Heartless (22 page)

“Felix,” she whispered. “Felix, little brother!”

Sunlight warmed the back of her head and the silver song of the wood thrush flowed down the ribbon of light. It broke through the dragon smoke and slipped through the window to gently touch her as she wept.

“Beyond the final water falling,

The Songs of Spheres recalling.

When the senseless silence fills your weary mind,

Won’t you return to me?”

Something deep inside her trembled. Una breathed deeply and her sobs lessened, though tears still fell. “He will come,” she murmured, looking at her hands in the gleam of sunlight. “He will come back to me. He will make things right.”

The sun moved on and disappeared. The thrush song grew fainter, then was gone. Dragon fumes drew in about her, thick and suffocating once more. She got up and went to her vanity. She took up a heavy, shell-edged comb and ran it through her hair, but it caught in the tangles.

Though she pulled painfully, the knot wouldn’t give. With an angry cry, Una threw the comb into the mirror.

The mirror cracked.

–––––––

The day passed in a haze of smoke. Una sat still on her stool, looking at nothing while her thoughts wandered this way and that, confused in the fumes. She thought of Felix, his wicked grin and ready laugh, thought of the pranks he used to pull, the games they had played together by the Old Bridge when she was his Faerie Queen and he her faithful gremlin. Every nasty thing she’d ever said to him rang back clear as yesterday in her mind, and she cursed herself repeatedly.

But as the day wore on, the poison in the air drove thoughts of her brother into deeper recesses of her mind, removing all good memories and leaving only the pain of loss. She shook her head violently, pressing her burned hands against her temples.

Slowly, the images of Felix flowed from her mind, and now Una thought of Leonard.

She pictured him as she’d last seen him, clad in his Fool’s clothes but his eyes so serious. She tried to recapture every word they had spoken, but many of them had faded. She found it difficult to remember his face. She could recall every expression, every smile or frown – Oh, that dear smile and still dearer frown! But the features were faded and vague.

“I am forgetting him,” she admitted at last. Evening was coming on, but she lit no candles. “I am forgetting him.”

A scream squeezed out of her throat. “No. Please don’t take his memory from me!” Una leapt to her feet, her fists pressed to her temples. “I won’t forget; I won’t! He said, ‘I shall kill that monster and reclaim my kingdom.’ And he promised to return, didn’t he?”

A new picture sprang to her mind unbidden, a picture of a young maiden, fresh and sweet. Her hair was adorned with flowers, and her eyes were alight with joy. Una saw her, this strange girl, more real in her mind than her memories of the jester. And she saw her smiling at Leonard.

“No!” Una shook her head fiercely. “No, he promised!”

“Una, trust me,”
he had said.

“I remember his words. They’re as good as a promise, aren’t they?”

“No, little princess.”

The deep growl echoed hollowly inside her.

“No, little princess, he didn’t promise, did he?”

Her windows burst open and hot air rushed in on her neck. She wrapped her arms about herself, bending double as poisonous air enveloped her. Gagging and choking, she turned to face the window.

The Dragon’s head reared in the darkness outside, his red eyes piercing the dreadful whorls of smoke and flame.

“Come,” the Dragon said. “Come, speak to me of your jester-prince.

I am curious to know more of this story.”

22

Golden light filled Felix’s vision – golden, and blue as well. He blinked, but the world remained a blur of colors. A pain like fire burned in his shoulder and chest. He closed his eyes, grinding his teeth. When he opened his eyes again, his vision was clearer. He saw a pattern of golden leaves above him, crisp against a backdrop of blue. At first he thought it was a mural, but then the leaves danced softly back and forth as though touched by a breeze, and he realized they were real. Or almost real.

He tried to sit up, but searing pain shot from his heart to his shoulder, then up his neck. Gasping, he fell back and found that his head lay cushioned in something downy. A moan escaped his lips.

“You are awake.”

He heard the voice but could not turn his head to view the speaker. It was a soft voice, low and sweet. A gentle hand pressed against his forehead. “You are still feverish,” the voice said.

“Who are you?” Felix asked. His lips were dry, and his voice cracked.

“I am Dame Imraldera,” the voice said. “Lady of the Haven.” A damp cloth as soft as his pillow pressed against his face and across his dry mouth. “My Prince brought you here and asked me to care for you.”

“Your what?” Felix’s brow wrinkled as he tried to put together memories. “Where is here?” He could recall flying across the dark road on his horse, could remember wandering through tall trees. A vision of yellow eyes flashed across his mind, and he flinched back into his pillow. “What’s happened? I . . .” His voice tightened with panic. “Where am I?”

But the low voice hushed him, and the cloth wiped his brow. “You are safe now, Prince Felix. The Prince of Farthestshore has brought you to one of his Havens. You must rest and try to trust me. You have been pierced by dragon claws and have taken in a good deal of poison. But I can heal you.”

Dragon poison
.

Felix felt his face wrinkling up as he tried to suppress tears. He was too old to cry, for pity’s sake! He choked out his next words, hoping the strange woman could not hear the tears in his voice. “My father? Una?”

“My Prince will care for them, child. Sleep now.”

The damp cloth touched his eyelids one at a time, and he slept.

–––––––

Una gathered her skirts in her hands and stepped through the window onto the balcony. The glow of the Dragon’s eyes created a path for her to follow through the murk and cast her shadow sharply behind her.

The heat of his gaze threatened to melt her, yet Una went on, compelled beyond her own wishes or control.

She came at last almost under his jaw and sat down in the circle of her skirt.

The Dragon closed one eye and turned his head to regard her with the other. “Who would have guessed the fire could be found in one such as you?” he said. “How delicious!” His long black tongue licked out. Una shuddered but could not look away.

The Dragon settled himself comfortably, adjusting his vast wings to wall her in on both sides, intensifying the heat. “Now, little mouthful,” he said, “tell me about your jester-prince. Yes, I have met him, but he revealed only so much of himself to one such as I.” He smiled, and flames flickered behind his eyes. “I am curious to know what this Lionheart showed you. Speak, Una. Why should we have secrets from each other?”

Una felt her throat was too parched to utter a word, but when she opened her mouth the words poured out of her like the sudden rush of water from a crumbling dam. She forgot herself and to whom she spoke in the relief of letting her thoughts flow freely. She scarcely noticed the Dragon’s prompting questions, for each direction he prodded her speech seemed so natural, exactly what she wished most to speak of next. Trivial details slipped in with the most poignant moments, yet all seemed equally important. As she spoke, Una found she could picture Leonard’s dear face almost as clearly as if he stood before her, and she never once wondered whether that might be the Dragon’s work.

“He was so fine,” she found herself saying over and over. “Unlike any other young man I’ve met. He knows the meaning of hard work, yet does not run from it like other princes might. His is a life of purpose and direction. Who can compare to him? Prince Gervais? That silly fop with whom I fancied myself in love? Not likely! I see now how cheap was his suit and how cheap was my affection for him. How can a charming personality compare with a noble character? Like my plump parade pony with my father’s war horse.”

“So you loved Lionheart’s princely soul, eh?” the Dragon asked.

“No, not at first,” Una said. “At first I did not even notice it. But I loved him anyway, perhaps even from the first day I met him. He . . . he made me laugh so! He was self-deprecating yet proud, foolish yet witty. I never laughed so much as when I was with him. I was never so happy before.”

“You loved him for making you laugh?” The Dragon chuckled. “How delightful.”

“I did,” she said, “but I did not realize it until later. No, when I began to think of him at all, I stifled those thoughts as foolish. Not until he spoke to me on the night he left . . . spoke to me in a voice I had heard only once or twice from him, altogether unlike his jolly self. . . .” She lost herself in reverie, and although her skin gleamed with sweat in the dragon heat, Una felt cool and distant.

“He spoke of his trials, of the dangers he had endured and had yet to endure. He spoke of his quest to kill . . . ”

“To kill me,” the Dragon said.

“Yes, to kill you. To kill you, to reclaim his kingdom, to put things right for his people . . . So brave, so good is he! But you see, with such a vision before him, how could he let himself be distracted?”

“Not even by you, little princess,” the Dragon murmured.

“Not even by me.”

“His goals were far greater than his love for you.”

“Of course, as it should be.”

“You wouldn’t want to get in his way.”

“Never. He would not be the man I loved if he were to turn aside for me.”

“And so he asked you to trust him.”

“Yes, and I do trust him.”

“And you gave him your heart.”

“My heart is his.”

“But he never gave his in return.”

Una’s lips parted. No words came out.

The Dragon lifted his head and barked a great laugh. “Foolish girl, what kind of exchange was that? You gave him your heart for nothing, and now you have nothing, do you?”

She bowed her head, her hair hanging down to her lap. “I required no promise from him.”

“But he took one from you. Such a noble soul, wouldn’t you say, this Prince Lionheart of yours?”

“He is,” she said. The air was thick and bitter in her nostrils.

“Then that leaves only one alternative,” the Dragon said. “You, little mouthful, are not worth a promise. You are not worth his heart.”

“I – ”

“Either he is not what you thought, or you aren’t,” the Dragon said. “What other choice could there be?”

“I trust him.”

“Then your trust is misplaced, for he has forgotten you. He no longer owns his own heart, for he gave it to another and keeps hers in return. Did I tell you how lovely his betrothed is? I saw her the day I first met your prince. She came from the gardens to drag him away when he fainted for dread of me. Plucky little thing, she was. Beautiful too.”

“I – ”

“You know what I think?” The Dragon snapped his wings, and Una cowered down before him. “I think you are worth far less than you fancied yourself. Not what he mistook you for, are you? Look at you – a crying, sniveling wretch, dirty and ugly. A princess? Hardly.”

Una pressed her forehead to the stones, squeezing her eyes shut.

“He probably realized his mistake the moment he was away. ‘Foolish fellow,’ he said to himself. ‘Why, you don’t even know that girl! What made you think such a passing fancy could be real love?’ ”

“I trust him,” Una whispered.

“As soon as he saw that lovely girl in Southlands, one of his own people, his old friend . . . Ah! Then he knew what love was meant to be. He could trust her. She would not be so stupid as to give her heart to a stranger.”

“He – ”

“A stranger who would dispose of it as soon as it best convenienced him.”

Una gathered herself together, clenching her hands against the burning pain that pulsed from her fingers, up through her arms, and into her head. She tried to stand, couldn’t, so instead she forced herself to look up into the Dragon’s huge face.

“I don’t believe you,” she said.

“Don’t you?” The Dragon leaned down until his breath whipped her hair across the stones. “But what would you say in the face of proof?”

“You have no proof. You are a liar.”

“Am I?” His voice dropped to a low, insidious hiss. “Be that as it may. But look you here and then tell me if I lie.”

He raised his gnarled hand, turning it upward, clutching something. Slowly his claws uncurled, and Una saw what he held in its center.

An opal ring, the stones gleaming with inner fire, reflected the light from the Dragon’s eyes.

Una could not speak.

“Oh, princess,” said the Dragon, “if he could only see you now. How he would count himself blessed to have escaped so weak, so puny a creature as you! How he would congratulate himself on having made the right choice. Your heart or his life. Some men might have dithered, but your Lionheart is a man of resolve. Isn’t he, Una? Strong and steadfast of purpose.”

The great hand closed once more, and Una’s vision filled with smoke. She closed her eyes, her knotted fists scraping against the stones beneath her.

“Poor little Una,” said the Dragon. “You are heartless now, aren’t you? No better than a dragon yourself.”

She crawled backward, and he let her go. She inched her way from his looming presence until she could stand again. Then, shoulders rounded, she retreated to her dark bedroom, closing and latching the window behind herself. The dragon poison whirled in her brain, dizzying and horrible; Una could not think and could not breathe.

“Leonard,” she whispered. “Why don’t you come?”

She fell upon her bed and cried as she had never cried before. With each tear that fell, Una felt her soul shrivel.

–––––––

Fidel surveyed his troops in the gray of early dawn. Hardly more than one hundred men remained from the garrison at Ramgrip. Combined with the regiment from Dompstead, they made a brave front as they lined up for battle on the hills outside Sondhold. General Argus sat on a big horse beside the king, disapproval etched in every line of his face. They were no match for the forces from Shippening.

A messenger rode up and saluted his king and commanding officer.

“The duke’s men are gathered just over the next rise,” he said.

Argus nodded. The information was not new. He turned to the king and said in a low voice, “We’ll be routed, sire.”

“Perhaps,” Fidel said.

“They are more than twice our numbers,” Argus said. “Sire, you know we cannot hope to win.”

Fidel did not reply. Winning a battle was not foremost on his mind. If they could but distract the duke long enough, that was all he asked. A group of five men, hand-selected by him, were to slip into Oriana Palace while the attention of the duke – and hopefully of the Dragon – was diverted. Perhaps they could find the princess and steal her away.

Argus knew the plan but hated it, for he could see no hope of success. “Please, Your Majesty,” he said one last time even as the sun gleamed on the horizon, desperately trying to break through the atmosphere of smoke. “Please accept your loss and run while you still can. We can gather our resources, given enough time, and come back to punish this dog as he deserves! But not today.”

“Felix is safe,” Fidel said. “I must see my daughter now as well.”

He spurred his horse, trotting away from the general down to the front line of soldiers. There he nodded to a lieutenant, who raised a golden horn to his lips. The clear note rose in the thick air, and as one man, the troops stepped forward to meet the duke.

–––––––

Una woke from bitter dreams to see the beam of sunlight break through the ash and smoke and shine upon her floor. She sat up in bed and looked at it glittering on the dust.

In her breast something burned.

“No more,” she whispered.

She climbed from her grayed blankets and left the room. The long, silent corridor seemed like a great throat swallowing her down and down. She stumbled twice on the stairway, gripping the rail for support. At last she reached the entry hall. The door swung open at the slightest pressure, and she stepped into the courtyard.

All was ruin and rubble. Stones, charred black, piled where once had been graceful walls and statues. The trees were burned to smoldering stumps, and the smoke rising from them was venomous.

Una walked amid the ruins, and the ash swirled about her feet. She walked as in a dream, slowly but surely, guided by some unknown force.

The Dragon met her at the gate.

“Yes, princess,” he said, breathing smoke upon her. “Your fire is right.