Page 56 of The Dragoneers of Longbourn and Pemberley
“Your dragon is surely the reason that our hunting has been poor.” Nedine said. “The tulirepo and wolpertins must be in their burrows, scared by the mighty beast.”
Kesley stepped up behind Valeraine, putting a guiding hand on her elbow. “We will be leaving now, then, so your hunting can improve.”
“Of course you will be leaving,” Nedine tittered, maintaining a light tone.
“Farewell,” Pemberley said.
Valeraine remembered in her childhood exploring these hills with her sisters, roaming the countryside. Now, the invasion of Nedine Nethenabbi had come to crowd in the land of Longbourn and be the most unfriendly of neighbors.
If Lelantos passed, they would have to downsize, not being able to support as many tenant farmers. The fields would be bought by Netherfield, and the border between their lands would shift ever tighter.
Valeraine took a step forward, wanting to give Nedine a piece of her frustration and anger, but Kesley’s hand on her elbow tightened, holding her back. He had anticipated her, and saved her from further embarrassment.
Valeraine instead gave a small curtsy, made her goodbyes, and she and Kesley boarded Lelantos and flew back to their nest.
When she returned to the house, Valeraine penned a letter to Pemberley, asking to meet him in private. A response came that evening, agreeing to meet in two days, at dawn. She couldn’t wait to reveal all that she knew of his lies and treachery, and make him beg her for mercy and discretion. Let him feel the pinch of blackmail and coercion.
She would master Pemberley, and then she would save Longbourn.
Chapter thirty-nine
A grand derby!
REGISTRATION OPEN
at Pemberley nest
14th February
Ball to follow, by invitation only
Chapter forty
With the morning edition ofThe Dragoneer’s Journal, a derby with open registration was announced. Valeraine jumped at the chance to practice her flying in a true competition. She needed to handle Lelantos when he was nest-tetchy, surrounded by other dragons, if she would have any chance of success in the Royal derby.
There was one problem: it was being hosted by Pemberley.
Tomorrow, after she met with him, he wouldn’t be a problem anymore. But did she dare to push him so far as to race on his estate? Would he surrender to her superior blackmail material? Or would he not suffer the offense of her in his house — of her winning the race — and decide to doom them both? She didn’t know him well enough to say.
Pemberley was a liar. He used the guise of Lady Scaleheart to turn the tide of the dragon houses against his enemies. He was a rough rider, responsible for the death of at least one poor soul, and the injuries of many others (including some of her own).He was an underhanded snake, and it might be dangerous to assume he would be cowed. She did not truly know his mettle, or how far he would go to avenge his wounded pride.
Valeraine would register for the derby at Pemberley. She refused to back down, feeling her own pride stinging at the thought. She sent the registration letter off that very day, before she could take the coward’s route. Mr. Pemberley was squarely in her power, and tomorrow he would know it. She would prove it by out-racing him in his own home.
Valeraine was worried about how Lelantos would behave once he was nest-tetchy at Pemberley estate. She had only ridden him while nest-tetchy once, and it had been a mix of success and disaster. She had gotten injured, but they had also come in second. This was the true practice she needed, though. In the Royal derby, Lelantos would be far from home, and in a bigger crowd of dragons than ever. The challenge was coming to meet them, and they would rise to it.
Kesley left that day for the four day’s journey to Sidton house. He would be riding the mail coach — always an uncomfortable trip — and not returning for weeks. Every year, he spent the winter solstice with his family. Perhaps this year he would manage to convince one of his brothers to give him a ride back on a dragon. Then, at least, the travel wouldn’t be so onerous.
Valeraine was anxious for his return. Would the spark between them still burn? Would they fan it into something more?
Pemberley had set the meeting place as a gazebo on the edge of the Netherfield lands. Valeraine knew it well, a playful haunt of her childhood. The sisters had gone walking out to it, just a mile or so away from Longbourn house. It was built by the previous owner of Netherfield, maybe one hundred years ago, and now was overgrown with vines. It was sturdy enough, built out of white marble (now coated with green moss) in a classical style.There was a frieze set into the roofline, with muscled, naked men riding chariots and dragons. Valeraine wondered why it had been built. Had the owner believed in the ancient pantheons, and performed ablutions here? Had he prayed for fair races, or for plentiful crops?
When the Longbourn sisters had come, they had prayed to the goddess of maidens — particularly the adventurous ones. Valeraine had dreamed of triumphal adventure, of saving her house. Now, she was terribly pleased that she would deliver the final blow to Pemberley in this place of worship, her prayers answered.
Pemberley had probably picked it as their meeting place because he had come across it in their hunting parties. It was a private place where he would not have to stand in the snow.
That morning, Valeraine woke early, and walked to the gazebo. The mile to it seemed much shorter than it had when she was a girl. It had been a journey, now it was a stroll.
Pemberley was already there, waiting. The dawn light played with his black, heavy coat, and his warm darkness stood out starkly from the whiteness of the holy place and the snow on the ground. His head was resting against one of the graceful columns, his arm braced above him. He might be praying. Who would he be praying to? A trickster, for inspiration?
