Page 96 of Triumph at Pemberley

When Darcy ripped it open, a black dragon scale fell out. He picked it up and began scanning the letter, his gut churning at the words.

Elizabeth must have seen something in his face, for she put her hand on his arm and asked, “What is it?”

He swallowed hard, trying to get the words out. He raised his eyes to Coquelicot. “Another Nest fallen to Napoleon. In Scotland.” He held out the scale. “Gentiane sent this for our Nest.”

Chapter 38

Jack might be mostly recovered, but he was still stuck in London, chafing at the bit. The French had broken their forces into multiple companies, each covering different ground, as they made their way forward. The War Office, damn them, had decided he would be more useful pinpointing the exact locations of the invaders instead of trapping them with mudslides or floods.

The only answer was to cut the head off the beast. If he could capture or kill Napoleon, the invasion would stop.

But he had to have a plan, and for that, he needed an expert. He went out to the small garden where his dragon was resting. Gentiane, what can I do that would stop the mad dragon?

The dragon snorted, black smoke curling from his nostrils. It cannot be done. No mortal prison can hold him.

Jack clenched his teeth. He would have to ask the question, even if his dragon took offense. How can I kill him, then?

Gentiane’s gold-ringed eyes narrowed. You cannot. The only way to destroy a dragon is to use the Final Weapon, and even that does not always work. Often several dragons must employ it at once.

What is the Final Weapon? Can I learn to use it?

The dragon’s chest rippled in amusement. It is a dragon power, and it kills the wielder as well.

Damn. What if I injure him? Cut off a limb or put out an eye?

It would slow him down, no more. We heal quickly.

There had to be something he could do! So even if I stop his soldiers, he and his dragons can keep attacking us? That would mean even more dragonfire attacks, the weapon no one could defend against. At least human attacks had left some survivors.

Gentiane sat back on his haunches, considering. It depends on the dragons. If he orders them to kill too often, they may use the Final Weapon on themselves. Then Napoleon would either have to expose his true nature or retreat.

It was a bitter pill to think their only hope was dragons taking their own lives. He paced back and forth. How could he explain to the King and Privy Council that they were better off letting the French soldiers rampage through England rather than killing them all and unleashing more dragonfire? They would never accept that. It would be tantamount to a surrender.

An end to everyone he loved. At best, it would mean sending Will, Georgiana, and all the rest into exile. All the dragons dead or enslaved.

There had to be another option. Is there any defense against dragonfire? Does being inside a stone building offer any protection?

Very little. There is always something that can burn. Being underground can help. A cave, especially. That is why we Nest in caves, in case of accidental bursts of dragonfire.

There were no caves in southeast England. The land was not right for them. Devil take it, how could the all-powerful King’s Bond be so useless against dragons?

He had to find another way. Perhaps if he simply slowed the French down, he could create enough attrition that Napoleon would decide Britain was not worth the trouble.

It was a weak hope, but better than nothing.

“I hope you have a good reason for calling me here,” Jack snapped at Lord Liverpool. Good Lord, when had he turned into the sort of person who snarled at the Prime Minister? But if the entire defense of England was going to be his personal burden, he had no time to be polite. He had finally been allowed to leave London to create an impassible swamp to divert the approaching French soldiers, and now he had to race back because a politician wanted to talk to him.

“I do.” Lord Liverpool was paler than usual, his hands gripping the edge of his desk. “Napoleon has asked for a meeting with you. By name. Jack Darcy, not Captain Jack. And he knows you have the King’s Bond.”

Jack leaned forward. “How? I never use that name.” None of the few people who knew would betray him.

“He has spies everywhere.”

“Well, I do not want to meet him, so there is an end to it.”

Lord Liverpool shook his head. “We have no choice. If you do not go, he says he will burn London to the ground with dragonfire.”

Jack caught his breath, furious. “He would not dare. Every civilized nation would turn against him for such a crime.”