Page 10 of Triumph at Pemberley

His face turned to the sky and he threw his arms in the air, suddenly rigid. Light shot out from his hands, half-blinding Frederica. Then she was flying backwards, airborne, and landed on the ground with a painful thump.

It knocked the wind out of her. All she could do was to stare up at the sky and try to remember how to breathe. At least her vision was clearing now.

Roderick appeared above her, his face was ashen. “Quickly. He needs your help. He knows you.” He reached out to help her up.

There was an odd shock as their hands touched. Frederica scrambled to her feet, ignoring her sore bottom. “What should I do?”

“Talk to him, connect with him, make him remember who he is.” Roderick raised his voice. “Jack! Jack Darcy! You grew up at Pemberley, where the manor house sits above a lake that reflects the sky. You were in the army, and now you are a dragon companion to Gentiane, Jack. Remember!”

She tried to follow suit, shocked by Jack’s vacant look and unnaturally outstretched arms. “Jack, it’s me. Little Freddie, who used to follow you and Will around and annoy you to let me play your games. Remember when you climbed that old wych elm and insisted on going far out on the branches, even when we begged you to stop? You fell all the way down and banged your head, and I screamed and screamed until help came. Mrs. Reynolds said you were a very foolish boy and would have no shortbread all week, and that was the only part of the whole adventure that upset you!”

Something flickered in his eyes then, so she plunged on. “Yes, Mrs. Reynolds, the housekeeper. She always had a soft spot for you, slipping you sweets whenever no one was looking.” She tried to imitate the older woman’s voice. ‘Even boys who make mischief must eat!’ That’s what she would say. She was the only adult you ever listened to. And Molly! Remember that old spaniel? She would follow you everywhere, and you adored her, even though she slobbered all over everyone. You snuck her into your bedroom every night and thought you were getting away with something, but everyone knew and simply looked the other way.”

He was starting to look puzzled, which was an improvement over nothing.

“What about the time you, Will, and Richard went swimming in the stream, and Jasper and I stole your clothes and hid them? We laughed and laughed when you had to walk back to the house half-naked, and of course Will said it was all his fault and took the beating for it, because that was what Will always did. How many beatings did he take for you over the years?”

“Too…” Jack whispered. “Too many.” His hands slowly drifted down to his sides, as if they had grown suddenly heavy.

Roderick murmured in her ear. “Keep going. Gentiane says he can do nothing about a land bond, but he is trying to speak to Jack, too.”

So she kept babbling, bringing up every childhood memory she had of Jack. Not that there were many, since she had stopped spending summers at Pemberley when her Talent emerged. When Jack was finally alert enough to argue with her about one of her stories, she turned to Roderick. “What now?”

Roderick had his inscrutable look on. “Jack, we need to get you moving. Start with one step. It will be harder than you think.”

“I know how to walk,” Jack grumbled, and then he suddenly paled. Had he tried and failed?

“That was when your body was contained. Now it stretches out for hundreds of miles. Look down and find your right foot. Wiggle your toes. When you have that, slowly pick the foot up, just an inch or two. No need to worry; this is normal. The same thing happened to me.”

Had Roderick truly been frozen in place like this once? It was hard to imagine. But Jack would not thank her for watching him being helpless, so she turned away and walked to a nearby bench.

Chapter 4

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Roderick stepped up into the carriage in front of Windsor Castle and sat across from Frederica. He would never get used to this, having polite tea with melltigedig King George himself. Why had they had to go straight there after awakening Jack’s bond? How had Frederica managed to seem so completely at home and relaxed despite everything?

Roderick had rarely been so exhausted. Holding Jack’s spirit in place as the land claimed him had been a far harder task than he had expected.

Perhaps Frederica was simply disguising her discomfort.

He asked, “What did you think of it?”

“The awakening?” Frederica scowled. “To be honest, it was a bit frightening to experience such dense magic. I hate being scared.”

What could he say? The King’s Bond was a terrifying power. “I misjudged how strongly the Bond would take him.” And he did not like it – nor the completely unexpected effect on Frederica.

The one she seemed completely unaware of.

“How so?” she asked.

Definitely oblivious. Which left him with an unfortunate dilemma. Should he tell her?

“His Bond should have been weak, like the last rulers who held it. It is more than that.” Just as powerful as his own. He had been bred to it for generations and trained since he was old enough to talk, not to mention being a skilled mage. Jack had none of those advantages.

“Who had the last true English bond? The Stuarts always claimed to, but there was never any evidence.”

He was glad of the distraction. “Queen Elizabeth. Most likely James I’s earlier bond to Scotland broke the chain of succession.”

“Jack has Plantagenet and Tudor blood, without other Bonds interfering,” Frederica said thoughtfully. “Could it be because of the land? A reaction to being without a mortal Bond for centuries now?”