“Then it gazed deeper still. I felt as though my flesh and bones were burned away, leaving only my flickering spirit struggling naked in the grass.
“ ‘Ah!’ the Dragon said. ‘Ah, perhaps you are not for snacking after all! You will help me, won’t you? Yes, of course you will. Get up, little prince, and journey into the world. I send you to your exile. But we’ll meet again, and perhaps you’ll find your throne after all?’ ”
Lionheart’s face went quite pale as he recounted the Dragon’s words, and his voice altered as he spoke them. Then he was silent a long moment before he could continue. “I have thought over those words a thousand times, trying to discern some significance, perhaps some clue to the monster’s destruction. But they seem as meaningless to me now as they did then in the middle of all that heat and poison.” He shook his head slowly, as though trying to free himself of the memory. “That is all I can recall of that day. When I awoke, it was a week later. My friend had brought me to her father’s estate in Middlecrescent. She nursed me back from a horrible fever that nearly took my life. The dragon smoke was thick across the country by then.
“That very day, though I was still weak, I packed a bag, saddled a horse, and journeyed north. In Shippening I found work as a minstrel.” He smiled, rather sadly Una thought, as he mentioned this. “I’ve always had a knack for clowning, and I picked up a good many tricks as I journeyed across the countryside. I’ve worked as a jester in the various courts and manors of Beauclair, Milden, and beyond. But it was when I traveled east that I learned a thing or two about dragons.”
“How to kill them, you mean?” Una asked.
“Perhaps.” He looked down at his feet. “But I begin to fear I will never have the opportunity to try.”
“Why not?”
“Southlands is far, far from Parumvir, especially on foot. Jesters’ pay is not what it might be either, especially for one newly discharged.”
“Why go on with this charade, then?” Una pulled her hand free and paced away from him. “Tell my father who you are,” she said. “Tell him! He will surely supply you with equipment, with soldiers even. He will help you battle this monster, I’m sure of it. My father is a generous man. I know he – ”
“M’lady,” he interrupted, “what proof have I for my story? Any small token I possessed marking my heritage I was obliged to sell long ago to buy bread. My only proof is my face, which my family, should they yet live, will recognize. If ever I am able to return to them, I shall kill that monster and reclaim my kingdom. I shall come into my own as heir of Southlands at last. Only then would I have the right to speak to your father. As it is, I cannot ask him for aid, and I cannot ask him for – ”
He stopped and gazed at her, his eyes intent and sad.
“Oh,” she whispered.
“So you see, it is best that I leave,” he said. “I cannot bear to watch these suitors of yours, knowing I have no right to . . . to pursue you myself.”
“Oh,” she whispered again.
“Una.” He approached her, standing near enough that she felt the warmth of his breath on her forehead, though he did not touch her. “Una, I must leave. I have a dragon to fight, a kingdom to reclaim. I may not be able to return.”
“I understand.”
“Will you trust me?” he asked.
She didn’t speak for a long moment. To her irritation, two memories flashed through her mind.
The first was of Gervais standing in the garden, singing a song he had chosen just for her.
The second was of Prince Aethelbald putting out a restraining hand. “I love you, Una. I will return to ask for your hand.”
“Una?” The jester-prince spoke softly. She felt his gaze burning the top of her bowed head. “Una, trust me.”
“All right,” she said. Then she raised her eyes to him and smiled. “All right, Prince Lionheart. I trust you.”
He grinned. “Thank you.”
With those words he turned and strode quickly down the hall.
“Wait!” Una cried, running after him. “Are you going so soon?”
“Immediately. I must find employment so that I can save for the long journey. Una, I don’t know how long it will be, and I won’t be able to contact you in the interval – ”
“Don’t worry about me!” she said. She caught him by the arm and pulled him to a stop. “Please, Leonard . . . Lionheart. Please, before you go . . .” Hardly knowing what she did, Una took off her mother’s opal ring. For a moment it stuck, and she thought it might not come off. But then it slid from her finger and she held it out to the jester-prince.
“Here,” she said, pressing it into his hand. “It was my mother’s. I don’t know how much it is worth, but something close to a king’s ransom, I should think. Use it for your journey and . . . and come back soon.”
He looked at the ring, turning it to see how the light caught and burned deep inside the iridescent stones. Then he raised his gaze to Una again. Gently, he reached out and touched her cheek with a finger. “Trust me, Una,” he whispered once more.
Then he left, and she did not see him again for a long time.
–––––––
There is nothing like a secret to create mystery in a girl, and Una was nothing if not a mystery to all around her in the following days.
“Dear child!” Nurse cried when Una burst into tears for no apparent reason three mornings after the jester left. “Dear child, what troubles you?”
“Nothing,” Una said, wiping her eyes and sighing. “Nothing. Isn’t this a beautiful world, Nurse? I mean in general, you know?”
Nurse closed one eye and looked at her sidelong. “Is it?”
Una thought about it. “No. Not really.” She burst into tears again, digging for a handkerchief between hiccups. Monster, sitting at her feet, meowed and touched her knee with a paw. She nudged him away. “No, it’s a cruel world.”
Nurse thought it expedient to bring news of this conversation to King Fidel.
“Are you certain?” Fidel asked.
“I know what I heard. I know what I saw,” Nurse said.
“But what does it mean?”
“I’ll tell you what it means, sire,” Nurse said. “She’s in love, that’s what it means, and not like she was with Prince Gervais either! No, this is a more serious kind. She goes about sighing with a look of noble suffering on her face. So either it’s unrequited or he is far away at present. Either way, I know the symptoms.”
“In love?” Fidel wiped his brow. “If you are right, I do hope it’s the latter, Nurse. If he’s far away, that rules out the duke.”
“The duke? Gracious, no!” Nurse said.
At that timely moment the duke himself made an appearance.
“Majesty!”
His voice boomed through Fidel’s head, and the king’s knees trembled a little as vivid memories of smotherment sprang to mind. But he pulled himself together and said, “My good duke, is something troubling – ”
“Is something troubling me?” the duke cried, and the windows shook. “Is something troubling me, you ask? Majesty, I don’t mind saying that something is troubling me right enough!” He swore roundly, and Nurse pursed her lips and folded her hands.
“I am sorry to hear it.” Fidel prided himself that his voice remained calm. “Whatever your grievance may be, I hope – ”
“That daughter of yours!”
“Una?”
“Whatever her name is! Why didn’t you tell me she was betrothed?”
“Betrothed?” the king and Nurse cried.
The duke swore again. “You could have spared my pride by a word, Majesty. But no, just let me walk into the lion’s den, my eyes wide shut, spoutin’ professions of love and wedding plans and asking about the dowry – ”
“Una is hardly a lion.”
The duke raised a hand. “Don’t try pulling that gibberish about innocent, guileless maidens with me! You set her up to this, didn’t you? Wanted to get back at me for a few childish prank
s, huh? Well, I’ll tell you what I think!”
And he did for the next quarter of an hour, until King Fidel at last summoned his guard to escort the irate duke elsewhere.
“There goes our alliance with Shippening.” Fidel sank into the thick-padded chair behind his desk, sighing. “Oh, Una. Betrothed in secret? And to whom?”
“Who could it be but Prince Aethelbald?” Nurse said.
“Aethelbald?”
“Of course. And now she’s pining for him; he’s been gone for weeks.
Poor little dear must have been afraid to tell me for pride, she was that set against him for so long. . . .”
“Wait,” Fidel said. “That does not sound like Una – and it certainly does not sound like Prince Aethelbald. He would not contract a betrothal with her without informing me. Besides, he was none too happy when he left Oriana – hardly had the look of a man newly betrothed.”
“Why would he seem happy?” Nurse asked. “He was leaving his lady behind for who’s to say how long? And I told you, she’s got all the signs of long-suffering love about her. Perhaps she denied him, then thought better of it after he’d gone? Who else but Prince Aethelbald has been trying to woo her, I’d like to know?”
“Yes,” King Fidel murmured, “so would I.” He rose, his face dark with thought. “Thank you, Nurse, for your insights. Now, where is my daughter?”
Fidel found Una wandering in the gardens, dreamily gazing off into the clouds. She smiled when she saw her father. “Good afternoon, Father,” she said. “Isn’t it a beautiful world?”
“What’s this I hear about your betrothal?” Fidel demanded, preferring not to beat about the bush.
“I am not betrothed,” Una said. “I told the duke no.”
Fidel stood and inspected his daughter. She did not seem particularly altered to him. Perhaps there was some trace of what Nurse called “noble suffering” or some such nonsense, but he could’ve been imagining that. “You are not betrothed?” he asked. “The duke seemed convinced otherwise.”
Una blushed. “I cannot help what the duke thinks. You know that I cannot enter into a betrothal without your blessing.”
“And you know you will have it so long as the man of your choice knows better than to eat soup with his fingers and isn’t up to his ears in debt,” the king said. He looked deep into Una’s eyes, and she met his gaze only a few moments before turning away. “Una, what did you tell the duke to give him the impression that you are betrothed?”
“Nothing, I – ”
“Una?”
Her lip twitched and she sniffed. “I . . . I told him that my heart belongs to another. He asked what that had to do with marriage, and I said, ‘Everything,’ and sent him on his way.”
With this she burst into another one of her recent torrents of sobbing, which her father had not before witnessed. He could not recall the last time he’d seen Una cry and was entirely uncertain what to do about it.
“There, there, child,” he said, patting her shoulder. “There, there. It’s not as bad as all that. He will return soon, I have no doubt.”
“Do you think so?” Una asked, raising her tear-filled eyes. “How do you know?”
“He spoke to me before he set out, of course,” Fidel said, pleased to see how her face brightened. “He promised that he would return as soon as this whole dragon business is settled.”
“He did?” Una beamed like a blaze of sunshine through thick clouds. “Oh, Father, how perfectly wonderful!”
She flung her arms about his neck, and he patted her more comfortably. “I don’t know about perfectly,” he said. “You gave him a pretty harsh send-off, poor man.”
“What do you mean?” Una spoke into her father’s shoulder.
“Well, from what I gathered, he hadn’t much hope, but I am certain he will return even so, and all will be well. He gave his word.”
Una pulled back from his arms and looked quizzically up at him. “I promised that I would trust him, and I’ll wait for him until doomsday if necessary. How can that be a harsh send-off?”
Fidel frowned. “Perhaps he didn’t understand you aright? He was rather dejected when he spoke to me. But no fear. These little misunderstandings are soon cleared away. And I will be proud to have such a man for my son.” He laughed. “Anyone would be a blessing rather than the duke! But don’t let on that I said so.”
Una laughed as well and sniffed back more tears. “I am so glad you feel that way, Father, even if he is poor. But I just know he will succeed and regain his power! You will be proud, though not nearly so proud as I!”
Fidel’s frown returned. “One moment. Regain his power? He had not lost it, last I knew. What rumors have you been listening to, child?”
“I know only what he himself told me. I trust his word.”
“We are speaking of Prince Aethelbald, are we not?”
“Aethelbald?” Una blinked. “Aethelbald!” The corner of her mouth curled.
“If not, then whom have we just been discussing?” Fidel asked.
“Why, Prince Lionheart of Southlands, of course. Leonard, Father. The jester?”
15
King Fidel did not take kindly to this news.
Following the initial explosion, however, he agreed to listen to his daughter’s story and felt he did so with considerable grace.
“So you see,” Una concluded, “Leonard – I mean, Lionheart – couldn’t in all honesty approach you, could he, Father? He did the most right and most honorable thing that he knew.”
The heat of shock having abated somewhat, Fidel restricted his comment to a mere, “I should say he couldn’t approach me, wandering wastrel. We are fortunate he did not try to take money from you!”
Una reflected briefly on her mother’s ring, but passion boiled in her breast and she cried, “Father, must you assume him false? Has he done anything to merit distrust?”
“Yes, I’ll say he has! He’s gone and betrothed himself to my only daughter. A penniless jester, extracting promises from a princess!”
“We’re not betrothed!” Una flapped her hands in frustration. “He extracted no promises from me, but I freely gave my word to trust him.”
“To trust him blindly, without proof that he really is the supposed dead prince of a dragon-ridden kingdom?” Fidel pounded fist to palm. “Would that I had him before me – ”
“Yes, I trust him,” Una said. “And without proof! That’s what trust is, isn’t it? Believing without seeing?”
“Wrong,” her father growled. “That isn’t trust; that’s foolishness! If a man has to ask for your trust, it’s a sure sign you should not give it. Trust should be earned inherently, without any verbal demands. Trust is knowing a man’s character, knowing truth, and relying on that character and truth even when the odds seem against you. That is trust, my dear, not this leap in the dark for a man whose character you don’t – ”
“Perhaps I do!”
“Perhaps you think you do! Perhaps you don’t.”
Una’s eyes overflowed with tears. But these weren’t the passionate tears she’d been crying the last few days. These were steady, throbbing tears, hot on her face. She turned her back on her father.
Fidel sighed and placed his hands on her shoulders, but she shook them away. “Child,” the king said more gently, “if you had told me that you had promised to wait for Prince Aethelbald – ”
“I despise him!”
“Despise him or not, if you had told me that you promised to wait for him, I would rejoice. I know his character and trust his word and would be glad to see you trust him as well.”
“I trust Leonard – Lionheart.”
“You do not even know which is his true name.”
“I do!” Una shook her head sharply. “He is Lionheart! He’s been obliged to live in disguise, but that is no reason to distrust him. Sometimes people have to do things they do not want to do, such as hide their true names, hide their true selves. But I believe he is who he said he is.”
“Both! He’s both, Father. I know he is, and I will trust him till I die!”
A heavy silence followed, and Fidel took the time to stifle his anger. After all, it was not Una’s neck he wished to strangle at the moment. When he spoke again, he managed to keep his voice gentle.
“Una, maybe this fantastic story of his is true. Maybe he will ride back on his white horse in triumph, a crown on his brow and a dragon’s head in his sack. Maybe he will prove himself a true prince someday, a worthy husband for my daughter.” Fidel took the princess by the shoulders, turning her to face him. He wiped a tear from her cheek. “But until then, Una, do not trust him. Let him prove himself trustworthy first. Please, Una, don’t give him your heart.”
She set her jaw, though the skin of her chin wrinkled in an effort to keep from trembling. “He loves me, Father. I just know it. That’s proof enough for me. I’ve given him my heart. I’ll wait for him.” The tears streamed silently down her face, dampening her collar, but her voice was steady. “I’ll wait for him, and I’ll not have another.”
Fidel shook his head and drew his daughter close. “Then I can only pray he will prove worthy.”
–––––––
Days passed, each a small eternity.
But the nights were worse.
Una woke every morning feeling as though she had scarcely slept at all and dreading even the smallest daily activities. Sometimes now she remembered snatches of her dreams, but even those memories faded after a day or two. All that remained was the heaviness, the exhaustion, and behind that a deep, nagging worry.
Few things changed over those months. Felix had his fourteenth birthday celebrated with much pomp. Monster had a less official birthday, celebrated with less pomp. Una saw and declined two more suitors, neither of whom left lasting impressions on her mind. Hours were forever, and she not once received word of her jester-prince. He did not so much as appear in her dreams.
Until one cold night, just at the onset of winter.
Una lay wrapped in quilts, holding still because the less she moved, the warmer she kept. Monster was burrowed somewhere deep, a furry lump at her feet, as near to the bed warmer as he could safely sleep. His purr had long since worn out, and silence held her room in a frosty grip.
Heartless Page 15