Page 126 of Triumph at Pemberley

Poor Sycamore! She had sensed him there, under the earth, as she tried to close the hole. Sycamore, her childhood friend and protector. She would never see him again, never lean her head against his towering chest. And for Granny, it would be much, much worse. Had any companion ever outlived their dragon?

Granny was walking back to her chair, tears pouring down her wrinkled cheeks. Elizabeth limped over to put her good arm around her great-grandmother.

Dragon song still rose around them, a paean to Sycamore, who had given his life to save them all.

“I am so sorry, Granny,” she whispered.

“I was expecting...something,” Granny said, her voice seeming to come from miles away. “Cerridwen told us months ago she could see no future with Sycamore in it. He knew he would die, and he chose when it would help the most.” Her thin shoulders shook in a sob. “But oh, I will miss him!”

Quickthorn was moving their way, her steps heavy, lacking her usual grace. When she reached their side, she said, “Sycamore's line is not ended. His eggs are growing in me. You will be able to share your memories of him with our hatchlings.”

Granny closed her eyes, her wrinkled face still crumpled into lines of pain. “You bring me comfort when I expected none could exist,” she said huskily.

Comfort, but it would not be the same as having her own bonded dragon, whom she loved so dearly and who had kept her alive so many years.

“Sycamore will be honored forever for destroying the mad dragon. He saved us. Because of his sacrifice, we will keep our freedom - all the dragons, all the Nests.” Quickthorn spoke each word as if it were an incantation or a prayer, and perhaps it was. “You should be proud of him, Companion Amelia.”

“Companion no longer,” Granny said sharply. “I am simple Granny Morgan now. “

“No,” Quickthorn said gently. “You will always be a dragon companion, and an honored one.”

Elizabeth rubbed her arm as she studied the clearing. Coquelicot had taken a few minutes away from grieving to do a partial healing on it. Only a shadow of pain remained, though Coquelicot had apologized for cutting her work short and promised to do more later. Her back still ached where the guard’s knife had struck her, but Elizabeth was satisfied. Her arm barely hurt and she could walk without limping.

It was calm now that the storm of activity had passed. Quickthorn was still with Granny, and Frederica had joined them. Jasper stood beside Georgiana and seemed to be talking to empty air, likely giving directions to his fae troops.

Finally she spotted Darcy, sitting on the ground in the shade of a tree, no doubt exhausted from the use of his land Talent. Mrs. Sanford had appeared and was tending to him. Lady Anne hovered over them.

A palpable air of relief hung over all of them, but there was no air of celebration or joy. Napoleon was dead, but the price had been too high, and they had come close to losing everything.

And Cerridwen had also lost a dear friend in Sycamore, her last connection to her birth Nest. Cerridwen was speaking urgently to Coquelicot, though, so Elizabeth merely sent a wordless question about her well-being.

A string of confusing, disturbed images came back. I cannot believe I fell under his spell.

You are safe from him now. We are all safe, Elizabeth sent with all the reassurance she could muster.

But then something must have shocked Cerridwen. A new wave of distress poured from her, the horror that came only after one of her terrifying visions.

What is it? Elizabeth asked worriedly. Is Napoleon not dead?

He is gone. But worse is coming... Cerridwen cut off the conversation abruptly.

Worse? What could be worse than Napoleon? Elizabeth shivered, but then she pushed the fear of the unknown away. It was likely something well in the future, and if Cerridwen needed her to do something now, she would have told her.

The rest would have to wait.

Finally Darcy found the wherewithal to struggle to his feet. Gingerly, but it seemed to work, perhaps because Mrs. Sanford was still feeding him energy from Pemberley through her hand in his. What a turn-around this was, that his half-sister should be rescuing him!

It was a good thing she was doing it. He could not feel the land at all. Hardly a surprise, after overusing his land Talent so badly, but strange and displeasing all the same.

“What happened?” he asked. “Is he… gone?”

“Napoleon is dead, buried under the rocks you created on top of him.”

They had succeeded! Even if by the skin of their teeth. Elation poured through him, which only made him more aware how weak his every muscle was. And Elizabeth was headed his way. Simply the sight of her gave him a boost of energy.

She held out her hand to him. “We did it, my love! I had my doubts there for a few minutes.” She paused to study him. “You look better than I feared, after using all that Talent.”

Mrs. Sanford released his other hand and said, “It was simple exhaustion. Coquelicot told me to come so I could feed his land Talent with my own.”