Page 5 of Triumph at Pemberley

I think not, too. She lacks the attitude of a tyrant.

Darcy could not think of anyone less tyrant-like than his sister, who tended to cringe away from attention. Cerridwen said something odd earlier. I did not understand it. He showed her his memory of Cerridwen telling the High Fae to look at Jasper.

Can you not see it? Coquelicot seemed surprised. The glow he carries from having been healed by your sister? She has it, too.

Darcy swallowed hard. Another thing hidden from his mortal eyes. I cannot. What does it mean?

I do not know. I have no interest in Faerie and its inhabitants. I prefer this world.

Understood. If it did not involve healing mortals, Coquelicot would not waste time on acquiring knowledge. And now I must return to the May Day celebration. And pretend nothing had happened, except with Elizabeth. He would tell her the truth as soon as he could.

He made his way back on foot, stopping by a small field of wheat to pour the excess land magic he had collected earlier into the hungry ground. By the time he reached the green, the tenants were starting to disperse, so he went straight to Elizabeth’s side.

“Is all well?” she asked quietly.

Glancing around to make sure no one would overhear, he gave her a brief summary. “Georgiana was right when she told us not to fight the fae invaders. She managed it with words.”

Elizabeth took his hand. “I am glad of it. The villagers were all for grabbing their pitchforks and rushing to your defense, but I told them Cerridwen said you had matters under control.”

Darcy snorted. “I just stood there and created a distraction.”

“The land was glad you were there. I could feel that. It did not like being invaded.”

He let his attention sink into the earth. She was right; it was uneasy. Tomorrow he would walk the wards by the gatehouse and feed the land there. That should help.

Chapter 2

Darcy admired Elizabeth’s form in the sunshine with the lake gleaming behind her. “This may be rather dull for you,” he cautioned.

“Spending a beautiful morning with two of my favorite people and perhaps even learning some new magic?” she teased. “How terribly boring.”

The elderly lady sitting beside him said, “Enough of that. Now we will practice casting fire.” To everyone else she was Granny, but Darcy still sometimes insisted on calling her Lady Amelia, the title she had been born to. At first because it was the proper thing to do, but it had since become almost a game between them.

“I have been able to cast fire since I was a youth, Lady Amelia,” Darcy objected. “It is hardly a new power for me, unlike weather Talent.”

“We need to find out where your limits are. Your bond to the French dragon may have changed them. What is the largest fire you ever created with your Talent?”

That was easy. “I burned down half of Napoleon’s palace in Paris,” he said dryly. “By accident. I was only trying to set the canopy afire, but it spread from there.” Not one of his favorite memories, and Napoleon apparently still bore him a personal grudge over it.

“Not bad,” Granny allowed, “but if you want to use it as a weapon, we may need more, and not just for the French. You will need every skill you can get if you are to kill the Wicked King, as the prophecy says.”

Darcy was tired of this argument. “Impossible. These small Talents may be useful against the French, but I doubt anything I can do would harm the High King of Faerie. Prophecy or no, he can overpower me in every way, magically and physically.”

Granny’s wrinkled brow furrowed. “There must be some way, though I confess I cannot see it, either. My dragon says there have been many attempts to assassinate him, both by High Fae or iron-bearing mortals, but all have failed. All we can do is to prepare you as best we can.”

Elizabeth added, “It may be useful when we face Napoleon, too.”

Another hopeless task. Darcy had already been part of a failed attempt to kill Napoleon, thwarted only when the French emperor proved to be a shape-changing mad dragon. Now he had an army behind him and an invasion fleet ready to sail. England had little to defend itself.

Elizabeth must have sensed his dark mood, for she said lightly, “I wish I could do even a fraction of what you can! But no, my magical power is limited because it is all taken up by a Forbidden Talent I cannot even use.” A shadow passed across her face, quickly replaced by a wry smile. “Why, even Jenny can do more mage work than I, though she is not yet a year old!”

Granny patted her hand. “Or perhaps your Talent is funneled into your dragon’s ability to see the future, which is worth more than the rest of us. Your Cerridwen has already changed the course of the war.”

“What a lovely excuse for me!” Elizabeth teased. “At least I still have my land Talent. But pray go ahead, William. Perhaps I might learn something.”

Beloved Elizabeth! How easily she turned his melancholy away with a little teasing. How had he ever lived without her?

And in an odd way, it had been Napoleon who brought them together. Darcy would never have met Elizabeth, much less married her, had it not been for the urgency of defeating the French. And how little they had known then, thinking Napoleon was but an ordinary man and dragons were extinct in England!