“Life,” she said slowly. “Vitality. Like a forest in a summer rain.”
“Our skills are certainly different. I sense his mind shining. An awareness.” Yuánchi’s chest began to fill, and his scales seemed to roll in the lamp’s reflection. Emma took a step toward him. She was four or five feet away. I took a breath to say “Do not touch him,” then stayed quiet. I was not sure why I wanted to speak, or why I did not.
Yuánchi shuddered in his sleep. His claws snapped closed, grating across each other like crossed swords while muscles bulged in his calves. Impressive as draca teeth were, claws were the real weapons of flying draca, black scythes that struck from the sky. And their fire, of course.
Louder, I said, “Yuánchi.” He shuddered again. The coil of his tail rubbedthe side of the boathouse. Wood groaned, and dust fell from the rafters, thin streams in the lamplight.
This was strange. He should have heard us and woken before we reached the door. It was like he was trapped in a dream.
I closed my eyes, concentrating, and reached through the silver thread of our binding.Yuánchi. We are here with you. Emma and I.
There was a thunderous snort. He scrambled and rolled onto his belly, his two massive legs crouched like gnarled stumps, his wings tensing until they brushed the walls. His head lifted to face Emma, their noses two feet apart.
Emma’s lips were open as if caught mid-gasp. Yuánchi was still as stone. Only his eyes seemed to move, their facets shining ruby, citrine, and topaz as the lamp’s flame flickered.
He had not answered. I thought again,This is Emma.
Slowly, as if mesmerized, Emma raised her gloved hand. Yuánchi made a noise, high pitched and uncertain—he waswhining. Her hand moved an inch closer, and he exploded into motion, scrambling backward through the boathouse on his huge legs. With a surprisingly inconsequentialsnap, the gate flew off its mountings, and he surged out into the night.
“Yuánchi!” I cried. I grabbed the lantern and ran after him, then turned back to Emma, not wanting to abandon her in the dark. “Come!” She blinked as if dazed, then ran toward me.
The last few feet of the boathouse floor descended to ice, but each wall had a walkway over the water. I trod carefully along the foot-wide ledge, then clutched the wall while stepping to shore. Emma followed me.
“Where has he gone?” she said, sounding disappointed and quite unastonished.
“In the air.” I could sense him high above and hear his wings, the slow strokes like storm gusts. “There is some effect between you and him. On the ice, when you touched Darcy, I felt it through my binding.”
I thought,Yuánchi.
I am here. I see you. Both of you.
I spoke aloud so Emma could hear. “We wish to understand what disturbed you. Will you come down?”
In answer, the wing beats ceased. I sensed him descending in a wide arc. “Do not be alarmed when he lands. He can see us perfectly in the dark. But it will be windy.”
The first hint of his coming was a spreading void, darker even than the blacksky. Then the lantern caught sheets of ruby as his wings cupped a storm of wind, driving us to the side of the boathouse until his claws grasped the earth. No longer crouched, his head, neck, and chest were higher than our heads and barely lit by the lantern, darkening his color to the red of old coals.
“I should have woken you before we approached,” I said. “I am sorry.”
I dreamed of you.Yuánchi’s rumbled thought filled my mind.
Emma gasped, her hands flying to cover her mouth.
“Do you hear him?” I asked, and she nodded frantically into her gloves. “That is a discovery. He is able to speak to Darcy through my binding, but even Georgiana cannot…” I trailed off.
Yuánchi’s attention was fixed on Emma. He had dreamed ofher.
His voice resumed.I slept in the deep. The world aged, and I was alone. When the wyfe of healing rose, it was a sun rising. I felt you laugh, and love, and bind. I waited to be called. But you died!
The last thought was thick with hurt and accusation.
“Yuánchi, you are not making sense,” I said. “Emma is standing in front of you.”
I felt your death.
“I was in Highbury,” Emma said in a confused voice. Her tone firmed. “I have always been in Highbury. I am sorry I did not find you. I was caring for my papa.”
“He means Lady Anne Darcy,” I realized. “Yuánchi, you are remembering Darcy’s mother. She was at Pemberley, near where you slept. She was the wyfe of healing you felt die.”
