Page 113 of Triumph at Pemberley

Gentiane had told Jack he needed to be alert tonight. He went to bed at the usual time to avoid suspicion, even though he was wide awake. And thirsty. At Gentiane’s suggestion, he had poured all the wine they gave him out the window or behind the bed. For the first time since his arrival, his mind was almost clear.

Clear, and furious. How dare they drug him into submission? He could almost understand the choice to block his powers, but not taking away his ability to think. He wanted to tear down the walls imprisoning him and destroy Napoleon. This time he would show no restraint.

Once he could reach the earth. Gentiane’s potion had made him able to use his Talent again, but he had not found anywhere in his cell where he could feel more than a trace of his Bond.

He rolled onto his side and closed his eyes, but his thoughts would not stop. When would Gentiane come? He had told Jack in a sending to be ready, but not what his plan was. How could the dragon do anything more than what he already had? There was no way out of this cell.

Hours passed, or at least it felt that way, his belly churning with hunger and his mouth dry with thirst. Finally he felt Gentiane’s approach. At last! What should I do?

Wait. I must get in position.

Whatever that meant. Jack waited.

Was that scratching outside? What was Gentiane doing?

Come to the window now. Do you see the fingers coming through the bars? Grab them and hold on.

Jack threw off the covers and hurried across the small room. Good Lord, there truly was someone sticking their hand between the bars! How could they be up so high? The window was above his head, though, so he could not see who it was. He took the fingers in both his hands, barely registering that they were small enough to belong to a woman or youth.

Now reach for the bond through us. I am standing on the earth, and she is connected to me. Reach now, quickly! They could spot us any time.

Could it work that way? He sent a tendril of Talent out into the fingers, and then into Gentiane’s familiar presence. Down, down, down to the earth. To the land that was his.

The King’s Bond flooded back into him in a rush of power. Not at full strength, but it was enough. Oh, yes, it was enough.

He pushed at the stone wall with his Bond. It gave way slightly. This would work. I am going to knock out the wall, he told Gentiane. Will you be able to get clear?

It takes more than a few falling rocks to break my scales, Gentiane scoffed. And I will keep her safe.

Jack needed no more. Putting his shoulder and hip against the wall just beside the window, he pulled power through his hand and leaned into it with all his strength, visualizing an opening, a new door in the wall. A door to let him reach the land that needed him.

The Bond flowed through him into the walls, and slowly they began to crack.

The stones crumbled away, leaving him tottering on a ledge three stories above the ground, clinging to those fingers for dear life until he caught his balance. The open air was a balm to his lungs.

But what was wrong with his eyes? I cannot see anything, only blackness. Not the starlit black of night, but an impenetrable curtain.

I am hiding us.

The fingers tugged away from him. Then they reappeared in front of the opening, just a disembodied hand and wrist reaching out, and joined by a second.

Jack would try anything, so he gripped the hands.

“Jump to me. About three feet.” The instructions were whispered in a lightly accented woman’s voice.

Gentiane would not have tried this if it was too dangerous. And if it got him out of this room, he would jump off a cliff. He braced himself and leaped into the void.

The hands yanked on him, and he stumbled to a landing on an uneven surface. Then the hands were replaced with arms embracing him. Hard. And a soft body pressed against his.

“Hold on to me tightly.” Mrs. Hartung’s voice sounded in his ear. “I am tied on, but you are not.”

He obeyed, for what else could he do? A voice in his head shouted that this was improper, but it was also so completely, totally right to put his arms around her. “Where are we?” he whispered.

“On Gentiane’s head. Shh.”

Yes. Now he could feel his dragon’s immense magical Talent through the soles of his boots. Gentiane began to move. It felt like they were sinking, but with no clues from his eyes, he could not be sure.

Now. Hold tight. Do not let him fall. And with a spring of Gentiane’s powerful hindquarters, they were airborne.