Page 124 of Dragons of the Great Wyves: Fire and Song
“The blight is everywhere,” Georgiana said.
Emma sighed at the splotched hills. “We had to run from crawlers bursting out of the Coles’ turnip patch. We must heal the song quickly. The amulet showed me the vision again. The great wyves were better prepared than we thought. One was unbound because a wyfe must bind Fènnù to heal the song.”
That left an uneasy silence. “Whomust do that?” I asked finally.
“A great wyfe,” Emma said. She adjusted the amulet and said firmly, “The artifacts are powerful. They will help.”
Mr. Darcy was knocking dried mud off his coattails with precise whacks. His hand stopped midair. “You found the flute?”
Her confidence faltered. “I thought you would bring it.”
A man’s voice hailed us, and Mr. Knightley emerged with Harriet from a patch of birch trees. We ran to meet them. A babble of greetings rose, then halted when Mr. Knightley and Emma embraced with astonishing intimacy.
Harriet was bent, her hands on her knees and winded from running, but she waved dismissively. “Do not be foolish. They aremarried.”
Even so, it was a bold display, but Mr. Darcy shook Mr. Knightley’s hand ferociously while Georgiana happily congratulated Emma. I muttered something as well. Having watched Mr. Knightley dote over Emma for months, I supposed it was inevitable.
Mr. Knightley brushed away our attention, his gaze on Yuánchi. Even the most inexpert eye could tell the scarlet dragon was desperately ill. “I had hoped you flew here to rescue us. Or rescue the ladies, at least.”
“I am done with flying,” Georgiana said decidedly.
“Yuánchi will not be flying us anywhere,” I said. He had not moved since his weak greeting for Emma. His breathing had slowed, but it was strained, not relaxed in healthy rest. How bad was he?
Mr. Darcy said bluntly, “The blight will consume England. We must heal the song. That is our sole rescue.” With a touch of his old, dry humor, he added, “I expect that requires the ladies.” Then his brow furrowed, and his gaze returned to hunting among the clouds.
“Is the enemy near?” Georgiana asked, and I realized we were exposed in a meadow with a very visible dragon.
Mr. Knightley answered. “The French are all through Surrey. The slavers are worse and closer, but Harriet and I met allies on our way. They will slow our pursuers.” To Mr. Darcy, he added, “The ‘widowed wyves’ are here, a ladies’ resistance. Your aunt, Lady Catherine, leads them with her wyvern.”
Mr. Darcy gave a mirthless laugh, more long-suffering than surprised.
Harriet took Emma’s arm. “Mr. Knightley told me about Augusta and Hartfield. I am so sorry.”
“She was brave,” Emma said. Her sad gaze traveled to the rest of us, and she explained, “Hartfield is lost. Burned.”
“This has been a cruel day,” I said, feeling Mamma’s loss and pity for beautiful, perfect Emma, her fortune lost, her home gone. Of course, she had somehow also managed to marry Mr. Knightley.
Harriet had her arm around Emma’s waist. She scowled. “I have not one ounce of sympathy for hideous Mr. Elton!”
Whoever that was, it made Mr. Knightley sweep Emma into his arms for a fresh embrace. When finally they let go, Emma dabbed her eyes and declared bravely, “Well, I am quite looking forward to a little loft in Chelsea. No more nonsense with cooks and maids and gardeners.”
I snuck a look at Georgiana, wondering if she was following this better than me. Loft?
“And I forgot to tell you,” Emma continued. “The third dragon is somewhere nearby, though I am not sure where.”
That launched eager conversation. By the end, Mr. Darcy was tromping in rapid circles. “It is no coincidence that we gathered here,” he declared. “Queen Mary chose to send the amulet here. We can bind the dragon of song!”
“Do we not need the flute for that?” Emma asked.
“We are missing more than the flute,” I said. “Where is thedragon? There is no lake. No big river like the Thames.”
“We have only ponds,” Emma admitted. “But I see the glow everywhere.” Her eyes roamed the stone ruins and the meadow’s ruffled heath. “The Abbey. The hills. It is the glow of the wyfe of song in the vision.” To Georgiana, she said, “It is the glow that connects you and Mary. You must sense it. Or do you hear it as music?”
Georgiana did not answer. She had not spoken since Emma announced the third dragon.
Mr. Darcy, back to searching the sky, said, “When I spoke with Elizabeth, she…” He stopped and spun to Georgiana. “We must be prepared when she arrives. We need the third dragon. Georgiana, reach out—”
“I am consideringhow,” Georgiana snapped at her brother. “I do not sense what Emma described. And Lizzy is already bound, so how is this supposed to work? Are you saying Emma will bind Fènnù? Or shall we draw straws?”
