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.”