“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?”