part0012

“Enough!” She stomped and ran for the cellar door. It flung open with a grouchy creak. The dark, narrow steps warranted caution, but she was long past any kind of restraint. Only the hand of Providence stayed her from breaking her neck on the way down.

Scrapes and slithers, deep down and far away into the dragon tunnels, taunted her. Cold, damp air enveloped her in teasing silence as dangling cobwebs tickled her face. But the musty, dusty smell of dragon was unmistakable. A dragon in the cellars had been trying to influence her response to Collins.

Coward. Longbourn was a big, scaly coward.

April landed on her shoulder. “Will you go after him?”

“Not through the tunnels. Longbourn might not object to slithering in the dirt, but I do. I will see him in the woods.” She gathered up her skirts and traipsed back up the uneven stairs.

Where was the family? Voices came from the morning room, so best head in the opposite direction.

Once clear of the house, she sprinted towards the woods. Hidden in the cover of the trees, she paused in the dappled sunlight, panting hard. At least the air was not so cold that it hurt to gulp it down. She needed breath to speak, a great deal of it for all the things that she had to say!

April launched from her shoulder and zipped around the stand of small trees. “I do not know. I do not know.”

“What do you not know?”

“The voice. I did not recognize it.” If she kept buzzing about like that, she would whip herself into a senseless frenzy.

“Of course, you did not. It was a persuasive whisper. We have not heard it from him before because it is unethical for him to speak so to us.”

“Still, I am not certain.” April landed on a narrow branch, just above Elizabeth’s head, panting.

“Who else could it be? There was a dragon in the cellar. You do not imagine for a moment that Longbourn would tolerate a strange dragon in his territory, much less in our house! He barely tolerates the minor dragons of his Keep.”

“No, no, he would not. But the voice, it did not sound at all like him.”

“I know you are afraid of him now. Perhaps you should not be here. Return to the house. I will handle this.” She folded her arms over her chest and scanned the woods for signs of the wyvern.

“No, I will not leave you. I would see how he defends himself for such behavior.” She huddled close to Elizabeth’s neck.

She pulled her shawl over April and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Longbourn! Where are you? Longbourn! I would speak to you immediately.” She stomped.

A black bird cawed in the distance.

“Stop this right now. You cannot avoid me. If you do not come out, I will come to you. Decide where we will converse, for it will happen one way or another. Longbourn, come out!” She grabbed a large branch and slammed it against the nearest tree trunk in a deep resounding tattoo.

A thunderous thump answered.

At least he was listening.

The ground trembled beneath her feet. Trees shook and limbs rattled, raining dry leaves upon them. Longbourn crashed through a curtain of saplings. “So, is it done?”

She batted leaves from her face. “Is it done? Is it done? That is all you have to say after your shameless behavior?”

He pulled back and blinked, squeezing his eyes shut tight several times.

If he tried to play dumb, she might just swat his nose. “It was not enough that you provoked Papa into ordering Collins to propose to me. You had to try to manipulate me, too.”

“What are you talking about?”

She clenched her fists until they shook. “Do not insult me by pretending not to know. I may be a woman, but that hardly makes me a fool. I would thank you not to treat me as one.”

“I will treat you that way when you are acting like one. I have no idea what you are talking about.” He lashed his tail across the ground, clearing a wide swath.

“You were eavesdropping in the cellar whilst Collins offered the most ridiculous proposal I have ever heard.”

“How would you know it was ridiculous? You have never heard a proposal. You have not had an offer of marriage before.”

“That is hardly the point here.”

“How can you fault a proposal as ridiculous if you have nothing else to compare it to?” He sat back lightly on his haunches.

“Do not play that game with me! The material issue is that you were listening in on a conversation to which you were not invited.”

“There was a dragon in the cellar, one that ran away from me when I went down to see.” She tucked her elbows under her shawl and balanced her hands on her hips. She would never be as big as the wyvern, but whatever size she could muster to her advantage would be helpful.

“And you assume that was me? It sounds like a trick of that sneaky tatzelwurm who now lives with you.” He cocked his head, the very picture of innocence.

“There is no way Rumblkins could have made those noises. They came from a major dragon.”

“But you admit he might have tried?”

“Hardly! He detests Collins and would not have tried to persuade me to marry him. He would sooner see you eat Collins.”

“It was agreed you would marry him. Why would you need to be persuaded?”

“Why indeed?” She threw her arms in the air, very near his face. “I am at a loss, but I expect you will have a rather good explanation for the dragon voice from the cellar, trying to persuade me to marry Collins.”

“I did no such thing.” He slapped the ground with his tail.

Now he was trying to intimidate, the bully.

“You would entertain another major dragon in your territory and permit it to meddle in the affairs of your Keepers?”

“It was not me.” He stomped hard enough to shake the trees.

“Stop lying to me.” Now he had done it—provoked her to shout. Few could boast that accomplishment. “Why would you violate our relationship that way? A Dragon does not try to persuade his Keeper. It is not a done thing.”

“Just like you did not scoop me up like a bit of prey, rendering me unconscious, breathing venom in my face.”

“I would not have hurt you. The venom was an accident. You made me so angry.” At least he had the grace to sound remorseful.

“No, you lost control. That is no fault of mine. You may not have liked what I said, but you violated my trust. And your stunt today did nothing to earn it back.”

They stared eye to eye until he turned away, grumbling.

“You promised to marry Collins.”

“No, I did not. I said I would see. And perhaps you do not believe it, but I have been diligently working to adjust to the idea of a husband I can hardly tolerate and who certainly does not respect me. I have been trying to learn how to manage him and see that I might have some sort of a decent life with him.”

“Then that is good, and it is all settled.” He sat back, mouth widening in an eerie wyvern smile.

“Hardly. I did so in good faith that we would all be working toward an amenable future. But you have stooped to trying to manipulate me to get your way, not even treating me like a Keeper, just some inconvenient warm-blood. I will not have it. I cannot live without respect, and you have shown me no more than Mr. Collins does.”

“You are not being fair. I told you I did nothing, and I meant it.”

“Declaring it so does not make it so. I came here hoping that you might own to what you did and we could come to some resolution, but I see that was a pointless hope. If you will not be honest with me, there is nothing more I can do.”

“What does that mean?” The smile disappeared, replaced by deep, worried lines.

“I will not live like this.” She wrapped her shawl tight around her and stormed away.

Arrogant, maddening, cold-blooded—

“What if he was telling the truth?” April whispered in her ear.

“Give me one reason to believe he might be, just one tiny bit of evidence to hold on to, and I will consider it. I promise you, I will.” It would be so much easier if she could.

“It is such a serious offense, and he has never shown any sign of violating the Accords before. Do you really think that he would do such a thing to you?”

“I would not have thought so until today … until I heard it myself.” She clutched her forehead.

April cuddled against her cheek. “What will you do now?”

“Return to the house and have a very long talk with Papa. He certainly cannot condone such behavior.”

She slipped in the back door. Rumblkins met her several steps inside.

“We have been so worried since you ran off into the woods.” He rubbed his long body around her ankles.

“Do you know anything about a dragon in the cellar this morning?” She crouched to fondle his silky ear tufts.

“There is often a dragon in the cellar. I saw no cause to worry.”

“You see, April.” She pressed her temples. “This is intolerable.”

“What is?” Rumblkins reared up and reached his paws up as high as he could.

She scooped him up and rested him on her unoccupied shoulder. “Nothing for you to worry about. Keep Mrs. Hill happy. That is all you need concern yourself with.”

He rubbed his face against hers, purring.

“But now I must talk with Papa.” She set him down, straightened her skirts, and slipped out of the kitchen.

Halfway down the hall to Papa’s study, the voices became clear.

No! She needed to talk to him now, before the fury subsided and she surrendered to the temptation to excuse Longbourn’s transgressions.

Mr. Collins’ voice filtered through the closed door, almost as clearly as if he was standing with her. “I cannot say that she refused, more that she did not give me an answer of any kind. It is entirely likely that my eloquent offer of marriage left her quite speechless. Indeed, I am apt to believe this the case as she fled my presence, color high and unable to speak. I trust it was the natural outflowing of her bashful modesty and genuine delicacy of character.”

She had been speechless as it were. How shocked he would be to learn the cause.

“But depend upon it, Mr. Collins,” Mama’s shrill voice pierced the air like a hat pin, “that Lizzy shall be brought to reason. I will speak to her about it myself directly. She is a very headstrong foolish girl, and does not know her own interest; but I will make her know it.”

“Pardon me for interrupting you, Madam, but if she is really headstrong and foolish, I know not whether she would altogether be a very desirable wife to a man in my situation who naturally looks for happiness in the marriage state. If therefore she actually means to reject my suit, perhaps it were better not to force her into accepting me because if she is liable to such defects of temper, she could not contribute much to my felicity.”

Naturally, his felicity was his only concern. Was it a surprise, though? He had never once asked after her desires or preferences. Selfish buffoon. What a disaster he would be as master of a dragon estate.

“Oh, Mr. Collins!” Mama shrieked, her hands probably waving to and fro. “Lizzy is only headstrong in a very few matters. In everything else she is as good natured a girl as ever lived. Mr. Bennet shall very soon settle it with her, I am sure. Will you not, sir? You must make Lizzy marry Mr. Collins, for she vows she will not have him, and if you do not make haste, he will change his mind and not have her.”

“Calm yourself, Mrs. Bennet. You have invented things which have not yet occurred. As I understand, Lizzy has not actually refused Mr. Collins, nor has he threatened not to have her.” Several loud thumps must have been Papa rapping on his desk with his knuckles. It hurt his hands so that he only did that when entirely provoked.

“No indeed, sir, she did not. She only said that she could not yet offer an answer and that she needed time to think.”

“You see there, Mrs. Bennet. She has not refused, so we are hardly in a position of forcing her to accept.”

“But what is there to think about in such a matter? With such a desirable offer before her, what has a young woman to think about?” Mama’s voice rose and fell as though she was pacing across the room. “Truly, this must be your fault for insisting that she begin thinking in the first place. That is not the province of a woman, you know. We are made for sensibility and men for sense. You should not have taught her otherwise.”

“Enough! You are doing our daughter no favor in the eyes of her suitor.” Papa slapped the desk.

Elizabeth winced. No doubt he would be paying for his rash acts tonight.

“She is a very good girl. You must believe that, Mr. Collins. She will be an excellent manager who will run your household very well. Have no doubts on that point.”

“I am sure, with a little persuasion, she will easily be made to understand her own mind.”

There, he had said it. Papa had said it—all but admitting he and Longbourn had colluded together. Neither trusted her enough to uphold her duties. They would stoop to the most disgusting, unethical means they could to control her.

Her stomach lurched; bitter acid burned the back of her tongue.

It was one thing to consider a life spent managing Mr. Collins by legitimate, honest means, but to face a life being played like a marionette on a stage—

No! That was beyond the pale.

She gathered her skirts and pelted upstairs to her room.

The plain oak door was solid and strong behind her, bearing her up as her knees trembled.

Remember to breathe … deep breaths. One cannot think if one does not breathe.

“I heard what he said! I heard it! This is very, very bad! What are you going to do?” April peeked out from the folds of her shawl. “What are we going to do?”

“I am leaving. I cannot stay when they will take such means against me. If even the dragon of my Keep does not respect me, then what have I?”

“Lizzy?” Mary slipped into her room, quietly shutting the door behind her. “I heard Mama shrieking downstairs. What happened? I thought that you were going to accept Mr. Collins.”

“I was, until Longbourn decided he needed to try and persuade me to do so.” She brushed past Mary on the way to the closet.

She grabbed a large carpet bag, the one she used when she and Papa traveled together. How long had it been—

No time to reminisce now. Later. There would always be later.

“Mary, in my drawer, I need body linen, a night dress, a dressing gown, and handkerchiefs.”

“What are you talking about? Where are you going?”

“I cannot stay whilst they would lower themselves to unscrupulous means to manage me.” She grabbed several day dresses from the closet and roughly folded them into the bag.

“Are you sure that is what happened?” Mary handed her a pile of folded linens.

“I am certain.” She shoved the linens in alongside the dresses.

Mary sighed, her eyes pleading. “I cannot believe they would have so little faith in you that they would—”

“I thought the same, but I know what I heard. Hand me my commonplace book. All three volumes are in the drawer there.”

“Three? I have only seen one and have only begun to comprehend that.” Mary wrestled the sticky drawer open and rummaged through it.

“The others are very early, hardly so useful. But when we are reunited, I will let you peruse them all you wish.”

Shoes, she needed shoes, from the closet.

“Where will you go?” Mary handed the books over.

“I cannot tell you.” She slid the shoes down to the bottom of the bag.

“You do not know where you are going? That does not sound at all like you.”

“I know it very well, but you cannot.”

“You do not trust me?”

Elizabeth paused and caught Mary’s gaze. “I do not want to be a blot on your conscience. No doubt someone will ask you if you know where I have gone. I would not have you lie for me.”

“I do not like it. Someone should know where you are going.”

“You could look our father in the eye and deny him an answer, or worse, lie to him?”

Mary’s head dropped, and she dragged her foot on the carpet. “I suppose not.”

“Then let me have my secret and keep you from feeling guilty.” She returned to packing—stockings, gloves, shawl and spencer.

Papa often gave her little notice when they were to travel. How odd to be grateful for the experience of panicked packing now.

“Will you wait just a moment? I have something for you.” Mary headed toward the door.

“All right, but hurry, I must leave as soon as I have finished packing.”

She unwound her shawl and tucked it into the bag. Her hairbrush, some hairpins, her reticule—what else did she still need?

“Here.” Mary handed her a small purse. “I have saved some pocket money. I know you have your own, but I will feel much better knowing you have a little more.”

“I know you too well to refuse. Thank you. Take care of Rumblkins … and Longbourn for me. But beware of his tricks. I do not want you—”

She grasped Elizabeth’s arm. “I understand. It will be difficult without you. Write to me and let me know you are safe, please?”

“Not under my own name, for Mama is too apt to read our post. I will write to you under the name of Heather Rose. Heather may persuade Mama that it is the name of an old friend of yours. Now pray go and tell me if I may make my escape unnoticed.”

Mary hugged her briefly and slipped out, returning a moment later. “The way is clear, but you must be quick.”

Elizabeth tied on her bonnet, flung her green cloak over her shoulders, and grabbed her bag. With April on her shoulder, she picked her way downstairs and out of the side door, where there were fewer windows to reveal her escape.

After nearly half a mile, Elizabeth finally slowed her pace, struggling to catch her breath. She sounded like Mr. Collins. Heavens, what a horrible thought that she had anything in common with him.

Think on such things later. There were more important things to consider. The sun was already past its zenith. How was she to get to London and would the Gardiners take her in when she got there? Surely, they would. They had promised such, had they not?

London was only twenty miles, she could walk.

What was she thinking? Maybe as a very last resort, but a woman alone on the road, even with a dragon—it was a very bad idea. Not to mention it would be dark before she could get there.

Stop and breathe, take a moment to think clearly. Their lives might depend on it.

First to London—all her hopes hinged on that.

The Phillipses would be no help, so the public coach was the best alternative. If she was able to take the next coach, she could still arrive during daylight and make her way to Gracechurch Street.

But the public coach? She swallowed hard. She had never ridden a public coach by herself. Usually they had traveled in Papa’s carriage. The few times she had been in a public conveyance, she had been safely tucked between Papa and Uncle Gardiner, both wearing such severe expressions that none of the other passengers dared speak to any of them.

A respectable young lady did not ride in a public coach alone. That was a given. Her reputation would be damaged, no doubt—someone she knew would certainly see her, and they would talk. She might lose her respectability.

But respectable dragons did not persuade their Keepers. And respectable fathers did not encourage dragons to do so. The entire situation was well past respectable. She would do what she had to and manage the consequences as they came.

The buildings of Meryton rose up before her, painting the street in stripes of shadows and light. Her object, the coaching station, was on the corner, two streets beyond the house that Colonel Forster had taken.

Pray let her not encounter the officers. They would ask questions, and worse, bear stories back to her sisters. They could keep secrets no better than Lydia.

No sign of red coats on the street. Excellent.

Now, if only she could slip through the crowd and into the coaching station—

She stopped, a chill sliding down her spine. Turning, she forced her face into a smile. “Mr. Wickham, good day.”

“Good day indeed. I am surprised to see you without your usual company.” He bowed, eyes fixed on her shoulder, as if waiting for April to peek out.

“It is still early for them to be out and about, I think. We were up late last night celebrating some very good news.”

“Concerning your eldest sister and Mr. Bingley? Miss Lydia might have mentioned her expectations at some point. I probably should not confess this to you, but there was something of a bet going on amongst the officers about when the happy event would finally take place.”

Elizabeth licked her lips. What exactly did one say to such a thing? She forced a smile.

“You might be pleased to know that I am the winner, having the greatest faith in the constancy of Mr. Bingley’s affections.” He winked.

“I am sure Jane will be gratified to know.” She looked over his shoulder. At least no other officers seemed to be in his company.

He chuckled deeply. “I see that I have scandalized you, Miss Bennet. Pray forgive me. I did not mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“Consider it forgotten, sir, but pray excuse me, I must be about my business.” She tried to step around him.

With a backward step, he cut her off. “Forgive my forwardness, but what business might you have at a coaching station, alone no less.” His smile faded slightly and warm concern filled his eyes.

“Pray do not think me rude, but I have no intention of speaking of it.” If only she could get past him—

“You have rather a large bag with you. It looks very much like you are intending a trip.”

April peeked out of the hood and squawked a warning at him. Several people nearby turned to look at them.

No! More attention was the last thing they needed!

A grin which could only be called self-satisfied broke out over his face. “And you have your friend with you. I am sure you would never leave her behind if you were to sojourn from Longbourn.”

“Please sir, I beg you to importune me no further.” She gathered her skirts and tried to sidle past him, but he cut her off again.

“Forgive me, but I am concerned. It is most unusual for a woman in your circumstances to travel alone. I fear there may be something wrong.”

April growled in her ear.

“The matter is nothing of your concern.”

“It might be of interest to you to know that today I am charged with the task of accompanying Mrs. Forster’s maid to London where she is to stay with her sick sister. I am then charged with bringing her replacement back to Meryton.” He cocked his head and raised an eyebrow.

“Indeed, sir. And why might that be of interest to me?”

“There is room, quite comfortably, for another in the colonel’s carriage. If your business carries you to London, you might find the company far more agreeable if you travel with us.”

The maid was to stay in London. If she left Mr. Wickham’s company before the new maid joined him, there would be none but him to bring tales back to Longbourn. And the maid’s presence would preserve her reputation—

“I do not like the idea of traveling with him,” April muttered.

“I just heard the coaching agent say there was no room available on the next two coaches.” He cocked his head and shrugged.

“How do you know he is telling the truth?” April hissed.

Elizabeth bit her lips. If she could not travel today—no, that was unthinkable. She squeezed her eyes shut.

April might not like it, but neither would she like the conditions of a public coach, if they could even get on one. And staying the night in a public house was even worse.

“It seems you have discerned my intentions, sir. I will accept your offer, but I must impose two conditions. First, ask me no further questions of my motives. And second, say nothing of this to any of my family.”

“You ask me to keep secrets for you?”

“You are right, that is too much to ask. Pray excuse me.” She curtsied and dodged around him.

He blocked her way just before she made it to the coaching station door. “I never said it was too much. What you hear is the concern of a friend. I can only surmise something very serious has happened that would have you striving to keep secrets from your dear family.”

She turned her face away.

“For the privilege of your company, I shall ask nothing more of you, and I shall say nothing of our sojourn together.” He bowed from his shoulders.

April flapped her wings and chittered. “I do not like this.”

Elizabeth pressed April against her neck and cuddled her cheek against the downy feather-scales. “Thank you for your understanding, sir.”

“It is my privilege to help friends in distress.” He offered to take her bag.

He was right. She was in distress, and his offer was generous. What did he stand to gain from it? She blinked furiously to clear her blurring vision. Perhaps she had been too quick to judge, too suspicious. It seemed Providence had just provided her the very friend she needed.

Mr. Wickham escorted her to the Forsters’ house, where she paid a quarter of an hour’s call on Mrs. Forster. Then, he ushered her out the back door, and into the mews where the carriage, sans driver, awaited. He handed her into the carriage where her bag waited.

It was newer and better maintained than Papa’s. Probably refitted in honor of Colonel Forster’s wedding. The leather still smelt fresh and new, and the side glass was sparkling clean.

Had Mr. Wickham arranged for this, for there to be no witnesses to her escape? He was a far better friend to her than Mr. Collins would ever be, able to see the distress of another soul and work to do something to alleviate it. What more noble act could there be?

The coach rocked as the driver and a groomsman climbed aboard. Mr. Wickham opened the door and handed a very groggy maid inside. She staggered to her seat, half sitting on Elizabeth in the process.

“Pray forgive me, Miss. I get powerful sick in a coach. The mistress give me a cordial to help.” She giggled and settled into her seat. “I feel so very boosey and flustered.”

Mr. Wickham pulled the door closed behind them and took the opposite seat. “A strong cordial will have that effect. There is no need for concern. You might sleep as we drive, and you will feel better when we arrive in London.”

The girl yawned and leaned into the corner. She was softly snoring before they reached the outskirts of Meryton.

“She truly cannot tolerate the carriage. It is best for her to sleep.” Mr. Wickham leaned back and extended his legs just a little. “I have done as I promised, perhaps even a wee bit more. So now I shall make a demand upon you. But just a small one.” He winked.

April chittered and hunkered down in her grumpiest posture.

“And what might that be?” She drew her cloak over her chest.

“It is three hours to London. I require some form of entertainment. I know you to be a fine storyteller. Why do you not tell me your favorite myth? But not one from a far-off place. I wish to hear a myth from our own fair countryside.” He leaned into the squabs.

“I fear that Hertfordshire does not have many stories attached to it.”

“Then what of your favorite myth of England? Surely there is something for you to choose from in all our shores.”

From the way he looked at April, surely he was asking for a children’s teaching story about dragons. But April would not tolerate it. Best not to agitate her.

Still though, there were stories that would reveal nothing about the current state of dragons or the Blue Order.

“That seems little enough to ask. Have you ever heard of the Laidly Wyrm of Spindleston Heugh?”

April harrumphed, but did not twitter.

A broad smile lit his face. “No, I have not, but I look forward to doing so now.” He balanced one boot atop the other and laid his hands over his stomach. “In the words of your young cousins, tell me a story Miss Elizabeth.”

She smoothed her skirt over her lap. “Many centuries ago, in the Kingdom of Northumbria, Northumberland to us now, of course, the good king who lived in Bamburgh Castle lost his beloved wife to a most tragic death. She left behind a son, the prince Childe Wynd, and a daughter, the princess Margaret. Childe Wynd was his father’s son with a brave heart and a lust for adventure that drove him to rove farther and farther from home. After his mother’s death, his jaunts became journeys, and the journeys became longer and longer until he crossed the sea. In fear that he would never see his son again, the king took comfort from his daughter. Margaret was the image of her mother, beautiful as no other woman in Northumbria and gentle and kind in equal measure to her beauty.”

“A handsome prince, a beautiful princess, what more does a fairy story need?” Mr. Wickham laced his hands behind his head.

“Dragons. It seems he wants to hear of nothing but us,” April grumbled against her neck.

Elizabeth stroked her ruffled feather-scales smooth. “An evil witch sir. What kind of story would there be without one?”

“So then tell me of this witch.”

“After years without his wife, the castle was cold and lonely. The king’s judgement had been addled by too much wine. He called for eligible women to be brought to him. A beautiful, but cruel witch caught his eye and soon became his wife. Poor Margaret, she was bereft. She saw the witch for what she was, but the King would not believe her.”

Mr. Wickham leaned forward a bit. “Ah, now it gets interesting.”

“The witch cast an enchantment over the poor princess.” Elizabeth hunched over her lap and worried her hands together, cackling. “I weird ye to be a Laidly wyrm, and borrowed shall ye never be, until Childe Wynd, the King's own son come to the Heugh and thrice kiss thee. Until the world comes to an end, borrowed shall ye never be.”

“The princess became a dragon?”

“Indeed, she did. By the witch’s spell, she became a dragon.”

“The myth calls it a wyrm, but I think she must still have been beautiful even in the transformation. I have always considered she became an amphithere. They are more beautiful than even the loveliest of wyrms.”

Though some might not agree, there were some very pretty wyrms.

“What do they look like?”

“Of course, they are not real, but according to myth, they are not wyrms, but enormous snakes the color of jade. Unlike any serpent, they have great feathered wings with iridescent feathers, glistening in every color. Their wings are powerful enough for flight, although they only do so under great duress. Sometimes they are depicted with powerful forepaws as well. Their heads are as serpents, but well-feathered, and their eyes, penetrating.”

“Frightful or fascinating?”

“Both, I would imagine. It is said they are creatures of exquisite beauty.”

“So then, very fitting for a lovely princess.”

“Indeed. I suppose in that, the witch was merciful.”

“Or limited, perhaps. Her magic might not have been strong enough to completely transform a woman of such beauty.” His brows flashed up in a playful challenge.

“That is indeed an interesting interpretation. It sounds as though you have spent a great deal of time considering fairy tales, sir.”

“It had been a pleasant pastime during some of my darker times. I have always found the character of a prince removed from his inheritance rather compelling.”

April shook her head and snorted. Perhaps she was right. That was a bit much.

Wickham chuckled. Perhaps he did not take himself as seriously as April did. “Do not leave me hanging. You must finish your story.”

“Of course. The Laidly Wyrm, the princess, left the castle, banished to be a rogue dragon, without a territory to call her own, facing death if she trespassed on the territory of another, scourge to man and beast alike, stealing what she could to preserve life and limb. Finally, she made her way to Spindleston Heugh on the Great Whin Sill escarpment. It is said that the stone can still be found in the parish of Easington, Northumberland, you know.”

“I should very much like to see it one day.”

Should she mention that Papa had taken her there? April probably would not approve. She probably should not have mentioned the specific location at all.

Botheration, it was very easy to talk to him.

“Perhaps I would see the Laidly wyrm there, if I were very lucky.” He stroked his chin.

“Even if you were very lucky, the Laidly Wyrm is naught but myth. Even if she were not, you would not find her, for you have not heard the end of her tale.”

“Do not keep me in suspense! I do not see how you ever get children to sleep if you constantly keep a story so provoking.”

“You are being quite vexing yourself. Naughty children who interrupt do not get to hear the end of a story.”

“Pray tell me what must I do to hear the end?” He smiled beatifically.

April huffed and tucked her head under her wing.

“I suppose that will do. In any case, after ten years the prince returned. He expected to find his sister a grown woman, maybe even married. But instead, her chambers were empty. The witch told him that his sister had been eaten by the Laidly Wyrm and if he wanted to honor her memory, he would avenge her life and bring back the head and wings of the wyrm.”

“A witch in all ways. Horrid woman.”

“Indeed, she was. She even gave the prince a dragon-slayer sword with which to perform the deed.”

April shuddered. She had seen the one Mr. Darcy had carried and it had given her nightmares for weeks.

“Childe Wynd rode off in search of the Laidly Wyrm. When he reached the spindlestone, he called out a challenge to the dragon.”

“In the fashion of heroes everywhere, I imagine.”

“They are rather a predictable lot, are they not? Princess Margaret recognized his voice and hurried down to see him. Naturally he did not recognize her in dragon form and brandished the sword at her.”

“I should say he is lucky that he did not get himself immediately crisped by fiery breath.”

“Do not be silly. Amphitheres do not breathe fire. That is a myth about the myth.” She laughed.

There, April should be satisfied that he really did not know anything about real dragons. No feathered dragons breathed fire.

“Princess Margaret restrained her draconic instincts. She extended her wings and hovered over Childe Wynd’s head, singing a song they had made up as children, one none other knew. Her voice was sweet and high, unmistakable in his ears. ‘Margaret?’ he cried. She told him of the witch’s curse and that her only hope was her brother’s kiss.”

“And of course, he simply believed her, never once considering it was the sort of trap a clever dragon might set for him? That is the way soldiers get killed.” He snorted and folded his arms over his chest.

“I suppose you are correct, taking an unfamiliar dragon at its word is not a mark of wisdom, but this is a fairy story, remember. And in this story, he embraces his sister and kisses her. She transforms before his eyes, all scales and feathers falling away. Once again, she is a young woman, even more beautiful for her trials than she had been before.”

“And they lived happily ever after.” He rolled his eyes.

What had he been hoping for, bloodshed and tragedy?

“Not yet. They gathered the scales for Margaret’s dowry, enough to fill several chests, and secreted them in a crag under the spindlestone. The feathers they bundled up to bring to the witch, proof the dragon was no more.”

He sat up a little straighter.

“Treasure would catch his attention,” April muttered.

“The feathers carried a powerful enchantment upon them, the same form that the witch had cast upon the princess. When Childe Wynd presented them to the witch, she picked one up and was immediately transformed herself.”

“Into a dragon?”

“No, each feather contained only a small measure of transformation magic, not enough to accomplish so large a transformation. She was instead turned into a toad.”

Wickham snorted. “A toad? A fitting fate, I should say.”

“Childe Wynd became king and assisted his sister in marrying a very suitable man. And now we have come to our happy ending.”

Mr. Wickham yawned. “Just in time I suppose. Your voice is quite soothing.”

“I am glad you approve, sir.”

“You should not have told him that tale.” April nipped her ear.

Nothing would please her. Poor little dear was so unsettled. Who could blame her?

But still, the story was quite safe. Who could believe that a princess might be turned into a dragon? That was impossible. The truth—that Margaret was turned out by a cruel stepmother and taken in to live among a mated pair of amphitheres who were incubating a clutch—was hardly like the story at all.

Still, the real Lady Margaret had always been her heroine. She had been instrumental in bringing an understanding of the amphitheres to the Blue Order. For her efforts, she had been made the first woman to hold office in the Order.