“I will always protect you,” he replied. “But that does not mean you will not know pain.” His eyes were tender and sad. “Will you let me kiss you?”
Without hesitation she nodded. He pressed his lips to her forehead, just as her father used to long ago. Only this was much softer and much stronger; the kiss itself was not only a gesture of affection but also a protection. Though she was tired and her limbs were weak as water, Rose Red felt a surge of courage at that kiss.
“I must return you now to the valley,” he said. “No matter what happens, child, do not forget what I have said. I will always protect you. Just as I have always done.”
She nodded. Bowing her head, she closed her eyes.
When Rose Red opened them again, the Prince was gone, and she lay amid the rubble of what had once been the Eldest’s Great Hall.
11
THE NEAR WORLD
FIVE WEEKS.
In the grand scheme of things, five weeks were nothing when compared to five years. But as far as Lionheart was concerned, they were the five longest weeks of his life.
Each day he spent at Oriana scrubbing its many floors, he resented. Even the nights spent entertaining the royal family, he grew to dread. For though they meant the pleasure of seeing Princess Una applauding his antics—and often a stolen conversation or two with the girl—they meant as well the sight of that dragon-eaten ring glittering on her hand.
The ring he needed.
But Lionheart couldn’t bear the idea of taking it from her. She liked him, he could tell. And he knew that he must be very much in love with her. Had he not fallen in love the moment he heard her laugh?
“And that’s not something to be shrugged off,” he muttered one day as he took a stroll down the garden path. He had finished his labors for the day and requested permission to practice his act for that night. He performed for King Fidel and his children at least three times a week and must have something new with which to entertain them each time. This required a certain amount of quiet and time to rehearse. Within the palace there were too many distractions, so he often took himself to the lower tiers of the garden, where it was unlikely he would bump into anyone.
On this day, his walk took him all the way to the bottom of the path, where the gardens ended suddenly at the edge of Goldstone Wood. Lionheart paused here, gazing into the long shadows cast by the trees. An enchanted wood, according to all the legends. Even Southlands had many a tale about Goldstone in the olden days.
With a glance to the right, to the left, and back up the path, Lionheart took the plunge into the Wood. It reminded him keenly of his boyhood days at Hill House. How long ago those seemed to him now! Bloodbiter’s Wrath and the Lake of Endless Blackness, and all the various games he’d played with Rose Red. Monster hunters were they, brave and bold.
He shivered. Those monsters were never supposed to be real.
“I’ve got to get that ring,” he muttered as his feet pursued a winding trail down into the forest. The trail was poorly marked, but Lionheart followed it as easily as he had once pursued the deer trails with Rose Red. “I’ve got to.”
He came to a bridge. Just a few old wooden planks spanning a small mountain stream. Momentarily he considered crossing over. But something stopped him. He couldn’t say what, exactly. Some sixth sense told him that it would be better to remain on this side, closer to the palace. After all, if he went too far, he might get lost.
He’d come all this way to practice, but for the moment he felt no desire to juggle or jig. Instead, he sat down with his back against an oak, watching the Wood beyond. The trees shifted in a summer wind, sending patterns of light and shadow skittering across the forest floor. The sight gave him a pang of longing for Hill House. For Southlands, for his family, and even, he realized, for Rose Red.
He buried his face in his hands, overwhelmed suddenly with the pain of homesickness. Perhaps he should have gone with the Prince of Farthestshore after all. Perhaps he should go even now, forget this wild goose chase.
Your dream!
“I hate dreams,” he growled.
Crackling footsteps drew his attention. He looked up and saw that someone was coming down the trail from the palace. Someone muttering to herself and so completely focused on her own thoughts that she paid no attention to her surroundings. It was Princess Una.
His heart leapt, not unpleasantly. Then he saw the ring gleaming on her hand, and his heart lurched again.
Take it! said the Lady.
“Dragons eat you,” he muttered.
The princess continued on her way, quite unaware of his presence, though she drew very near to him. He debated whether or not to call out to her, but then she was upon him, still hurrying, and kicked him.
“Ouch,” he said. “That was my foot.”
Princess Una screamed and clapped her hands to her face. Then she took a deep breath and cried, “Oh, Leonard! It’s you!”
Lionheart rubbed his foot, which smarted from her kick, and offered her a small smile.