“Preeowl?” Monster nosed his way out from under the quilt and tried to insinuate himself into her lap. But Una pushed him away. Drawing a long breath and trying to calm her heart, she slipped out of bed and staggered to the table with the pitcher of water.
It was empty. The maid must have forgotten to refill it.
“Dragon’s teeth!” She pulled open the curtains. The window was already ajar, but the summer night offered no cooling relief. She felt tears sting her eyes and rested her head for a moment against the window frame.
Never before had she remembered her dreams on waking. But tonight the vision stayed in her mind as vividly as if she still walked in that blighted garden. As vividly as if she gazed even now into the eyes of the white-faced man.
Memories of other dreams trickled in on the edge of consciousness as she stood there looking out on the garden. She did not understand them, but she wondered now how she could have forgotten. Her fingers throbbed, and she longed for water.
The moon burst through a cloud and shone down upon her face. Suddenly, even more than water, Una yearned to walk in that light, to breathe it in and feel it cool her inside.
“Meea?” Monster put up a paw and touched her knee.
“Go away,” she said, glaring down at him. She hastened across the room to her wardrobe and withdrew a bedgown from its depths. She put it on and slipped from the room.
A few servants stood at various posts in the long halls of Oriana, but most of them dozed so late in the night. Una moved past without disturbing them and made it all the way out to the gardens without encountering a single waking soul. No lanterns were lit on the garden paths, not at this hour. But the moon was bright, and her eyes adjusted to its light enough to walk the familiar paths. The gravel path hurt her bare feet, but she scarcely noticed for the pain in her hands.
Monster trailed behind her, a silent shadow.
She did not walk far. She did not need to. Breathing in great gulps of moonlight, Una felt the heat slowly leave her. The tightness of her ring lessened. But when she looked at her hands, she was surprised to see scarlet burn lines across her fingers. Even in the dimness of the moon’s glow, the raw red was discernible. She clutched her hands into fists.
Farther down the tiered garden, a wood thrush sang. Its silver voice floated on the warm air and ran like water around her. She turned toward the sound and gasped.
Prince Aethelbald walked toward her, up the garden path. The moon cast his shadow before him.
He saw her at the same moment. He stopped, and Una could not see his face in the shadows. Drawing her bedgown more tightly around her, she waited for him to either come or go.
“Preeowl?” Monster loped ahead of her, scampering to Aethelbald’s feet. The Prince knelt down and stroked the cat’s head, murmuring something that Una could not hear. Monster flicked his tail and gave several chattering squawks. Then he dashed off into the bushes as though he’d suddenly heard a mouse. Una felt abandoned by her pet as Aethelbald straightened and continued up the path to her.
“Princess,” he greeted her, and she prepared for the questions – “What are you doing here? Why are you up at this hour?”
But instead he said, “I am leaving.”
Leaving? Her brows drew together, and she clenched her fists as she wrapped her arms about herself. Somehow Una could think of nothing to say.
“I must go at once,” he said.
Slowly she nodded. Aethelbald showed no sign of making good his word and dashing off immediately but stood a long while in silence before her. At last Una managed to whisper, “Why?”
“One of mine is threatened,” he said, “far away south. The danger has been mounting, but soon it will be unbearable. I must go before it is too late.”
“Do . . . do as you must, Prince Aethelbald.” Una looked down at her feet and drew another shaky breath. The pain in her hands was agonizing. She thought she might scream.
Aethelbald reached out and took one of her hands. This time she did not pull it back but allowed him to turn it palm up. The burns showed ugly in the moonlight. Gently Aethelbald touched the wounds, and though something in Una urged her to run as far away as she could, she stood silent, unmoving. His touch was soothing, and some of the terror of her dream withdrew.
“Una,” he said gently, “I do not want to leave you. I go because I must.”
Again she tried to speak, but her tongue was thick in her mouth. Her frown deepened, and her fingers curled as though forming claws.
“I will return to you.”
She took a step back, but he did not release his hold. Setting her chin, she tried to drag her arm back, but still he held on. Then her eyes flashed and she glared up at him. “I . . . I don’t want you to return!”
She regretted the words the moment they left her mouth. But they were gone beyond recall now. Hurt flickered over the shadows of his face, but he held her hand just a moment longer.
“Nevertheless, I will come back for you.”
His eyes were kind, but they frightened her. Why had she thought to venture out alone at night? What could possibly have possessed her? Some idiotic dream? The images flooded out of her mind as swiftly as they had flowed in, and she was left feeling deeply embarrassed, conscious only that she stood in the moonlight before the last man in the world with whom she wanted to stand in moonlight.
“Please, Una,” he said, “let me tend your hurts before I go. . . .”
She hauled her hand away and backed up so fast that she stepped on the edge of her bedgown, nearly pulling herself down. The hem ripped, long and loud, and she knew she would be in for another scolding from Nurse when the damage was discovered. Angrily she snapped, “I have no hurts, Prince of Farthestshore! I don’t know what you’re talking about! I am perfectly well, my hands are perfectly well, all would be perfectly well if only you would leave a girl alone for once! Can’t I even take a stroll without you hounding my footsteps? Go already, if you’re going to! I wish you’d gone ages ago! I wish . . . I wish you’d never come!”
Tears sprang to her eyes and dripped down her cheeks, and she just knew he could see them. Dragons eat him! She whirled about to go, but even as she rushed toward the garden door, she heard the crunch of his boots on the gravel as he hastened up beside her.
“Una,” he said, and put out an arm to block her path. Aethelbald did not touch her, but she drew back as though bitten. “I love you, Una,” he said. “I will return to ask for your hand. In the meanwhile, please don’t give your heart away.”
The next moment, he was gone.
Una stood alone by the garden door, gazing out across an empty garden. In the east, the sky was just beginning to lighten, though many stars gleamed overhead.
She returned to her stuffy chamber and crawled back into bed. Before falling asleep, she glanced at her hands. There was not a mark to be seen. Burying her face in her pillow, she fell asleep.
–––––––
Hours later, the Prince of Farthestshore and his three knights were gone. When Una made what she hoped were disinterested inquiries over breakfast, her father informed her that Aethelbald had taken his leave of Fidel the evening before and set out from Oriana before dawn.
“I guess you finally drove him off,” Felix said, glumly stirring his oatmeal.
“I did no such thing. I merely made myself clear. And what do you care? You didn’t exactly treat him as the favored guest!”
“I don’t care,” Felix shrugged, but his long face suggested otherwise. He imagined returning to his fencing practice in company with his attendants, and the thought gave him no pleasure. “Let him go, I say. It’s not like we ever needed him.”
“No,” Una said. “No, we certainly never needed him.”
But she had no appetite that morning.
Weary after her restless night, Una excused herself from lectures and returned to her rooms. As she turned into the east wing, where her chambers were located, she spotted a servant hard at work, mopping. She paus
ed in surprise as recognition slowly caught up in her tired brain.
“Leonard!” She shook her head and stepped down the hall toward him. “I hardly know you without your costume. Where is your hat?”
The jester, looking singularly unjesterly in a baggy brown smock, dropped his mop with a splash and straightened. “Princess Una.” He gulped. “Hullo. Yes, I’ve come to quite a state, haven’t I?”
“What are you doing?” Una demanded with a laugh.
He smiled back, but his smile was forced. “It would seem I am unable to earn my bread with full-time foolery. I must harden myself to the rigors of the baser tasks a man can stoop to, such as mopping the floors of those who . . . Well, it is employment, isn’t it? A fellow must be grateful.”
“Oh,” Una hastened to say, “please, I didn’t intend to make fun. This is only temporary, anyway, isn’t it? You won’t have to work like this for long, I’m sure.”
Leonard raised an eyebrow. “You are kind to your humble servant, m’lady.” He nodded curtly, then stooped to retrieve his mop.
“No, truly, I am sorry,” Una said. “You really are a wonderful jester, you know, and I’m sure you’ll find work – ”
“I have sufficient work, obviously. And don’t you think it odd for a princess to apologize to her cleaning staff?” He bowed and turned away. His arms worked furiously back and forth, pushing the mop.
Una, having never before been brushed off by one of the servants, could think of nothing to say. She hurried down the hall, shaking her head and wondering why she felt embarrassed.
But before she’d gone far, Leonard called after her. “M’lady?”
She stopped, surprised, and looked back.
The jester stood with both hands on the top of the mop stick, rubbing the back of his leg with the opposite foot.
“M’lady, I don’t think you should accept the Prince of Farthestshore’s suit,” the jester said. “When he returns. If he returns.”
Una drew herself up. “I don’t see what business it is of yours, my good man.” She spoke coolly in what she thought of as her regal voice. But the red blotches crept over her nose anyway.
Leonard stared boldly back at her for several moments before averting his gaze to study his feet. “Of course, a floor scrubber’s opinion counts for nothing, m’lady.”
Una hastened on to her rooms.
13
Another suitor announced his intention of paying his respects at Oriana Palace.
“Iubdan’s beard, they’re thicker ’an flies in July, these wooers of yours, Miss Princess!” said Nurse.
“Who is it this time?” Una asked. She scarcely glanced up from the Bane of Corrilond tapestry when Nurse entered the room bringing word. She found herself less able to work up any measure of excitement over the matter than before. So far suitors had afforded her more distress than anything.
“The Duke of Shippening,” Nurse said. “A powerful man, master of Capaneus, the greatest port city on all the Continent!”
Una paused with her needle pulled partway through a bean man’s eye. “The Duke of . . . But Nurse, he’s older than Father!”
“A sturdy age, practically the prime of life.”
“Practically?”
“Close enough, anyway. And his estates are – ”
“He’s been called the largest man south of Beauclair!”
“As I said, he is quite wealthy – ”
“Regarding his girth, not his riches!”
Nurse sniffed. “Good health is always desirable in a spouse. Why, my Uncle Balbo was a man of no mean scope, but he always . . .”
Una ceased to hear Nurse champion the virtues of famous Uncle Balbo as she stared in horror down at her needlework. The bean man she was currently working had his mouth open in a silent scream as he fled the onslaught of the flaming threads. Una felt her own face mirroring his expression. “The Duke of Shippening?” She closed her eyes. “Why me? Why couldn’t some other princess be blessed with such suitors?”
Before Nurse had quite run out of steam for her monologue, Una leapt up and fled the room, deaf to Nurse’s cries of, “Where are you going now, Miss Princess? If you go off in that Wood of yours and come back a mass of burrs, just see if I’ll – ”
The door shut, and Una hastened down the hall, hardly knowing where she went. For all the grandeur of Oriana Palace, with its hundreds of rooms and sweeping corridors and pillared halls, she felt trapped like a bird in a cage. Not even the gardens seemed welcoming once she got out into them, for rather than enjoying the summer beauty, she felt aware only of the walls rising all around. So she gathered her skirts and made once more for her beloved Wood.
Five weeks had passed since Prince Aethelbald had taken himself away, and summer was bursting with full glory, including gnats and bugs. But as soon as she stepped into the shadows of Goldstone Wood, the insects disappeared and the heat of the sun passed into coolness. She followed familiar landmarks down to the Old Bridge.
The Duke of Shippening?
All romance seemed to have vanished from life in one fell swoop. She might as well give it all up now and begin preparing herself for the role of spinster princess of Parumvir –
“Ouch! That was my foot.”
Una screamed and leapt back. “Oh, Leonard! It’s you!”
Sitting in the shade of a spreading oak was the jester. He was propped with his hands behind his head and his feet spread out before him, facing the stream and the Old Bridge. He drew back one foot and rubbed it.
“Did I step on you?” Una asked. She felt the blotches leaping into their accustomed places and self-consciously covered her face with her hand.
“No,” said the jester. He rose politely, dusting dirt and bracken from his trousers, then bowed with all the courtesy of a lord. “You kicked me. Hard. Like unto broke the bone!” But then he saw the distress on her face and shook his head. “No, m’lady, you scarcely touched me. You appeared so set on your path, I feared if I didn’t speak up, you might walk right on into the stream and drown without noticing.”
“Without noticing you or without noticing drowning?”
“Both, probably.” He grinned. “Do you come here often?”
Una nodded. She found herself reminded suddenly of her meeting with Aethelbald in this same spot, many weeks ago now. But she shook that thought away. Aethelbald was gone, and if all went as she expected, he’d never return. She folded her arms and regarded the jester. “What are you doing out here?”
He inclined his head. “You mean, of course, don’t you have a certain amount of mopping or sweeping, or some such menial task you could be attending to as we speak?”
“I didn’t – ”
“But in fact, m’lady, this humble riffraff has already completed his quotient of demeaning labor for the morning and was given the afternoon off to practice his foolishness. And he needs the practice badly enough, for he is beginning to fear that he shall have to give up this brilliant career.”
“What? Why?”
“Why? She asks me why?” Leonard picked up a handful of acorn caps and started juggling them as he spoke. “Three times,” he said, “three times I witnessed the princess yawn last night as I sang. Not once, not twice, but thrice! And yet m’lady asks me why.”
“Don’t be silly,” Una said.
“Can’t be helped. It’s my job.”
“But I didn’t yawn when you sang, Leonard!”
“Then why did you cover your mouth with your handkerchief? I saw it with my own eyes!” He bowed his head, the picture of dejection, but continued juggling the acorns at lightning speed.
“I was trying to keep from laughing too hard!” Una said, her eyes darting as they tried to follow the progress of the acorns. “I was. So you see, you must continue your brilliant career, jester. Where would my amusement come from if you abandoned it?”
He looked up. “Do I indeed amuse you, m’lady?”
“You amuse me vastly.” She shook her head. “Silly, how could I no
t be amused? Why, you’ve gone and tied bells to your elbows and knees. Just when I thought you couldn’t look more ridiculous!”
“I am droll, though, am I not?” With that he tossed the acorns up in the air with feigned clumsiness; a trick which he must have practiced a thousand times, for it took skill to make each one, though they appeared to fly at random, land on his head, one after the other. He made a different face as each struck, and Una had to laugh.
“You snicker at me,” he said, shaking a fist at her, “but I know that you are secretly jealous. ‘Ah!’ the lady sighs, ‘if only I could wear bells upon my elbows, then my life should be complete!’ ”
“Heaven forbid,” Una said. “Oriana has room for only one Fool, I believe.”
“Especially so great a fool as I,” the jester replied without a smile. “And what brings you down here, Princess Una?”
She sighed. “Suitors.”
“You make it sound like the descending hordes. How many this time?”
“The Duke of Shippening.”
“Ah. Comparable to a half dozen at least.” Leonard turned and strode to the Old Bridge, but he didn’t step onto it. Instead he climbed down the bank to the rocks alongside the stream and began collecting pebbles. He juggled them a few moments, then tossed them back into the stream and searched for more.
Una took a seat on the bridge and dangled her feet over the edge, watching the jester. “Have you ever,” she began, then paused, considering her words. “Have you ever dreamed of one thing for so long, wanted nothing more than to have that dream fulfilled, only to find out that maybe it wasn’t what you actually wanted all along?”
He juggled four stones lightly. “I believe that’s called growing up.” He switched to one hand, the little rocks flashing wet in the sun.
Una watched without actually seeing and continued to think aloud. “But then you find yourself lost without your dream.” She toyed with her opal ring, twisting it around on her finger and watching the light reflecting in its depths. “Like half your heart is gone right along with it.”