But the voices in the courtyard went on.
“I remember every word I ever spoke to you, duke.” The Dragon’s growl filled Una’s head. “I do not forget my word so soon.”
“Then fulfill your promises!” The duke shouted like a petulant child, to all appearances oblivious to the fact that he shouted up at a fifty-foot monster.
“Time!” the Dragon said, and Una fell to trembling at his tone. “These things take time. But if that cringing prince of Southlands was right, it will be well worth the wait.”
Prince of Southlands?
Una’s hands dropped to her sides. “Leonard,” she breathed. She crept back to the window.
The duke stood in the vast shadow of the Dragon, his legs widespread, his arms crossed. The Dragon gazed down on him, his enormous eyes mere slits of fire in his black face. He looked as though he should like very much to swallow the duke whole, but both the duke and the Dragon knew he would not.
“I don’t care about any bargains you made with Southlands,” the duke said. “Our deal is all that concerns me.”
“You have not yet fulfilled your part,” the Dragon said. He snapped his wings, and the soldiers by the gate cowered in terror on the ground, but the duke stood firm.
“I would have if you hadn’t let them go!” he cried, shaking his fist.
“The king and his son are nothing to me,” the Dragon said. “They are your concern. But if it will ease your mind, I will send one of my own to help you in your task.”
“Swear it!” the duke demanded.
The Dragon showed his fangs in an awful smile. “By the fire in the very marrow of my bones.”
The duke, satisfied for the present, made a bow. “I’ll return soon,” he said and turned on his heel. Fire licked from the Dragon’s mouth, but the duke caught his horse and left the courtyard unscathed, his men trailing behind him like so many whipped dogs.
Una crept from her father’s study back into the dark hall. Fear choked her, fear in the recollection that the Dragon could change form and enter the palace, could be inside even now.
But he had not given her to the duke. Not yet.
And her family was still alive.
Why does he not come?
“He will come,” she whispered, rubbing her upper arms. “He will come. I trust him. I know he will come.” She tiptoed down the hall, clinging to shadows. Nothing moved, not a sound reached her ears but her own breathing. The Dragon’s voice ran over and over in her head.
“If that cringing prince of Southlands was right . . .”
She froze, and her hands went to her mouth.
Leonard had gone looking for this monster. This very same beast had destroyed his kingdom. And Leonard had gone hunting for it.
If that prince was right . . .
He’d found it. Of course, they must have met, Leonard and the Dragon. Leonard had gone hunting, and he’d found what he sought, but – Her heart lurched to her throat, then plummeted down to her stomach. “Leonard!” she gasped. New fear rose, spinning inside her so that she could hardly stand. She found herself at the door of her own chambers. With a stifled cry she flung the door wide. She staggered blindly in the dark to the glass doors that led to her balcony and wrenched them open.
Ash and smoke rolled over her, blinding and choking. She put a hand to her mouth and rushed out onto her balcony. The garden below was like a battleground, stripped and burning, small bonfires crackling at intervals. All the white statues were coated in ash.
But she saw none of this. She leaned out over the railing and, between coughs, shouted, “Dragon!”
“Is that you, little mouthful?”
She grabbed the rail for support. The next moment the Dragon’s head reared up out of the smoke and Una found herself eye to eye with her captor. He regarded her through red slits of pupils. “See what a well-trained puppy I am, coming at your call?” Fire streamed through his teeth, and Una thought she would die of fear. “Come, Princess Tidbit,” the Dragon said. “Don’t keep me in suspense.”
“What . . . what . . .” She covered her face and bowed her head, unable to speak.
“It’s about that prince of yours, isn’t it?”
Una jerked her head up. “What has become of him?”
“He’s the one who’ll come for you, isn’t he?” the Dragon purred. His enormous tail twitched in the rubble. “The one your heart holds so dear, so pure.” His eyes flickered crimson in the swirling ash.
“What has become of him?” Una demanded again.
The Dragon laughed a billow of flame and turned. He crawled away into the wreckage, trailing laughter and smoke.
“No!” Una pounded the railing with her fists. Her voice came out in choked, furious barks. “Dragon, answer me! What has become of my jester?”
“Your jester?” The Dragon looked over his wing. “Your jester is dead.”
Una doubled over as though struck in the gut. “Leonard,” she breathed, sinking to her knees. “You killed him. I knew it. You killed him!”
“I? No, not I,” the Dragon said. “No, Prince Lionheart killed your jester. Jesters aren’t much use in reestablishing kingdoms.”
Hope, weak but alive, fluttered in Una’s heart. It hurt like a knife, but she clung to it even so. “Lionheart is alive?”
“If you want to call it that,” the Dragon said.
“You’ve seen him?”
“We met on the road between here and Southlands. I chose not to kill him. I’d not killed him the first time we met and saw no use in changing my mind. We made an agreement. Since I am through with his land, I promised to spare his life if he would do me a favor in return. He was willing enough to agree, for he knew I would kill him otherwise. He is back in Southlands – returned triumphantly a few months ago, I believe.”
“He’s alive,” Una whispered.
“Yes, yes, he’s well too, if that comforts you. He’s betrothed to some baron’s daughter, I hear – a childhood friend of his. A splendid match, they say, and such a happy couple.”
Una’s face lost all color, and the world tilted on end.
“He told me of you and your kingdom when we met,” the Dragon said. “I was intrigued by what he said, thinking perhaps I would at last find what I have long sought. And I have not been disappointed. I knew that prince would be useful to me.”
His words filled her mind like poisonous fumes. Bitterness clutched her throat, and she gagged. Blindly, she felt her way with her hands across the balcony, back into her chamber.
“The jester is dead, little princess,” the Dragon called from the garden ruins. “There’s only the prince left.”
Una crawled into her closet and crouched in the shadows, gasping and holding her head.
19
The king’s small escort thundered into Dompstead, Felix taking up the rear, for he found it difficult to ride with a cat slung over his shoulder. As they arrived at the garrison, Felix saw his father whisked out of sight before the prince had a chance to dismount. His one glimpse of Fidel’s face filled him with dread.
Monster leapt from his shoulder and darted into the shadows. Felix cried out and tried to give chase, but someone grabbed his arm.
“This way, prince,” a soldier said, all but dragging him into the fort. Felix, too tired to argue, allowed himself to be hustled down a dark corridor and between soldiers – none of whom recognized him, and few of whom would have cared if they had.
“This is your father’s room,” the soldier said, and disappeared the next moment, leaving Felix in an unlit, deserted hall outside a shut door. Felix tried the door handle, but it was locked. He put his ear to the door and heard voices on the other side, but no one answered his knock. He crossed his arms and slumped with his back against the door.
After what seemed like hours, he heard the sound of footsteps. A young officer, hardly older than Felix himself, appeared with a lamp in one hand and a stool in the other. “I was sent with this for you,” he said, holding the stool out to
Felix.
“Thank you,” Felix said. “Can you tell me when I may see my father?”
The officer shrugged.
“What of Oriana?” Felix asked, placing the stool on the ground.
“What of General Argus?”
“I know nothing, Your Highness,” the officer said.
A voice at the end of the hall shouted, “Captain Janus! Captain!”
The officer bowed. “Excuse me, prince.” He was gone the next moment, along with the lantern light. Felix settled onto the stool and waited.
The night crept on painfully slowly after the terror of the evening. The voices continued to rise and fall on the far side of the door, but though Felix knocked at intervals, no one would answer him. Another officer came by after an hour or two and offered Felix a room and a bed, but the prince refused. One physician hurrying from the king’s chamber tripped on Felix’s outstretched legs, cursed him roundly, and then realizing he was the crown prince, endeavored to make amends by telling what was happening inside.
Dragon poison.
Felix had heard of such things before, of course. In stories and legends, principle characters often suffered such poisoning if they breathed in too much dragon smoke. Many a pathetic tale had been told involving such a death for a hero or his love.
Some who breathed in the poison did not die, however. Some became empowered by it and went on to accomplish mighty deeds. But those were always the villains of the tales, men or women who saw beauty in terrible things, who found dragon poison as pleasing as perfume.
Felix shivered. His father would never be one of those characters, not in any tale.
But some who survived dragon fumes were not evil. For instance, the legendary bard Eanrin, who wrote The Bane of Corrilond epic, was supposedly present at the destruction of that kingdom, and he must have been exposed to dragon poison. Yet he neither died nor turned evil but was a hero who figured in a hundred tales, most of which he had written.
“So Father won’t die,” Felix told himself. “He’s too good to die like that.”
Dragon poison.
Felix shuddered from deep inside himself all the way out. He leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. At first his tired mind jumped around without thoughts, slipping instead from a sense of color to color. Then suddenly a picture of burning eyes filled his mind, eyes that pierced through darkness and gazed at him over the palace wall.
He startled and barely caught himself from falling off his stool. He’d been asleep, he realized, and shook himself. Down the hall, pale light came through a solitary window. Felix got up and strode to the window, looking out on the practice yard of the fort. Soldiers gathered in small groups here and there, talking in muffled voices. Many were cleaning weapons. Some were sparring. Dark clouds gathered in the sky to the north. Felix realized after a moment that they were clouds of smoke.
“Prince Felix?”
A physician stood in the doorway of the king’s chamber, looking up and down the hall. Felix trotted back to him and asked in a breathless voice, “How is my father?”
The physician smiled and patted the boy’s shoulder. “He will be well, I believe. I am, I confess, no expert in these matters, but my colleagues and I are of the opinion that His Majesty did not breathe in enough of the fumes to cause permanent harm. He is dizzy and weak, but he should – ”
“May I see him?”
“It might not be best for Your Highness to look on him now,” the physician said. “His Majesty does not appear – ”
Felix growled something unintelligible and pushed past the physician into the chamber. It was a small, dark room with a low ceiling and a tiny fireplace in one corner. A cluster of black-robed physicians was gathered at the foot of a narrow bed on which the king lay.
Despite protests from the physicians, Felix stepped up to the head of the bed, knelt down, and took his father’s hands. Tears sprang to his eyes at the sight of Fidel’s face, so gray and lined. He had aged ten years, twenty perhaps, in one night.
“Father?” Felix whispered.
The king’s eyes opened, and he turned to look at his son. “Felix,” he said. His voice was weak but, to Felix’s great relief, sounded stronger than it had only hours before. “Where is General Argus?”
Felix blinked. He’d expected something a little more tender from the beloved father for whose life he’d feared these last hours. “I . . . I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve not heard if he’s come to Dompstead. I’ve been so worried – ”
“Go find him,” Fidel said. “Bring him to me, and don’t let these fools” – he waved at the cluster of physicians who stood clucking on the other side of his bed – “stop you. You’re a prince, remember. Now go!”
Feeling more like a page than a prince, Felix hopped up and hurried from the room, avoiding the disapproving glares of the physicians. He stood a moment in the hall, unsure which way to go or to whom he needed to speak in order to find news of General Argus. Shrugging his shoulders, he turned right down the hall, came to a dead end, retraced his steps, and wandered until he found a door out into the yard.
–––––––
Several hours later General Argus came to Fidel’s sickroom. The king was out of bed and dressed, sitting by the fire. He nodded when the general entered and bowed.
“Where is the prince, Your Majesty?” the general asked.
“I sent him to find you.”
The general raised an eyebrow. “I would be hard to find. I did not reach Dompstead until a few minutes ago and came directly to you.”
“I know,” the king said. “But the boy needed something to occupy his mind, and a fool’s errand seemed as good as any. What news do you bring from Sondhold?”
The general hung his head. “The city is lost, sire. We were surprised, outnumbered – ”
“I need no excuses,” the king interrupted. “Did you see the Dragon?”
“No, sire, we did but hear rumor of it. I saw the duke, however. It was Shippening. His army came out of the Wood and set upon the city.”
“Out of the Wood?”
“Indeed, sire, impossible though it may seem.”
“What of Una?” the king asked.
“I have seen or heard nothing of the princess, Your Majesty,” Argus said.
The king’s fists clenched. “We must save her.” He rose to his feet, swayed, steadied himself, and repeated, “We must save her, Argus. Now.”
“Your Majesty,” Argus said, “I have sent word to garrisons all across Parumvir. Men are coming to help us. But meanwhile our position here in Dompstead is all too vulnerable. With the men I have, I’m not sure I can protect you sufficiently.”
“What are you saying?” Fidel asked.
“Sire, I must beg you to pull back. I lost too many men yesterday. We are weakened beyond belief, and you say there is a dragon involved as well?” Argus shook his head. “I beg you, my king, you must retreat to one of your northern fortresses, away from here at all costs.”
“No.”
“Go into hiding until we have a chance to rebuild.”
“No.”
“If we attack now, we will be destroyed. We’re not strong enough, sire.”
The king turned his back on the general, gazing deep into the fire. “He warned me,” he muttered. “He warned me of this very day. And now the beast has her. What’s to stop the rest of his prediction from coming true? My own daughter.” He clutched his side as though in pain but waved off Argus’s offered arm. “We must save Una,” he said. “Before it’s too late.”
“Your Majesty – ”
“Send Felix to the north,” Fidel said, strength returning to his voice.
“Send my son, but I cannot go as long as that monster holds her.”
“Sire,” Argus spoke gently. “We have no assurance that she is yet living. I . . . I fear it may not be so, and you must accept that she might be – ”
“That would be almost too much to hope for,” Fidel said. “No,
we must save her or know for certain that she is dead. I will not leave otherwise. Gather your men as quickly as you can, Argus. We will return to Oriana.”
–––––––
It wasn’t true, Una decided.
She crawled out of her closet hours later and sat down at her vanity.
It couldn’t be true.
Hunting up matches, she lit a candle and set it off to her right. As though it were any other evening, she took up her brush and ran it through her tangle of hair – twenty strokes, fifty, one hundred.
It isn’t true, she told herself. The Dragon is a liar. Leonard wouldn’t forget me.
She changed from her ash-covered dress into another ash-covered dress.
I promised to trust him.
She poured cloudy water into a bowl and tried to wash her hands.
How can I be worthy of his love if I do not trust him now?
She looked at her face in the mirror, deathly white, streaked with soot, eyes wide and tearless.
“I will trust him,” she said.
–––––––
Felix gave up searching for General Argus and instead occupied himself hunting for Monster, whom he’d not seen since their arrival the night before. This search was also unsuccessful, and he realized partway through the day that he had not truly slept in well over twenty-four hours. The instant that realization struck, he was overwhelmed with exhaustion. He sat with his back against the wall of the barracks and, ignoring the glances of passing soldiers, fell immediately into deep sleep.
He was awakened by a rough hand shaking him. “Wake up, Prince Felix.”
Felix blinked blearily up into the face of the same young officer who had brought him a stool last night. At the same time he became aware of a great commotion in the garrison yard – the ring of metal and the stamp of boots, officers shouting commands – which in his weariness he had slept through. “What’s going on?” Felix asked, rubbing his eyes with one hand and pushing himself upright with the other.