Page 35 of Triumph at Pemberley

One by one the men off to his right vanished. Of course; they were moving behind the illusion. The illusion which was still astonishingly real in its appearance. And which might contain his Elizabeth.

The lynx stopped abruptly, his face pointed in towards the illusion. Here. But it stops me.

Darcy stepped to stand beside him, his hand reaching out until it touched rough stone. He moved closer so he could use both hands – and the left one found empty air. He searched using only touch, finally discovering what seemed to be a doorway, but there was no door. His hand went through it without any difficulty, even if Fire Eyes could not proceed. Another ward, perhaps?

“I am going in,” he told Jasper. “If I am not out in an hour, take the men back to the dragons.”

Jasper bumped up against his elbow. “Remember, your only task is to get Elizabeth out, no matter what. If you are not out in a quarter hour, I am coming after you.”

“No,” said Darcy. “There is no point in allowing both of us to be trapped.” They had planned this already. There was no time to be wasted arguing, not when Elizabeth could be only a few feet away.

He stepped through the invisible doorway– and only too late noticed the slight resistance in the air. He could only hope it had not affected him in some way.

The room before him was dark and achingly uninhabited. Elizabeth had to be somewhere, though. He spotted a stairway and followed it up to another stone room. This one was not empty. And neither were his arms, as Elizabeth threw herself into them.

He crushed her to him, almost weak with relief. She was here, and apparently safe!

She pulled his head down and whispered in his ear, “Be careful what you say. There is a fae here.”

A fae? He looked from side to side without letting go. Invisible, of course. But then his eyes came back to Elizabeth, as if she were a magnet. Her dress was rumpled, as if she had been sleeping in it, and the bodice gaped open at the top to reveal her shift. Her hair was in a rough plait, and she smelled of peat smoke. But she was still his dearest, loveliest Elizabeth.

And he needed to get her out of this place.

“Come,” he whispered urgently. “I have men waiting outside to escort us back to Pemberley.”

She blinked at him, and then her eyes grew misty. “I cannot. The door will not let me through. But if you can go, you should. This place is a trap for you, and the High King has made me the bait.”

“A trap – set by the High King?” Suddenly it made sense. He had failed to break into Pemberley, so he had drawn Darcy outside the wards.

“I beg of you – see if you can leave this room,” she said, drawing him toward the stairs.

More to placate her than out of any doubts, he tried to step through – and something stopped him in his tracks. Something that felt solid. “What is this?” he asked.

“A ward. The enchantments Ysmeina set meant he could not prevent us from finding this place, but the High King must have set a counter-ward to inform him if any mortal came here.” Her voice shook. “He appeared here and questioned me. He kept me here to draw you in, and now he has succeeded.”

Darcy frowned. “Did he say why he wanted me?” Not that it was a surprise, after all they had learned about the prophecy.

She rubbed her arms. “No, though he mentioned your bloodline. And then he left me here.”

“Did he harm you?” Darcy scanned his eyes over her, unable to bear the thought she might be injured.

“Not apart from abandoning me here with nothing but the clothes on my back! But fortunately my fae friend here traded with me for food and necessities.” Her eyes seemed to focus on his waistcoat.

Devil take it! “I brought plenty of food, but it is outside with the men. It was thoughtless of me.” Now it was completely out of reach.

With forced cheer, Elizabeth said, “A pity, but I have some barley bread and small beer. It rather reminds me of being in France and eating with the common folk there. And I still have two buttons left to trade.”

Buttons? Was that why she had been studying his waistcoat? He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “I have a pocketful of silver and trinkets Granny thought might be useful for dealing with fae.”

Her eyes widened. “Granny helped you?”

His cheeks warmed. “Yes, though not without some disagreement.”

“Did she disapprove of you coming here?”

He paused. What had the old lady been angry about? Then it came to him. “It was nothing. She wanted me to wait longer before I came after you.” That had been impossible, of course. He reached out a finger to trace the line of Elizabeth’s cheekbone, as if he could make the dark circles under her eyes disappear and bring the sparkle back to them. Once again she was suffering because of him.

“We will make do, I suppose,” she said tiredly, as if this reminder of their situation had sapped the last of her energy. “Come, we might as well sit. Who knows how long it will be before the High King comes.”