Page 101 of Triumph at Pemberley

She shook her head. “Not for me. I sent them to Pemberley for their own protection. One of them made the ill-advised decision to return to Faerie, and he reported to me before he was captured by my lord.” She shuddered. “It was not pretty.”

“Are you one of those who opposes the High—” Before Frederica could finish, the fae moved with startling speed and placed cool, impossibly tapered fingers over her lips.

“Do not speak it! He may hear you!” The terror in her voice sounded genuine.

Then it struck Frederica. High Fae were always taller than mortals, but this one was her own height. She must be very young. Did that explain her lack of fae trickery? Or perhaps her desperation? “You are frightened of him?”

The words began to tumble out of her. “He murdered my mother. Stole our independence and forced us to serve him. Starved our people and treated them monstrously. Soon he will take me. Only the Prophesied One and the dragons living in the mortal world have a chance to stop him, but now he is close to conquering their land, too, through his servant. Your land. This – this can strengthen your dragons, and perhaps bring on the prophecy.” She looked beseechingly at Frederica.

No wonder the dragons cursed the Wicked King every time they mentioned him! His servant – that must be Napoleon. Goosebumps rose on Frederica’s arms. What would the Faerie King do when all of Europe and Britain answered to Napoleon? But this could still be a trick. “How do you come to have this Artifact, if it is so valuable?”

“My lord ordered my father to steal it from the last Gate-Opener. His Gates were making your dragons too powerful by connecting the Nests. My lord let my family keep it as a memento, since it had no value while it is out of mortal hands. But as soon as he learns there is another Gate-Opener, he will take it from me. Unless I give it to you first.”

“Why should Elizabeth be willing to trust you?”

“She can ask her lesser fae about Aster. They will tell her.”

Frederica frowned. “That is your name? Aster?”

Aster’s eyes widened. “That is your price, then? My true name?”

Frederica had not even considered asking that. Fae never gave out their true names, for that was the only thing that could give a mortal power over them. But if she wanted proof that this fae girl was serious, there could be no better. “Yes.”

The fae shivered. “It is fair, and I would rather be enslaved to you than to him.” She leaned forward and whispered in Frederica’s ear, “My true name is Everbright Gossamer-in-Moonlight.”

Frederica tried to hide her shock. And more than a bit of horror. Aster had put herself deeply in her power. “I will not misuse it,” she vowed. She did not intend to even think about that name again.

The fae stiffened. “My lord calls, and I must go. Here.” She removed a small cloth bag that hung from her waist and shoved it into Frederica’s hands. “My life depends on you, Frederica Fitzwilliam.” Then she ran back across the river and disappeared into the mist.

Flabbergasted, Frederica stared after her, then gazed down at the bag in her hand. The magic in it weighed heavy, but it did not seem to be active. That was good, at least.

She turned to Bethan, only to discover the girl had both hands pressed tightly over her eyes. Some foolish Welsh superstition, most likely. As if looking at the fae were the problem, rather than bargaining with them!

Still, triumph filled her. This had to be what she was sent to Wales for. She had done it!

Frederica’s jubilation lasted until they reached the bridge back into Gwynedd, the one that had been invisible when she first arrived. Now it was in plain sight.

But before she could ride over it, something stopped her in her tracks, or rather in her horse’s tracks. The mare tossed her head and twisted away, as if she had run into a wall.

The wards. It had to be the wards. Frederica dismounted and tried it on her own, but the barrier was still there. She could feel it tingling under her hands but could not penetrate it. Was it because she was carrying the Artifact?

Carefully she placed the bag on the ground and tried again. Still nothing. It was her, not the Artifact, that the wards disliked.

Blast! She had assumed the wards had been reset to admit her. Now she was stuck on this side and would have to ask for help to pass over them. She had not wanted Roderick to find out before she could tell him directly. He would not be pleased.

Oh, well. There was nothing to be done for it. She focused her mind and sent to Quickthorn, silently explaining her dilemma.

Annoyance came back through their bond. That was foolish of you. I can do nothing to help you. They do not trust me with the wards.

So much for keeping this adventure a secret! Would you ask Rowan if he can do anything?

I suppose I must.

Now there was nothing to do but wait.

Quickthorn’s crest rose in surprise. “She told you her true name? Are you certain? She might have just given you a name that was not hers.”

Her dragon had finally arrived, after the bronze dragon Blodeuwedd had appeared to allow Frederica entrance to the wards, along with a scolding. This adventure was not going to improve Frederica’s reputation in the Nest.