“Come with me,” said the Prince. His eyes were endlessly deep, and they bored into Lionheart’s. Lionheart turned away. “Come with me, back to your kingdom. Together we can face the Dragon.”
A raging desire to drop that wretched jester’s hat and kick it to the moon filled Lionheart. To kick it all to the moon and follow this Prince back to his homeland. To finally, after all these long years, face the monster and reclaim his kingdom.
No! The Lady clutched at his mind. Don’t forget your dream! How will you fulfill your dream if you depend on this man? You must save Southlands. You, and you alone. Take the ring, as I told you, and you will learn how to rid Southlands of my brother’s presence once and for all.
Her voice was like daggers inside him. It pained him even to consider disobeying.
Take the ring, and don’t listen to this man!
The Prince of Farthestshore extended his hand and spoke gently. “Come with me, prince. Now is the time.”
Don’t forget your dream. He is trying to take it from you!
Lionheart shook his head and continued backing away into the shadows. “No,” he said. “I . . . I don’t know what you’re talking about. I am no prince. I am a humble jester. Do . . . do what you think you must, Your Highness, but I’ll have no part of it.”
The cat spat at him, its ears pinned back. “Peace,” said the Prince, and the creature subsided. Then he spoke to Lionheart one last time. “It is your choice to make,” he said. “You do not have to obey the one who haunts your dreams. Come with me.”
Lionheart clutched the jester’s hat tightly in both fists. “No!” he said.
Then he was running up the path, the same way Princess Una had run. He felt as though the Lady herself pursued at his heels, her voice filling his senses.
Remember your dream.
10
THE NETHERWORLD
THE GOAT FELT all the Dragon’s powers seeking to drive her back. But his barriers had fallen the moment Rose Red sang the song on the Dark Water. Let him do his worst; there would be no keeping Beana from her charge now!
She barreled through the door and stopped a moment in the front hall, turning this way and that, her keen yellow eyes taking in more than what was readily apparent. She saw how much the Eldest’s House had slipped into the Netherworld. She saw the Dragon’s poisons climbing like ivy up the walls.
“Bah!” she bleated and trotted across the hall floor, her sharp hooves clattering on the marble. She followed her nose, followed the strongest of the awful stenches, and it took her to the doorway that should lead to a servants’ stair but didn’t.
Here she paused and dropped all traces of her goat disguise. “May my heart beat with courage,” she whispered in song and in prayer. Then, bracing herself, she stepped through the portal into the darkness of Death’s Path.
But the Path held no fear for her. The lady knight immediately recognized it for what it was. Although it passed through his domain, this Path did not belong to the Dragon. It belonged to her Master, and she could walk it with ease.
Her heart rose in her breast as she made long strides down into the darkness. One would have thought from the look on her face that she soared on eagle’s wings. Following the silver light of the lantern, she hastened to the grave of the Brothers Ashiun and knelt a moment in respect to their memory. When she took the lantern from the stone, it yet remained in place to guide future travelers. Such was the power of that light.
The Asha Lantern’s beam sliced through the half-light and gloom, across the far reaches of the Netherworld. The Wolf Lord did not try to cross her. The Dragonwitch trembled and hid her face. The Black Dogs turned tail and fled, dragging their Midnight behind them. The lady knight hastened down into Death’s world.
She had passed this way before. This time she was not afraid.
The veil fell away and lay at Rose Red’s feet. She looked into her own face, reflected back at her in startling clarity.
It was a face of unreal beauty.
Wide silver eyes set in a skin like warm gold. Thick black hair with glints of red fell in a tumble down below her shoulders, curling gently about a slender neck. Her lips were full and red. Her cheekbones were fine and distinct.
But above all, she glowed with a life that was more than life, which shone from every fiber of her being. Hers was a beauty beyond that of mortals. The words of the man she called father returned to her:
“My Rose Red, you are a Faerie child. Born different from everyone else, and that’s why you look the way you do.”
“Faerie child,” she whispered.