“At last it said, ‘You are a tempting morsel, little prince. But alas, I lost that game long ago! No, I fear I must give you up. Perhaps I shall eat you instead?’
“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.