“Beana told me someone needed help down here,” the veiled girl said, moving around the goat. “Shoo, Beana.”
“Bah!” said the goat.
“Who are you?” Una asked. Her voice was harsh in her mouth, but she hardly cared.
“I am nobody,” the girl said. “Who are you?”
Una shook her head and gave no answer. She buried her face in her knees again.
“Have you come from the Wilderlands? Are you trying to climb to the Eldest’s City?” The girl drew closer until she stood over Una. Her voice was easier to understand now that she was near; she spoke with the strong accent of Southlands.
Una did not look up but shrugged her shoulders.
“You are weak and worn.” There was a long pause, then, “And I see that you suffer.”
Una felt a hand touching her scale-covered arm. She snapped upright and pulled it away from the veiled girl’s grasp. “Leave me alone!”
“Please, m’lady,” the girl said humbly. “I am not one to judge you. Will you look?”
Frowning and cringing away, Una lifted her face to see the hand the veiled girl extended to her. To Una’s surprise, she saw that the hand was gray and hard as stone, and tipped with long claws. She looked up at the veiled face and could just discern eyes through a slit in the linen. “Are you . . . are you like me?”
The veiled one shook her head. “No, m’lady. But let me help you even so.”
Hesitantly, Una reached up and placed her awful hand in the awful hand of the stranger. She was surprised at the strength in the veiled girl’s grip as she found herself pulled to her feet.
“You go to the city?” the girl asked.
Una nodded. She allowed the girl to put her arm across her shoulders and support her as they began to climb the trail. The shaggy goat turned about nimbly and led the way, sometimes pausing to bleat an irritable “Bah!” as she went.
The sun was high by the time they came to the plateau above. Una shook herself free of the veiled girl. “Which way to the city gates?”
“I can take you there myself,” the veiled one said. “I serve in the Eldest’s House. I know the way.”
“Serve in the Eldest’s House?” Una felt the fire flickering inside her.
“Have you seen . . . That is . . . have you heard tell of . . .”
“Yes, m’lady?”
Una shook her head and moved away from the girl. She couldn’t bear to know. Not yet. No, she must find him, that was all, and he himself could tell her all she needed to know. “Thank you for your assistance,” Una said, turning her back on the girl. “I will find my own way.”
“Please, m’lady – ”
“Leave me alone!” Una cried. And with a strength she had not realized she still possessed, she started running, running across the open land to the city before her, fueled by a fire inside and a keen desire to leave the stranger and her ugly goat far behind. When at last she dared look back, she breathed in relief to see she was not followed.
Her path took her directly to the city gates. She covered her hideous arm as best she could and slipped into the ranks of plentiful commoners. She still felt out of place, for everyone about her was brown and clad in brilliant colors and bangles and scarves. She took shelter behind a great mass of a woman with curly red hair and an enormous voice who kept shouting to those around her in such a thick accent that Una could not hope to understand her. Shielded by such a person, she doubted she would attract much attention. Unless the guards looked close and saw the remnants of silver threads in her tattered clothes, Una could pass for the most innocuous of peasants. But her dragon hand – what could she do with that? Once more she tucked it into the folds of her gown.
“Hey there, young miss!”
It took Una a moment to realize the guard spoke to her. She blinked and pointed to herself, raising her eyebrows in a worried line.
“Yes, you!” the guard barked. “You’re totterin’ like a drunkard! You been samplin’ the wine a’fore the festival?”
Una, who could scarcely understand a word he said, so thick was his accent, tried to shuffle past, hiding her hand, her eyes fixed on the feet of the red-haired woman before her.
“Eh, I asked you a question!” the guard said. He grabbed her right arm sharply as she passed and whirled her about to face him. She gasped in pain as his fingers dug into her skin. She twisted her other arm behind her back, hiding it as best she could. Then she gasped again when she found herself looking into dark eyes very like those eyes so dear to her memory. For an instant she thought her journey over, her beloved found.
That instant passed.
The guard dropped her arm as though burnt and backed away, his eyes widening. He shook his head and growled, “Move ’long, girl. Eh, scat!”
Una ducked her head and scurried into the city.
The streets were crowded, but it was not the sort of crowd caused when people leave their work and shops, lock up, and make for home, as would be usual for that time of day. Una had been out in the city back home enough times to know how the routine should look and feel. Rather, this crowd was a festive one, full of laughing tension edged with joyous frenzy. The people she passed were giddy, as though they had not known happiness in a long time and this new taste of it intoxicated them. They shoved and jostled, but all in fun and good spirits.
It frightened Una. Every time someone bumped into her, they turned with a smile and a bright “Sorry!” on their lips. But when she met their gazes, their lively voices turned to murmurs and they backed away hurriedly. Each time, Una wanted to hide her face, to crawl under a stone and disappear. She lowered her eyes, pulling her hair around her cheeks as a hood, and went on. She kept her left hand tucked under her arm, hoping that no one would see it.
Once a woman ran by with a wild laugh and accidentally pushed Una off the street, into a dark alley. Una, glad for momentary relief from the crowds, leaned her back against the wall and sighed, pressing a hand to her burning chest. “Let it die,” she murmured. “Oh, let it die. I must find him.”
A clatter at the end of the alley caught her attention. She turned and saw a tiny orange kitten, tail high, trotting toward her. “Monster,” she whispered, though she knew it wasn’t her pet. She knelt down, holding out a hand.
The kitten halted. Its ears went back and its tail bristled. It let out a tiny snarl and a hiss, turned, and dashed into the shadows.
Una rose and stepped back into the street. Setting her jaw, she pushed and prodded her way through the crowds, stepping on feet and using her elbows as needed. Everyone seemed to be making their way uphill, so she focused her energies on going that direction too. Somehow, she felt she would find answers there.
Leonard, I’m coming. Wait for me.
In all the babble around her she made out a few words: “The crown prince.” “The Lady of Middlecrescent.” “The crown prince.”
Una felt the flame in her chest flare every time she picked out those words. The crowd became so thick, she thought she would suffocate, and she screamed, “Wait for me!”
People backed away from her in surprise. The crowds parted, and she passed through the last street into the city square at the crest of a low hill.
The square was filled with more people than Una had ever before seen. Ribbons and banners were strung between buildings and poles and, near a fountain in the very center, musicians played and young people danced. All around her she heard the murmurs, “The crown prince! The crown prince!”
She saw a great house on the far side of the square, toward which most of the people seemed to be pressing. It had huge double doors, once white, now grayed from heavy smoke, and above was a balcony large enough to hold an entire company of soldiers. The house, she guessed, must belong to the mayor, and on that balcony the people expected soon to see the reason for all their merrymaking.
She pushed her way forward, and people, after a glance at her face, let her through without a word. She stood at last just under the balcony where the f
evered excitement had reached a zenith.
“Excuse me,” she said, touching the sleeve of a burly man, a butcher by the stains on his hands and fingernails. “Is the crown prince expected soon?”
“Yes, miss,” he rumbled in the jewel-like tones of Southlands, shrugging off her hand and stepping back. “Why else do you think we’re here?”
“To celebrate his betrothal?” Una asked, reaching out to grab the butcher’s sleeve again, afraid he’d escape before answering.
“His wedding, miss,” the butcher said, using both his strong hands to shove hers away. “Don’t you know he marries Lady Daylily, the Baron of Middlecresent’s daughter, at the week’s end?”
Una let him go, and he disappeared into the crowd. She turned her gaze up to the balcony. “It’s not him,” she whispered. The flame inside hurt so badly! “It’s not my Leonard.”
Suddenly a great shout filled the square. Una wanted to clap her hands to her ears but dared not expose the scales on her left hand. She could not tear her gaze from the spot at the front of the balcony, between two flags, where she knew he would stand.
Then there he was.
She hardly recognized him clad in blue and scarlet, rich clothing fit for a prince. A crown of silver graced his head where once had sat a bell-covered hat. His face, so comical, so expressive, was now bearded and solemn even as he smiled down on the people. He was thinner, older, sterner.
But he was her jester.
“Prince Lionheart! Prince Lionheart!” the crowd cried, and there was love and pride in their voices.
“Leonard,” Una whispered.
The prince raised a hand to salute the crowd, then reached behind and drew someone up beside him. She was radiant, smiling, dressed in elegant fur wraps against the winter chill. She seemed ready to burst with joy as she waved to the people and clung to her prince’s hand.
“The Lady of Middlecresent! Lady Daylily!” The crowd redoubled its shouts, and the musicians struck up a lively tune so the young people could dance again to express their joy.
Una clutched her stomach. The fire rolled inside her, and she felt she’d be sick as she watched the beauty accepting smiles from the prince. Her jester. Her Leonard. Sobs and fire choked her throat. Without hope that her voice could be heard in that joyful din, she raised her right hand to her face and shouted, “Leonard!”
The noise did not decrease; the festive mayhem did not abate. But the prince stepped away from his lady, leaned over the rail, and searched the seething masses. His gaze met Una’s.
He gasped.
Blood like lava pounded in her veins, and she panted with the terror of it. For Una felt, in that moment when she saw the look on his face – not a look of joy or delight, as she had so long dreamed of seeing when at last reunited with him, but of pure surprise and, an instant later, pure horror – that she would burn him alive with the heat of her eyes if she could.
“Una.” His lips formed her name, though she could not hear him. His hands tightened on the rail, and he shook his head and looked again. She gazed up at him, all the sorrow in the world on her pale face, and he knew his eyes did not lie.
The lady touched his shoulder and asked a question. Startled, he turned to her and made a hasty reply. Then he vanished from Una’s sight, leaving the lady standing alone.
Una could not look at her but turned away, waiting. She knew he would come. This time, he would come.
27
"Una!”
She turned around, and there he stood. His crown was gone and he wore a cloak to hide his rich clothing, but she would know him in a thousand.
“Leonard,” she whispered, her voice drowned in the din around them.
He stepped forward, his eyes intent on her face. “Una, what . . . what has happened to . . . What are you – ”
He grabbed her hand, and she kept the other tucked out of sight as he drew her aside, elbowing his way through the crowd, which did not recognize him and which was only too glad to get away from the pale, foreign girl. Lionheart half sheltered her with his cloak, as though trying to hide her from prying eyes, or perhaps to protect those eyes from seeing her. He brought Una through the worst of the crowds, then pulled her down a narrow side street where few people walked. He took another turn and another. Neither tried to speak; both moved as quickly as they could.
They came at last to the outskirts of the city, where few houses stood and a trickle of a drainage stream flowed quietly under an unguarded footbridge. At the bridge, Lionheart halted and let Una go. He threw back his hood so that she could see his stern face. His hair stood all on end, just as she remembered.
“Where is your father?” he demanded.
“I do not know.”
“You are come alone, then? How did you get here? Why was I not given advance notice of your coming?”
“No one knows,” she said.
Prince Lionheart shook his head. “You can’t do that. You’re a princess.
You can’t travel all the way from Parumvir to Southlands by yourself!”
“But I did.”
He stared at her, studying her face. “What has become of you, Una?” he asked, and she could hear fear lying just beneath the surface of his voice.
“I could ask the same,” she whispered.
“No, I mean it,” Lionheart said, shifting on his feet. “There is something odd about your face, something not – ”
“Again, I could say the same,” Una replied, and a tiny smile lifted a corner of her mouth. “That beard . . .” She reached out a hand to his face, but he caught it and pushed it away.
“This is no time for jokes,” he said.
Una drew back and wrapped her arms about herself, still keeping the scale-covered hand hidden. “Then it is true,” she said. “You have killed him.”
“Killed whom?”
“My jester.”
He stared down at her a long moment, a number of dark expressions sliding across his face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.
“Oh, Leonard!” She tried to touch his arm, but he turned away and stepped back.
“I’m not Leonard, Princess Una,” he said. “I thought I told you that.”
“Where did you go?”
He raised an eyebrow and refused to meet her gaze. “Here, obviously. Back to Southlands.”
She shook her head. “You know what I mean.”
“I don’t!” he snapped. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I’m not sure you do either. You aren’t speaking rationally.”
“Leonard – ”
“That is not my name, and I wish you wouldn’t use it!” He pinched the bridge of his nose, frowning. “I did exactly what I told you, went exactly where I said I would, back . . . How long ago was that? Many months! I left your home and traveled directly down here, just as I had purposed while enjoying your father’s hospitality.”
“And you fought the Dragon? Killed him, even?” Una stepped closer to him and reached out again to touch his hand, but he pulled away, tucked his hands under his arms, and leaned against the bridge railing. She forged ahead. “Please tell me, my prince. Tell me how it happened.”
“The Dragon was gone by the time I arrived,” he said, “leaving my kingdom in ashes, my people rendered near helpless with fear, my father near crazy with sorrow.”
“You never saw the Dragon?”
The prince still would not meet her gaze. “Don’t think it’s been easy. I maybe didn’t fight a monster, but the work I’ve had to do, the blood, sweat, and tears I’ve poured into rebuilding my people, and will have to keep pouring out for years to come before we’ll ever reach our former – ”
“You never saw the Dragon?”
“Aren’t you listening to me? It was gone by the time I got here.”
“That’s not what he said.”
“What?”
“He said you made an agreement, that he wouldn’t kill you and would let you return home if . . . if what? What was your si
de of the bargain?”
“Una, your voice . . .” He stared down at her, and fear raced across his face, but he hid it the next instant. “What are you saying? Of whom are you speaking?”
“You know whom I mean.” Una stepped close and grabbed his arm with both her hands, but he yelped and shook her off.
“You burn!” he said. “Una, are you ill?”
She pulled her hands close to her sides, her fists clenched. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I am. What was your side of the bargain, Lionheart? When the Dragon agreed not to kill you?”
“You’re babbling nonsense,” he growled. “I’ve made no bargains with anyone. I came here, just as I told you. Why don’t you listen?”
“No bargains?” Una spoke to the boards of the bridge. “What about the bargain you made with me?”
Lionheart did not answer. The drainage stream trickled underneath them laboriously, as though any moment it would dry up altogether.
“You asked me to trust you,” Una said. Her voice quavered, but no tears came to her eyes. “You asked me to trust you, Lionheart.”
“I shouldn’t have said that,” he said. “I must have forgotten. But I should never have said that or anything of the kind to you.” He rubbed a hand down his face and shook his head. “And your ring, the one you so generously lent me. I’d almost forgotten that as well. I will pay you back for it, I promise.”
Dirty promises!
Flames raged inside her head, but Una bit her tongue and struggled to suppress them.
“You promised you’d return,” she whispered.
“If I did, I shouldn’t have. I should have known my obligations would keep me here.”
“And her?”
Lionheart lowered his head, trying to look her in the eyes, but she turned away. “I am going to marry her, Una. I had no right to say any of those things I said to you. I am ashamed of any implications I made.
They were foolish, thoughtless – ”
“Which gives you the right to unmake them now?”
The sun disappeared behind a cloud, casting the world below into shadows. But Una’s world burned red.
“You asked me to trust you.”