Chapter 5 #2
She sighed. “I was able to reduce his pain a little, but this is beyond me. If we all pool our healing abilities, we might be able to close the external wound, but the lung would still be pierced. It could buy him a little time, but it would make no difference in the end.”
It felt like the knife was in his own chest now. “What about the dragons?” he asked Elizabeth. “Could Cerridwen heal him?”
She shook her head. “I already asked. All three of them are too young to do healings, though she says it is possible Quickthorn might be able to give him some energy, since Jasper is Frederica's brother and shares her blood. Rana Akshaya, who has the ability, is off at the Nest, but her servants say she will not do it because of the price.”
“What price?” Darcy asked. “I will pay anything.”
Frederica turned her head to look at them. “Apparently healings are harmful to the dragons. They must use some of their life force to do it, which means shortening their own lives. So they will only do it under extraordinary circumstances.”
Roderick, who had a completely improper hand resting on Frederica’s shoulder, added, “Rowan, on Lady Frederica’s behalf, has already left for the Nest to see if anyone there is willing to undertake it.
She asked for no boon when she became a companion, so she is owed something.
He seemed to think it was unlikely to work, but agreed to try. ”
It made no sense. Coquelicot, the French dragon who had healed Darcy's wounds, had seemed perfectly happy to do it. If it had cost her anything, it was not apparent. Were dragons in France so different? With his healing under a binding that he could not break, he could not even ask about it.
It did not matter; Coquelicot was as far out of reach as the moon. And Jasper was dying.
Georgiana burst into the room, her face stricken. She was followed by half a dozen of her lesser fae. He could see that many, at least; who knew how many more might be invisible. She threw herself down beside Jasper's bed. “They just told me.” Her voice quavered. “Is it true?”
Jasper coughed, a horrid bubbling noise. “'Fraid so. Sorry. A good way to go, though.”
“No!” Georgiana burst into uncontrollable sobs, burying her face in Jasper's shoulder.
Darcy turned back to Mrs. Sanford. God, but he hated to ask this.
“If we try our healing, might it give him enough time that we could send for his family in Matlock? If they rushed, they might be here by late tomorrow.” If they were even there.
Lord Matlock was usually in London, but his eldest son, Jasper's brother, was often at the estate.
“Roderick is a very powerful mage, if that makes a difference.”
The midwife bit her lip. “It is worth a try, but I make no guarantees.”
“Understood.”
Jasper groaned. “Ow, Georgie, that burns!” And then his body convulsed.
Darcy raced to his side, though there was nothing he could do. Jasper's limbs thrashed once, twice, three times. He leaned forward, pressing his hands to Jasper's leg to stop it - only to be thrown backwards by a powerful force.
He barely kept his balance. What had that been? Was Jasper's latent mage blood showing itself somehow at his last moments?
It must have affected Frederica, too. She had dropped her brother's hand and been knocked away. Now she was staring down at her palm as if it had somehow betrayed her.
Jasper lay still. Was he gone? But no, his chest was still rising and falling, if anything more evenly now. And the blue tinge was gone from his lips.
What in God's name had happened?
Georgiana raised her head and stared at Jasper in disbelief. Whatever force had repelled Darcy from Jasper's body did not seem to have affected her.
Mrs. Sanford, her face ashen, reached out gingerly to pinch the sheet between her fingertips, careful not to touch Jasper. She folded it back - and Jasper's chest was revealed.
The wound had vanished, his skin as smooth as if nothing had happened.
The midwife raised stricken eyes to Darcy. “What happened?”
His mouth was dry, but somehow he said, “It must have been Frederica. She and Georgiana were the only ones touching him, and Georgiana has no Talent.”
Frederica shook her head. “Not me. I did nothing, and I can barely heal the smallest cut.” Her voice wavered.
Then, one after another, the lesser fae fell to their knees. Not just their knees - several put their foreheads to the floor, and more than one of them were trembling.
Darcy swallowed hard. Was this some strange fae magic, then? But Georgiana's body was mortal, or so the dragons had said.
Jasper's eyes fluttered open with a look of surprise. He raised his hand to his shoulder, where a scarlet blister had risen. No, not a blister, but a mark shaped like a teardrop. Right where Georgiana's head had lain.
Georgiana's eyes were wide, and she seemed to notice her lesser fae for the first time. “Mistletoe, what are you doing?”
The closest fae raised her head, but did not move from the ground. “Great lady...” she said in a trembling, creaky voice. She appeared to be gathering her courage. “It seems there is power in your tears.”
And something about that terrified the little fae.
Darcy tended to agree with that terror. That power knocking him backwards had come from Georgiana's tears? His little sister, the changeling whom he had protected for years, who now looked lost and alone?
He tried to catch Elizabeth's eye, in case she might miraculously have some explanation, but she had that odd unfocused look that said she was speaking to Cerridwen.
It was Frederica, of course, who broke the terrible silent tension in the room. She rushed forward and half-threw herself on her brother, pounding his shoulder - the one without the mark - with her fist. “If you ever scare me like that again, I will kill you myself! Do you hear me?”
“Stop that, Freddie!” he exclaimed, his face flushed. “Why are all of you staring at me? And where the devil is my shirt?”