“Come out, princess. There’s no use hiding.”
The key slipped from her fingers and clinked on the stones below. She knelt and felt around in the darkness, desperate to find it. Light suddenly poured into the stone passage, casting her shadow sharply onto the door before her. Shielding her eyes with her hands, she turned and saw the figure standing at the end of the passage, holding high a lamp.
“There you are,” he said.
“Duke Shippening!” she gasped.
The duke stepped into the passage, his face lit from below by the red glow of the lamp. A long knife hung at his belt. “A merry chase you’ve given me, wench,” he growled. “What possessed you to come down here? Thinking to lock me in the dungeons?” He snorted a laugh and advanced across the stone floor, his hand held out to her. “Come here, girl.”
Una crouched on the floor. There was no escape but by the way she had come. Her eyes were wide like a hunted animal’s in the lantern glow.
“Come here,” the duke said. “You’re leaving with me. I’ve waited long enough, I think.”
“No,” Una said, shaking her head.
“What? You’d choose that Dragon over me?” He snorted again. “Well, that ain’t an option. You’re coming with me, going to make me king. Legitimate, even.”
“No.”
He reached out a great hand like a bear paw and lunged. Una ducked and darted under his arm, propelling herself with her feet, her hands scraping the floor. But she tripped on her skirts, and the duke grabbed a handful of hair and pulled her back. She screamed.
“Let her go.”
Una and the duke looked to the end of the passage. The Dragon stood there in human form. His obsidian eyes locked with the duke’s, and fire glowed behind his gaze.
“What for?” the duke growled. “She’s mine!”
The Dragon did not answer, did not move. But the duke obeyed, his fingers slowly uncurling from the tangle of her hair. Released, Una crawled away from him to the space between the Dragon and the duke. She curled up, her hands over her head, her back pressed into the wall.
“Get out.”
“She’s mine, Dragon!” the duke cried, trembling in rage. “You promised her to me to make me king!”
“She’s not ready.”
“Ready for what? She doesn’t have to be ready for nothing! She just has to live long enough to put me on the throne.”
“Get out.”
The duke strode forward until he stood over Una, his big boots stepping on the edge of her skirts, but he did not touch her. “I’ve already done with the heir. The king is nothing without his son, and she’s next in line! I’ve waited long enough. When will you fulfill your end of the bargain?”
“When you have fulfilled yours.”
The duke swore and lurched forward until he stood eye to eye with the Dragon. The duke snarled like a wild animal in the Dragon’s face. “I’ll get the king. But you’d better give me what I ask in return, demon!” He disappeared up the dark stairway, taking the lantern light with him.
But the passage was not dark. Una looked up and saw light, fiery and hot, glowing from the eyes of the Dragon.
“Up, little mouthful,” the Dragon said. “Back to your rooms.”
Una slid up along the wall and, keeping her gaze on her own feet, moved to the base of the stairs. She felt the heat, the horrible heat, emanating from the Dragon’s body as she passed him. She proceeded up the long stairs, in an upward journey that seemed an eternity. The Dragon followed soundlessly.
At last she reached the main level and stepped out of the close darkness of the stair into the spacious darkness of Oriana’s empty halls. She went on down the hall, not waiting to see if the Dragon followed her. In three steps, she paused.
“My brother?” she whispered.
The Dragon’s voice, disembodied, full of heat, hissed in her ear. “Killed this evening, not two hours ago.”
Una ran. Across the hall she fled, around a corner to the main staircase, up two flights to her chambers. She burst into her room, slammed the door, and crumpled to her knees.
“Felix!” she cried.
–––––––
Morning came. The sun cut a single beam through the dragon gloom and shone in a pool just inside Una’s window. Una, leaning against her bedroom door, watched it settle there. With an effort she pushed herself to her feet and crossed her room, kneeling at last in the little circle of light. She tilted her black-smeared face, and tears rolled down her cheeks. She caught them on her hands and watched them trail through the grime. More tears came, and more. She leaned forward, her hair hanging in tangles about her, and sobbed desperate and awful sobs.
“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,