Lionheart felt a heavy stone drop in his stomach. He knew of what the Prince wished to speak with him. Had Aethelbald not been one of Una’s suitors? He hid a grimace by coughing but in that extra moment could think of no excuse to deny Aethelbald his request. “Very well,” he said. He bowed to his father. “If you will excuse me, Father?”
Hawkeye nodded, and Lionheart withdrew, beckoning for Aethelbald to follow him. Two of Lionheart’s attendants stepped into line behind them, but as Lionheart opened the door to a smaller audience room, he bade them to stay outside. He made room for Aethelbald to precede him into the room, walked in behind him, and shut the door. They stood in an antechamber of impressive size, with various maps adorning the walls and heavy curtains on the windows. They were new curtains; the old ones had reeked of dragon smoke.
Lionheart took a seat on a large chair, almost a small throne, on the far side of the room. He did not offer a seat to Aethelbald. “At your pleasure,” he said.
Aethelbald stood in the middle of the floor, his arms crossed over his chest, not in a hostile manner but as though he didn’t know what else to do with them. The effect was almost awkward, but he looked Lionheart steadily in the eye. “Have you seen Princess Una?”
Lionheart gulped. Something in him did not like the directness of the question, and he did not wish to answer. Perhaps it was Aethelbald’s quiet tone, firm and nonthreatening, that set his teeth on edge. “Princess Una of Parumvir?”
“The same.”
He shrugged and kept his gaze steady against Aethelbald’s. “What makes you think I would have seen her?”
“You have heard of the situation in Parumvir?”
“Yes. Dragon-ridden. And the capital is controlled by the Duke of Shippening now, is that right? A great pity. I liked King Fidel. He was kind to me during my . . . my exile.” Lionheart drew a long breath. “But that is all far from here, and I have much to occupy my mind in my own kingdom.”
“Una is missing.”
Lionheart raised an eyebrow. Even mention of the girl’s name made his heart beat uncomfortably. His hands and part of his face still burned from his encounter with her. “So I understand,” he said.
“She fell in love with you.” Aethelbald hardly moved as he spoke, and his gaze did not shift.
Lionheart found himself wanting very badly to look away. “What makes you think that?” he answered, trying to look incredulous.
“I guessed.”
“Well, if it bothers you, I have no intention of – ”
“Answer my question,” Aethelbald said. “Have you seen Princess Una?”
Lionheart could not hold his gaze a moment longer. He looked down at his fist resting on the arm of the chair. “Yes, I have. She came here not even a week ago, alone.”
Aethelbald was silent.
Lionheart fought the urge to squirm in his chair and managed to maintain his cool tone. “At first I wondered how she had come here by herself. But . . . she explained in no uncertain terms.”
“She came to you as a woman?”
“Yes. But I saw the change.”
Aethelbald did not reply. The silence was so long that Lionheart at last looked up and saw that the Prince was turned away, his head bent.
“See here,” Lionheart said, clenching and unclenching his fist. “I am sorry about what became of her. I am. But there isn’t a solitary thing I can do about it now, is there?”
Aethelbald did not speak.
“A lot of things happened during my exile.” Lionheart grimaced. “Most of them I wish to forget. Una was kind to me when I needed a friend, and . . . and I appreciated her kindness. Perhaps I implied more than I felt, but that is hardly – ”
“Did you?” Aethelbald asked.
Lionheart took in a deep breath. No reproach lurked in the Prince’s tone; he merely asked the question. Lionheart thought for a moment that he hated the Prince of Farthestshore.
“There was too much . . . simply too much to do when I came back,” Lionheart said. “I couldn’t very well leave, could I, when my people needed me here? Not all of us are free to go chasing across the countryside after dreams or monsters, Prince Aethelbald. Some of us have responsibilities that must come before our own desires.”
“And there was your bargain to consider,” Aethelbald said, nodding. Lionheart opened his mouth, then shut it again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered at last.
“But you do, Prince Lionheart,” Aethelbald said. To Lionheart’s deep disgust, the expression on his face was not condemning but pitying. “I know the Dragon better than you think. I know the game he plays and the bargains he drives.”
Lionheart stood and crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s none of your concern, Prince Aethelbald.”
“In that case, let me bid you good day,” Aethelbald said and started to turn away.
“What do you propose to do now?”
Aethelbald paused. “I journey to the Red Desert.”
“Are you mad?” Lionheart shook his head, then took another look at Aethelbald’s face. “You are mad, but I see that you’re serious.” He sighed. “Do not think that I am unconcerned about all of this, Prince Aethelbald. If there is anything I can do to aid you in your quest, please accept my help.”