Heartless

“Your Majesty.”


“How did you come here?” Fidel asked.

“Through the Wood.” The shadowy figure stepped before the king and knelt at his feet. “I bring you news.”

Fidel shook his head. He could not see the features of the face turned to him, but he reached out and patted a shoulder. “I can bear no more just now, Prince Aethelbald,” he said. “You were right. My son is lost to me, and my daughter – ” He choked on his own words, and his hand shook on the Prince’s shoulder.

Aethelbald bowed his head. A long silence hung between them, broken only by the king’s shuddering breaths and the cries out in the yard. Aethelbald reached up and took the king’s hand. “Felix is safe,” he said.

“What?” The king’s voice broke.

“Felix is safe in my Haven on the Borders between this world and the other,” Aethelbald said.

“My son?” Fidel whispered.

“Yes, Majesty.”

Fidel’s tears fell heavily down his face, and he could not speak for a moment. “You are of their kind,” he murmured at last. “I wasn’t sure what to believe before. All those old wives’ tales come to life, come out of the Wood. It was too fantastic. But you are of the Far World, aren’t you?”

“I am, Your Majesty,” Aethelbald said.

Fidel took hold of both Aethelbald’s hands and held them in a tremendous grip. “You are their Prince,” he cried. “You have saved my son!”

“Yes, Majesty. My faithful servant Dame Imraldera tends him even now. He has been grievously poisoned, but he will live.”

“Blessings, blessings on you, good Prince!”

Aethelbald kissed the king’s hand, then lifted him to his feet. “Now you must go,” he said. “The duke comes, and many good men will die needlessly to defend you if you stay. I am sending Sir Oeric and two more of my knights to guard you on your journey north. General Argus has made everything ready for your departure.”

“Yes.” Fidel nodded and straightened his shoulders, but he felt old and weak. “Yes, what you say is good. Aethelbald, my daughter . . . I saw her, saw what she has become – ”

What strength remained to the king seemed to flow out as he spoke. He sagged forward, and the Prince caught him.

“You were right,” Fidel breathed. “You were right all along, and I should have listened to you. I should have protected her.”

“Fidel.”

The king looked up. In the darkness he could just see the glint of Aethelbald’s eyes.

“Fidel,” the Prince said, “you could not have prevented this.”

“Don’t try to comfort me. I know my own guilt.”

“Yes,” the Prince said, “you are guilty. You made mistakes. But even so, you could not have prevented what happened.” He held the king upright, made him stand, and pushed back his shoulders. “Now you must go on. Lead your people. The duke will try to find you while you are yet weak. You must hide, and you must grow strong once more. Have courage, good king. Have hope. Your son is safe.”

“And my daughter?”

“Have hope,” Aethelbald repeated. He let go of the king and stepped back into the shadows. “I will find Una. Now go.”

The room was silent again, empty. Fidel went to the door to call his attendants. As he put his hand to the latch he heard the strangest sound, faintly, just beyond the din in the yard. It sounded like birdsong.

–––––––

Few people saw her pass. Una developed a dragon’s talent for traveling unnoticed. The burning never eased, but she gradually became accustomed to it until she did not notice it anymore. Her wounded neck healed into a rough scar in a matter of days.

She flew south, through Beauclair, through the Duchy of Milden, flying blindly. She did not eat or drink, for her fire burned and gave her strength without other sustenance.

Not until she crossed the borders of Shippening did she know the aim of her flight.

“Southlands is not far,” she told herself. “Only a few days more.”

She doubled her speed, tucking her knobby limbs close to her long body until she formed a long black ribbon from nose to tail, snaking through the sky.

The Red Desert loomed to the east, immense, dry, and hot. Una shuddered when she looked at it. It reminded her of the ocean, vast and unsearchable. Yet the ocean was full of life, while the desert was a landscape of death.

A world of dragons, she thought.



Closing her eyes to the sight, she flew on her way.



Gervais forgot me, but Leonard never will.



“Una, trust me,” he had said.



She would trust him. And she would find him.



–––––––

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