Page 29 of Triumph at Pemberley

Richard nodded. “Always. For what it is worth, I have been staying mum about the whole matter of your purported wife, and so has Frederica.”

Jack had not even thought of that. They both knew Mrs. Hartung had been a stranger to him. “Quick thinking on your part. Thank you.” Creating this sort of story was trickier than it had seemed at first.

Chapter 12

Elizabeth stole a glance from her book to check on Cerridwen. Her dragon had arrived at Pemberley half an hour ago and curled up by the fireplace with barely a word. Her aura was gloomy, but she had ignored Elizabeth’s questions.

This was hardly the first time Cerridwen had sought out her company when her spirits were low, which was all too common. Nor surprising, given the darkness of her visions.

Perhaps distraction might help. “Listen to this. It is from Iorweth the Bold’s diary. ‘I fear my Talent will never follow the path of other mages. Perhaps it is because I came to magery so late, at an age when others had already learnt to spin power from the air. By the time I bonded my dear Taliesin and discovered my mage blood, I was already in the habit of drawing my power from the land. The surface, the soil that feeds all life, was my first source, but the true power lies deeper, in the bowels of the earth.’ Do you suppose that is why my mage skills are so weak, too?”

Cerridwen considered. “There are a surprising number of similarities between you and the last Gate-opener.”

Not least that they were both bonded to Seer dragons. “I like this theory. ‘Perhaps the foundations are the source of all power, and the air currents are merely a diluted version of it. What could be so strong as the might of the earth itself, which causes everything in our world to fall towards it, that we must struggle every morning to rise from our beds instead of collapsing to the ground? The mysterious earth, which creates lodestones which always turn to the North?’”

Cerridwen snorted. “Dragons have always known their power comes from the foundations.”

“Yet again, we humans are laboring in the dark!” she teased. But at least Cerridwen was talking. “Is something troubling you, dearest? Another vision?”

Smoke snaked from Cerridwen’s nostrils, and her aura turned dark with anger. “The mortals in India are demanding that the Nest turn over its treasures to them. There have been unpleasant threats involved. Apparently the dragons saw the Gate as an opportunity to send their riches to Rana Akshaya instead.”

Elizabeth’s heart sank. So that was why the Indian Nest had thrown their valuables through the Gate. “That is terrible!” Her fingers crept to her side where the Star of Travancore nestled in her stays.

“Rana Akshaya is livid. And more determined than ever to have a Gate to India. The dragon who came through says others wish to escape, if they receive word he survived the process.”

Now it would be impossible to convince Rana Akshaya to give up this dangerous Gate-building quest. How could Elizabeth refuse to try to save even a few dragons? “I hope they can,” she said slowly.

“Rana Akshaya has another plan, too, but she will not give us even a hint of it,” Cerridwen grumbled.

Elizabeth managed a smile. “Usually you are the first to know everything with your visions! Let poor Rana Akshaya have a secret for once, too.”

“Oh, very well.” Her scales rustled as she rearranged her body to toast the other side. “Does Iorweth say anything more about the Cuff of Ysmeina? I still want to go on that adventure with you.”

Elizabeth had half-forgotten her suggestion to go on a quest for the fabled Artifact. It had been more to lift Cerridwen’s spirits than out of any hope of finding it, but if it cheered her dragon, it would be worth it. “I have been too busy to plan it, but you are right. First we will need to speak to the Dark Peak Eldest to learn more.”

“Could we go tomorrow?”

Elizabeth embraced her dragon’s neck. “I see no reason why not.”

The elaborate sculptures and mosaics lining the walls of the Dark Peak Eldest’s chamber kept distracting Elizabeth. There had been too much at stake during her previous visits to enjoy the surroundings. But she should not ignore the Eldest.

“Ysmeina’s Cuff? Of course I have heard the stories,” the Eldest said. “What do you wish to know?”

“Its purpose, first of all,” Cerridwen said.

“The stories say it could block fae magic or be used to trap a fae, but no one knows for certain. The Wicked King made it for Ysmeina as a courting gift, so that she need not fear his power. What a pity she never used it on him!”

“Companion Roderick says the Dark Peak Nest knows where it is,” Elizabeth said carefully.

“The general location, yes. We tried to retrieve it many times,” said the Eldest. “No dragon can enter the wards around it, only mortals. We have sent many to search, but it is a desolate moorland, and the cuff is said to be hidden by illusion. They have been unable to locate it despite years of hunting. Many of us question whether it exists at all.”

Cerridwen stiffened and spoke in her Seer’s voice, with the odd echo. “The cuff lies in a silver chest which can only be opened by a woman, a mage of her bloodline whose love is true. It sits in a circular room made of old, worn stone, with narrow windows barred with iron. The window is high above the moor, looking down towards a river.”

A shiver went down Elizabeth’s arms. She was a mage of Ysmeina’s bloodline.

The Eldest shifted her considerable bulk back onto her hind legs. “Are you certain it is Ysmeina’s Cuff? The mortals we have sent say there are no buildings there, of stone or otherwise.”

“I cannot tell you what mortals have seen, but it is that direction.” Cerridwen pointed a foreleg.