Page 112 of Triumph at Pemberley

“Vividly.” The Nest had good reasons at the time, but it had been terrifying. “You are right, though. You were never a good match for them.”

“I like the Pemberley Nest much better, no matter how odd it may be. And crowded. That reminds me – two more dragons from Italy and Norway wish to visit us in addition to the Scottish ones already on their way. Could a few dragons stay at Pemberley until we make more room? In the ballroom or the dovecote?”

“Certainly. We can likely find an empty barn, too.” She ought to check with Darcy first, but this new idea seemed to be cheering Cerridwen up. “Unless we must all flee, of course.” A heavy reminder of the truth.

Cerridwen’s head bumped Elizabeth’s shoulder, nearly making her lose her balance. “You will open the Gate, and it will be the end of Napoleon. We will do it, and no one will have to leave.” Determination flowed through her.

“You are right, dearest. We will stop him.” If they could, which was a very large question. “I wonder what Rana Akshaya will think of this.”

“I already told her, via sending. She says they are idiots, and the Pemberley Nest will be famous when the Dark Peak Nest is long forgotten.”

“I am certain of it!” Elizabeth said stoutly. All they had to do was to survive Napoleon. And for that she had to find a way to pull him through a Gate.

Chapter 43

Days passed slowly in Jack’s prison cell. At least he assumed they did, since the light through the barred window had turned to dark several times. Or maybe more. It was hard to remember, or even to think. His mind felt swaddled in cotton, and not in a pleasant way.

They were not treating him badly, insisting he was an honored guest, even while guards stood outside his door. He had comfortable furnishings and a thick carpet. Fabric hangings all over the walls, practically touching each other. It was uncomfortably hot, in this unseasonable heat wave, but they kept his window open, which helped. The food was well-prepared and plentiful, and served with wine. Sometimes they offered him brandy or port, too, and asked if there was anything else they could bring him.

But no one could bring him clarity of mind. He struggled to recall why he was imprisoned. The guards said they were in England, but he could not feel the land.

He could not reach Gentiane, either. Was his dragon dead, or had he been a figment of Jack’s imagination? The dragon’s absence in his mind felt like losing a hand. One night a tiny black bird had managed to fly between the window bars and landed on his shoulder, and he tried asking it about Gentiane. Unless he had dreamed that.

That night, when he was already half asleep in bed, the bird came back and landed on his chest. Jack blinked slowly at it, but did not chase it away. It was nice to have the company.

The bird waddled up to this pillow and poked his sharp beak next to Jack’s ear. Then he spoke in an odd, squeaky voice. “It is Gentiane. I have a potion you must drink.”

How could his huge dragon be this bird smaller than his fist? But at least he was alive! “A potion? Why?” he whispered, lest his guards hear him.

“They are drugging you with calendula to block your Talent. This will counteract it.”

His sluggish mind turned this idea over. It might explain some things. “Where is it?”

The bird moved and dropped something in his hand.

It was a small vial. Jack sat up to uncork it and downed the bitter contents.

The bird flew back to his shoulder. “I will return later, when it has had a chance to work. I cannot hold a shape this small for long.”

Jack nodded slowly. It would be good to have his link with Gentiane back.

The bird flew out, and Jack could do nothing but wait and hope. But it was the first time he had hoped for anything since his capture.

Can you hear me now? Gentiane’s voice spoke inside Jack’s head, weaker than usual but still present.

Relief washed over him. Yes.

Gladness poured down the link. Good. I will bring you more of that each night. Can you feel the earth now?

Jack probed downwards with the King’s Bond, but found nothing. No.

There is iron on the floor, underneath the rug. It is blocking your Talent. You must search the room now, while you still have your abilities, and find a spot where there is less iron and you can reach the land. Perhaps next to the walls, or even through the walls.

It sounded like a great deal of work when it would be easier to lie in bed. My thinking is still not clear. It was a struggle to put that many words together.

They are dosing you with laudanum to keep you placid. You can still do this. I will hold our link open to keep you awake. Gentiane’s determination was strong.

I will try.