Heartless

Fidel did not reply. Winning a battle was not foremost on his mind. If they could but distract the duke long enough, that was all he asked. A group of five men, hand-selected by him, were to slip into Oriana Palace while the attention of the duke – and hopefully of the Dragon – was diverted. Perhaps they could find the princess and steal her away.

Argus knew the plan but hated it, for he could see no hope of success. “Please, Your Majesty,” he said one last time even as the sun gleamed on the horizon, desperately trying to break through the atmosphere of smoke. “Please accept your loss and run while you still can. We can gather our resources, given enough time, and come back to punish this dog as he deserves! But not today.”

“Felix is safe,” Fidel said. “I must see my daughter now as well.”

He spurred his horse, trotting away from the general down to the front line of soldiers. There he nodded to a lieutenant, who raised a golden horn to his lips. The clear note rose in the thick air, and as one man, the troops stepped forward to meet the duke.

–––––––

Una woke from bitter dreams to see the beam of sunlight break through the ash and smoke and shine upon her floor. She sat up in bed and looked at it glittering on the dust.

In her breast something burned.

“No more,” she whispered.

She climbed from her grayed blankets and left the room. The long, silent corridor seemed like a great throat swallowing her down and down. She stumbled twice on the stairway, gripping the rail for support. At last she reached the entry hall. The door swung open at the slightest pressure, and she stepped into the courtyard.

All was ruin and rubble. Stones, charred black, piled where once had been graceful walls and statues. The trees were burned to smoldering stumps, and the smoke rising from them was venomous.

Una walked amid the ruins, and the ash swirled about her feet. She walked as in a dream, slowly but surely, guided by some unknown force.

The Dragon met her at the gate.

“Yes, princess,” he said, breathing smoke upon her. “Your fire is right.

You are one of my kin.”

“Yes,” she said, her eyes tearless and sad.

“But not completely.” He smiled. “Come closer, and I shall finish the work for you. Come here, mouthful. Your heart belongs to me.”

The princess stepped toward him, her face upraised.

“Lean closer,” he said. “Let me kiss you.”

The blood rushed in her veins, throbbing in sudden panic, but the princess stood on her toes, reaching up to the Dragon. She felt the brand of his kiss on her forehead.

She fell back, crying out in agony, but the cry changed to a roar, hideous and deep, bursting from her breast and out her throat in flames and smoke. Her hands hit the ground, but instead of hands, terrible scales and claws scratched and tore the stone to pebbles. Ebony wings beat from her shoulders, and more flames burned her mouth, burned the ground, scorching everything around her black.

“What have you done to me?” she cried. Her voice was harsh with fire.





23

The Dragon watched the young dragon roll upon the ground, slapping her wings against the burning rubble. He said nothing, only watched while furnaces smoldered in his eyes.

At last Una lay exhausted, her sides heaving, her fire momentarily spent. The Dragon approached her, his fangs gleaming in a monstrous smile.

“My daughter,” he said, “what a fine fire you have inside! Five years now I’ve searched for you, and I might have passed you by, such a puny creature you are. But I pride myself on having recognized you at last.”

The dragon that had been a princess opened an eye. It glowed dully, though fear rimmed the edges and dilated the pupil. “What have you done to me?” Her voice was rough as gravel underfoot.

“What have I done?” The Dragon flared the black crest on his head in pride. “I’ve released you, my sister, my child! I’ve allowed you to become what you truly are, what you have been all this time. Now you may embrace the freedom of your spirit unbound!”

Una moaned, and her eyes rolled back in her head.

“You know it is true,” the Dragon said. “You’ve known all along, deep inside.”

“What am I to do?” the young dragon asked, pushing herself upright.

The Dragon opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment a horn sounded not far off, beyond the gate, across the fields, and over a hill. Its golden note broke clear through the heavy air, and both dragons turned to the sound, the elder with a snarl and a burst of flame, the younger with a new light in her eye.

“My father!” she rasped in her burning throat.

The Dragon hissed and raised himself to see over the high stone wall.

“The fool,” he growled. “I warned him, didn’t I?”

The young dragon, wings flailing, struggled to her feet and also peered over the wall. Through a haze of red, she saw the lines of King Fidel’s army advancing, armor and weapons gleaming dully in the light of torches, for the sun could not pierce the Dragon’s gloom.

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