Page 84 of Triumph at Pemberley

“I wonder what brings them here.” Again, that cautious phrasing. He must be trying to avoid her bindings.

Oh, how she wished she could tell him the truth! But her feelings did not matter, since that was impossible while she was under the binding. “Rana Akshaya has sent many invitations to dragons elsewhere to consider joining the Pemberley Nest. Cerridwen says they are expecting a Scottish visitor soon and another from the Alps. That will be a dangerous journey, though.”

“The little Nest is growing fast.”

“Rana Akshaya is ambitious, and she must know Quickthorn is unlikely to return. That leaves only Cerridwen, Coquelicot, and Juniper, unless she attracts new nestmates.”

“I wonder how the dragons from India knew to come here. She could not possibly have sent word there this quickly, and the journey takes many months.”

Poor William! How he hated being left in ignorance. She rose to her feet and held out her arms to embrace him. “Perhaps Coquelicot can tell you.”

He tipped her chin up for a long, lingering kiss. “Someday I hope we will be able to speak freely about anything we wish. I am tired of bindings and secrecy.”

So was she, even if it had been her idea at first not to tell him about the training. She hoped she would not regret it.

Chapter 33

“Huw ap Iolo just rode in with an urgent message from your father, sir!” The manservant raced into the family dinner with an informality that still shocked Frederica. Her mother would have dismissed him without a character, but it was apparently normal here.

Roderick shot to his feet, his napkin falling unheeded to the floor. “Forgive me, ladies. I must meet with him immediately.”

Frederica had no intention of being deserted, especially when it meant pretending not be bothered by the little cuts his stepmother made whenever Roderick was not present. It was like being back among the catty ladies of the ton, except she had to live with this one. “May I join you? I would like to hear the news.”

He hesitated for a fraction of a second. “If you wish.”

His stepmother, without asking permission, simply followed them into the Great Hall.

From the messenger’s exhausted, sweating face, this was not going to be good news. At least he was speaking English. Roderick must have asked him to for her sake. “Rhodri ap Llewelyn is ill, and he needs you to come as quickly as possible. We are fighting every day. Without his Bond, they are driving us back.”

Roderick paled.

Frederica’s chest tightened. This would put Roderick directly in harm’s way, fighting the French. What if he was killed or injured, like those poor men she had seen after Jack’s first battle? Even the King’s Bond could not stop a cannon ball or bullet in flight.

Life without him seemed unimaginable.

She stuffed that thought to the back of her head. If he was in danger, she was going to do what she could to keep him safe. She would go with him and bring her Talent to bear there, even if his King’s Bond dwarfed her efforts. Not even the nightmares she still had about her first battle were going to stop her.

There was something off about the messenger, though. Had he been overcome in battle, that his descriptions of the fighting were so vague? Listening to him reminded her of something, but what?

“Tell me again exactly what he said,” Roderick demanded.

The messenger said, “These were his words. ‘Fetch my son immediately. Tell him we cannot hold out without his help.’”

It tickled her truth-casting sense. It could not be a lie, or he would have been unable to say it, but something was wrong. As if he were not quite there with them.

That was it – his odd distance and vagueness was like dealing with Lady Anne before her bindings had been removed. As if she were only half-present.

But that made no sense. Why would a simple Welsh messenger be under a binding?

She tapped Roderick’s arm. “May I ask him something?” she whispered.

He nodded.

“Where was Rhodri ap Llewelyn when he spoke to you?”

The man hesitated. “In his bed.”

“Was he under a blanket?”