He grabbed her hand, and she kept the other tucked out of sight as he drew her aside, elbowing his way through the crowd, which did not recognize him and which was only too glad to get away from the pale, foreign girl. Lionheart half sheltered her with his cloak, as though trying to hide her from prying eyes, or perhaps to protect those eyes from seeing her. He brought Una through the worst of the crowds, then pulled her down a narrow side street where few people walked. He took another turn and another. Neither tried to speak; both moved as quickly as they could.
They came at last to the outskirts of the city, where few houses stood and a trickle of a drainage stream flowed quietly under an unguarded footbridge. At the bridge, Lionheart halted and let Una go. He threw back his hood so that she could see his stern face. His hair stood all on end, just as she remembered.
“Where is your father?” he demanded.
“I do not know.”
“You are come alone, then? How did you get here? Why was I not given advance notice of your coming?”
“No one knows,” she said.
Prince Lionheart shook his head. “You can’t do that. You’re a princess.
You can’t travel all the way from Parumvir to Southlands by yourself!”
“But I did.”
He stared at her, studying her face. “What has become of you, Una?” he asked, and she could hear fear lying just beneath the surface of his voice.
“I could ask the same,” she whispered.
“No, I mean it,” Lionheart said, shifting on his feet. “There is something odd about your face, something not – ”
“Again, I could say the same,” Una replied, and a tiny smile lifted a corner of her mouth. “That beard . . .” She reached out a hand to his face, but he caught it and pushed it away.
“This is no time for jokes,” he said.
Una drew back and wrapped her arms about herself, still keeping the scale-covered hand hidden. “Then it is true,” she said. “You have killed him.”
“Killed whom?”
“My jester.”
He stared down at her a long moment, a number of dark expressions sliding across his face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.
“Oh, Leonard!” She tried to touch his arm, but he turned away and stepped back.
“I’m not Leonard, Princess Una,” he said. “I thought I told you that.”
“Where did you go?”
He raised an eyebrow and refused to meet her gaze. “Here, obviously. Back to Southlands.”
She shook her head. “You know what I mean.”
“I don’t!” he snapped. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I’m not sure you do either. You aren’t speaking rationally.”
“Leonard – ”
“That is not my name, and I wish you wouldn’t use it!” He pinched the bridge of his nose, frowning. “I did exactly what I told you, went exactly where I said I would, back . . . How long ago was that? Many months! I left your home and traveled directly down here, just as I had purposed while enjoying your father’s hospitality.”
“And you fought the Dragon? Killed him, even?” Una stepped closer to him and reached out again to touch his hand, but he pulled away, tucked his hands under his arms, and leaned against the bridge railing. She forged ahead. “Please tell me, my prince. Tell me how it happened.”
“The Dragon was gone by the time I arrived,” he said, “leaving my kingdom in ashes, my people rendered near helpless with fear, my father near crazy with sorrow.”
“You never saw the Dragon?”
The prince still would not meet her gaze. “Don’t think it’s been easy. I maybe didn’t fight a monster, but the work I’ve had to do, the blood, sweat, and tears I’ve poured into rebuilding my people, and will have to keep pouring out for years to come before we’ll ever reach our former – ”
“You never saw the Dragon?”
“Aren’t you listening to me? It was gone by the time I got here.”
“That’s not what he said.”
“What?”
“He said you made an agreement, that he wouldn’t kill you and would let you return home if . . . if what? What was your side of the bargain?”
“Una, your voice . . .” He stared down at her, and fear raced across his face, but he hid it the next instant. “What are you saying? Of whom are you speaking?”
“You know whom I mean.” Una stepped close and grabbed his arm with both her hands, but he yelped and shook her off.
“You burn!” he said. “Una, are you ill?”
She pulled her hands close to her sides, her fists clenched. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I am. What was your side of the bargain, Lionheart? When the Dragon agreed not to kill you?”
“You’re babbling nonsense,” he growled. “I’ve made no bargains with anyone. I came here, just as I told you. Why don’t you listen?”
“No bargains?” Una spoke to the boards of the bridge. “What about the bargain you made with me?”
Lionheart did not answer. The drainage stream trickled underneath them laboriously, as though any moment it would dry up altogether.
“You asked me to trust you,” Una said. Her voice quavered, but no tears came to her eyes. “You asked me to trust you, Lionheart.”
“I shouldn’t have said that,” he said. “I must have forgotten. But I should never have said that or anything of the kind to you.” He rubbed a hand down his face and shook his head. “And your ring, the one you so generously lent me. I’d almost forgotten that as well. I will pay you back for it, I promise.”
Dirty promises!