5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

E lizabeth's heart started to pound. As they entered the carriage for their return to Founder's Hall, her limbs were shaking and her skirt caught on one of the steps. She managed to wrench it out without tearing it. The fumbling proved providential, because it spared her waiting for Darcy to sit down first. After he had spoken so badly of Riquer, she could not bear to be close to him. Instead, she crumpled into the opposite seat, next to Lord Matlock. Darcy quirked his eyebrow at her, but she looked away, unable to talk to him — to anyone for that matter. She wrapped her hands in her skirts to hide their trembling.

She had betrayed her friend through the very act of defending him. What a fool she had been! She flinched inwardly as she recalled how awed she had been to be asked to contribute, how proud of the responsibility, while all the time, she was walking blindly into something she did not understand. No one had asked Riquer if he would be willing to return to France.

She had been appointed advisor to the prince, and she had fallen at the first hurdle. Why had she not understood the consequences of her words? Going over the whole conversation again in her head, she wondered how else she could have responded. She had been flattered that the Prince Regent had taken her opinion seriously, but in retrospect, she felt like her answer was a forgone conclusion. The prince must have known she would defend Riquer. In fact, he had implied as much at the beginning.

Darcy's eyes bore into her. She shifted uncomfortably, feeling trapped in the small space of the carriage. For the first time in a long time, she longed for Longbourn, where she could wander around at will and restore her good humor with a brisk walk. The ride was endless, the air in the carriage stifling. Fortunately, Lord Matlock must have noticed her turmoil, because he deftly introduced a conversation about Council matters. He and Darcy began an argument over one of the Council member's opinions, and she was left to her own devices.

When they left the carriage at Founder's Hall, Elizabeth hurried out, seeking the privacy of her bedchamber, afraid to encounter Riquer and look him in the eye after what she had done.

She heard footsteps behind her.

"Elizabeth?"

At first, she continued, too irked to talk to him. Then a light touch on her should brought her to a standstill. Darcy came around and stood in front of her, blocking her way. Her first instinct was to brush past him.

"You are upset with me," he remarked, reaching out to envelop her hand in his, "because I spoke against your friend to the prince. But—"

"I am upset, but not just with you." As she spoke, she realized it was true. "I was thinking about Riquer."

Darcy winced. She had phrased it badly.

"We have left him with no choice but to rejoin the Imperial Mages. I wish—" Again, she did not want this to come out wrong. "I wish I had not contradicted you. Not because I think you are right," she added hastily, "but because I should have asked for the chance to think about it more. Then I could have sounded out Riquer to see if this is what he wanted to do."

Darcy spread his hands out in a hopeless gesture. "How much choice do any of us have?" he said hoarsely.

"He took refuge here. He changed sides. What if the French brand him a traitor and kill him?"

She waited, seeking his reassurance. Perhaps she was not seeing the whole picture. Perhaps she was exaggerating the danger.

"If they believe he has revealed secrets to our side, they will undoubtedly execute him," said Darcy, his voice was dispassionate, his words a flat statement of fact.

Hearing the reality stated so starkly increased her sense of panic. She could not be as dispassionate as Darcy. Riquer was a close friend. They shared a common experience of being strangers amongst the Royal Mages, who were often more interested in bloodlines than Talent. Of course, she knew that their connection was forged out of necessity. The reality was that Riquer came from a prominent noble family, and in his native country, his situation was very different. Over there, Elizabeth would not be any more welcome in his world than she had been in this one. But for now, they were allies, and she took comfort in his clever observations and their joint amusement at the oddities of the Mage Council. Darcy did not understand her perspective. He had spent a large part of his childhood at the Academy. He took so many things for granted.

So Riquer could be executed. The possibility appalled her. All this could have been avoided if she had asked the Prince Regent for more information before answering his question.

"If it happened, I could never forgive myself. I would always blame myself."

Darcy shook his head. "You cannot think of it that way. Being part of the Royal Mages means exposing ourselves to danger. The risk is always there."

"Does it not bother you that he could be killed?"

"It does bother me, as it bothers me that I might be killed in battle," said Darcy. "We are all fighting the Imperial mages. We go where we are needed. It could happen to any of us. You cannot hold yourself responsible if he dies in the fight against Napoleon. This is war."

It was a sensible approach, and Elizabeth was grateful to Darcy for phrasing it this way. She felt calmer. Yet the moment she thought about Riquer's reaction, her anxiety returned, and she was filled with dread. Part of her resented Darcy for not caring.

Sensing her agitation, Darcy draped his arm around her and folded her into the warmth of his body. "I am not unfeeling, my love. I am simply pragmatic."

He tucked his finger under her chin and looked into her eyes. She squirmed, uncomfortable at having her vulnerability and the chaos of her emotions exposed for him to see.

"You think I do not understand, but I know only too well the consequences of guilt, Elizabeth. You have no idea how wracked by guilt I was when I lost my Twin. I tore myself apart thinking of all the things I could have done to save him. It almost destroyed me."

His eyes darkened as he spoke. He ran his finger along the length of her jaw, but Elizabeth could tell he had retreated into a grim place in the past.

She had forgotten about Cuthbert – or at least, she had pushed him to the back of her mind. She recalled now what Darcy was like when she had first met him, so withdrawn, so devastated by Cuthbert's death. He had come a long way since then.

"The situations are different," she said, "You could not have done anything to save Cuthbert. In my case, I could have done something different. I should have realized what the Prince was asking."

Darcy looked into Elizabeth's eyes, the upheaval there bringing back memories he had set aside. She was so quick and bold, it was hard to remember that she had not been bred to deal with intrigue and the palace and the war itself. It was all new to her. To the Prince Regent, Riquer was just a tool to be used, just as they all were. Elizabeth could be persuasive, but Darcy doubted either of them could have changed the prince's opinion if his mind was made up.

"But you did not, and that is why you cannot blame yourself. And I beg to differ when it comes to Cuthbert. After it was over, I kept imagining all the different ways I could have saved him. I could have found a way to distract him by wounding him, for example, to bring his attention out of his nightmares and to me. It is a technique a Tutor mentioned once. If I had remembered it at the time, the outcome would have been different. But I did not, and there was nothing I could do about it."

Elizabeth's eyes were pools of sympathy.

"My guilt could not bring him back. I could not change what happened. Yet I was sinking under the weight of responsibility. In the end, Bingley was somehow able to convince me that I was not the one who had killed him. Someone else had. An Imperial Mage."

Their eyes met. He wanted to remind her that Riquer was not innocent. That he had been involved in the latest attack on Founder's Hall, perhaps in all the attacks. Riquer could well have been there when Cuthbert died. Certainly, he was one of the five mages who had been at Founder's Hall that day when Elizabeth had fortunately foiled the attack. They had escaped to Netherfield because of him, and he had been their prisoner. It was asking too much of him to forgive this and think of Riquer as a friend.

Understanding the implications of his words, she sighed and stepped away. "Is it impossible for someone to redeem himself? He is working for us now."

Darcy was tired of the whole Riquer debacle. He wished the mage had never been caught. Then he chastised himself mentally. Of course it was good Riquer was caught. Darcy felt muddled and confused.

"I am weary, Elizabeth. Weary of fighting myself and a war that seems unending. I was younger than Redmond when Napoleon turned his eyes in our direction. The war is crushing me. Remembering Cuthbert, I wonder if I will ever have the chance to live a life of my own. His life ended so suddenly. Who knows whether mine will as well?"

Elizabeth's arms encircled him as she buried her face in his shoulder and squeezed tight. He breathed in her quiet strength and let her warmth seep into him, his throat clenching with a mix of grief and happiness at the good fortune that had found her for him. Flooded by a torrent of emotions, he held onto her to stop himself from being swept away.

They stood there for several moments as he slowly mastered himself. Instinctively sensing his mood, she released him and moved away to look at him.

"I am sorry, my love. Do you miss him?" Elizabeth's eyes were full of compassion.

"I do. Not as much as I used to. When I lost him, the pain was so overwhelming, it consumed me. He was my Twin, my childhood friend. He was the brother I never had. And yet—"

"And yet?" she prompted.

"And yet, if I had not lost him, I would not have met you."

It was a terrible truth. Why did everything have to be so complicated? He felt ashamed to speak the words out loud. It felt like a betrayal, especially since Elizabeth had taken his friend's place.

Elizabeth placed a hand on his cheek.

"You must tell me all about him, so we can honor his memory together."

There was a time and place for everything. "Another day, perhaps," he said, leaning into her hand. "When we have time to spare."

Elizabeth gave a sad smile. "Then it will never happen."

He closed his eyes and drew her closer. "It will happen. We just have to find a way."

They stood quietly for a few more minutes. He savored every precious second, knowing it would not last.

Too soon, the sound of boisterous apprentices tearing out of a classroom interrupted them. With a rueful smile, he let her go.

"Where are you going now?"

"I have a class with some of the youngest apprentices."

"I will accompany you, if you don't mind."

"Of course."

But there was no more peace to be had. From the expression on her face, she had gone back to thinking about their previous conversation.

"I do not see how our communication could work in any case," she remarked. "Even assuming Riquer is not killed or imprisoned, what if he is watched so closely he cannot use his mirror? What if his mirror is taken away? And what if, even in the best-case situation, my magic is not strong enough? We have never tested it over such a large distance. It is too much risk for too little chance of success."

Darcy hesitated, then said something that had been on his mind from the beginning. "And what if he is a double agent and tells them everything about us?"

Elizabeth drew a deep breath. At least she was not irked at him mentioning it. "I agree. It is yet another risk we must think about. Riquer may not betray us – and I do not believe he would for a moment – but they may—" she swallowed hard "—use unpleasant methods to extract the information."

Her resistance to even saying the word ‘torture' was yet another sign of Elizabeth's lack of exposure to war. Which was only to be expected. She was a gently bred young lady, raised in the countryside. Despite her participation in fighting, she was not yet immune to some of the harsher aspects of the war.

"Riquer is a powerful mage. He can take care of himself by setting up his mental defenses. It is something we are taught in the Academy." He hesitated. "With his permission, we could also ask if he is willing to submit to a spell that will prevent them from discovering anything about us."

His suggestion seemed to make Elizabeth even more grim. "We could. But would he? Has anyone even told him yet? The decision was made without asking his permission. He is entirely ignorant of the fact that we are about to hand him over to the enemy."

"As a seasoned spy, he understands how these things are done. And he knows what do to if captured."

She winced at the word, but that was effectively what Riquer was.

"I must speak to him about it. It is my fault that this came about."

Their conversation had not helped at all. Darcy did not know how else he could convince her.

"I am sorry that you were involved in such a painful decision, Elizabeth, but it was necessary. If it makes you feel better, the Prince Regent must have already planned to send Riquer to France. You merely confirmed what the prince wanted to hear. You cannot torture— torment yourself over it," he amended hastily.

She made a guttural sound at the near mention of the word she had avoided earlier. "I will certainly torment myself over it." She pulled herself up ramrod straight, resolution written on her face. "I will have to explain all this to Riquer."

Darcy pushed aside the treacherous thought that she cared about Riquer too much. "Would it help if I went with you?"

"Thank you, but no," she replied. "It is my responsibility, and I must deal with it alone."

"Very well. Send for me if you change your mind."

"I will."