The man with the white face gave the duke a look that sent a chill through Una’s heart, though the duke seemed not to notice. “The princess is inside,” the man said.
“Give her to me, then,” the duke said.
Una’s grip on the window frame tightened.
The man with the white face snorted and turned his back on the duke.
“You promised!” the duke cried. “You promised she’d be my wife and the throne would be mine legitimately!”
“That cannot be as long as the king and his male heir are alive,” the man said over his shoulder, striding toward the gardens. “Finish your job by them first. She’s not ready yet anyway.”
“Not ready yet?” the duke thundered. “What’s she got to be ready for? She’s mine, Dragon. You promised! Give her to me!” He ran after the man in the black cloak and grabbed him by the shoulder. The man turned, and suddenly he was grown twice, three times, six, ten times larger, until his body, black and scale-covered and gnarled, towered above the duke, and Una smothered a scream in her hands and leapt back from the window. She closed her eyes, her hands wrapped over the top of her head, willing herself to wake from this nightmare.
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!”