But he said with the frivolity of a jester, “Comparable to a half dozen at least.”
He turned from Una to hide the fury that gathered in his face and strode down to the plank bridge. He did not step onto it but climbed down the bank to the rocks alongside the stream instead, collecting pebbles.
Princess Una walked out onto the bridge and took a seat halfway across, dangling her dainty feet over the edge. Lionheart, always a gentleman, made a point not to look at her slim ankles peeking out beneath her skirt. “Have you ever,” the princess asked, far more melancholy than he remembered hearing her before, “dreamed of one thing for so long, wanted nothing more than to have that dream fulfilled, only to find out that maybe it wasn’t what you actually wanted all along?”
Lionheart found a few pebbles he liked and started juggling them. “I believe that’s called growing up.”
“But then,” the princess continued, “you find yourself lost without your dream. Like half your heart is gone right along with it.”
She twisted the opal ring on her finger. It caught Lionheart’s eyes, though he tried not to look at it.
Your dream, said the Lady. Take the ring!
Lionheart tossed his juggling stones into the stream, perhaps with more vehemence than necessary. Then he spoke loudly, drowning out the Lady’s voice. “Dreams are tricky business, m’lady. It’s best to hold on to what you know, not what you want. Know your duty, know your path, and do everything you can to achieve what you have set out to do. Don’t let dreams get in your way. Dreams will never accomplish the work of firm resolve.”
Fine words, my sweet prince, said the Lady. Now take what you need!
Princess Una’s eyes were very wide as she gazed at him, wisps of loose hair falling about her face. She was so delicate, so young. He could overpower her in a moment. “What have you resolved, Leonard, that you won’t stop for dreams?”
He turned to stare out at the water flowing on down Goldstone Hill.
You could have it and be off in a moment. She cannot stop you.
“I am resolved,” he said hoarsely, “to return home as soon as I may.”
“Home? You mean Southlands?”
Kneeling to pick up another stone to check its weight, he nodded.
“Is it far away?” asked the princess.
“Very far, m’lady.”
A long journey indeed, my sweet, and pointless without what you need. You asked, and I told you how you may deliver Southlands from the Dragon’s hold. What good will that knowledge do you if you don’t act upon it?
“Is it true, Leonard?” the princess asked softly. “Is it true what they say about . . . about your homeland?”
Lionheart swallowed. He tossed the new stone into the middle of the stream, still afraid to look at her, to look at that ring. “Maybe, maybe not. I don’t know what they say.”
“Did you escape before the rest of Southlands was imprisoned?”
Lionheart closed his eyes and took a deep breath before casting her a quick sidelong glance. “Does it really matter how or when I escaped, if escaped we must call it? I am here; my people are there. My friends. My family. So I will return.”
“Can you do anything, though?” asked the princess. “Not in five years has anyone succeeded in crossing to Southlands alive. Don’t you think you should stay away for now? What could you do by returning anyway?”
Lionheart felt her words like weights upon his shoulders. What could he do? Especially if he hadn’t the courage to take from her what he required. In that moment, he hated himself.
But he hated the Lady more.
“Princess Una,” he said, keeping his voice steady with an effort, “you are young and sweet. You can’t know about such things. I may be only a Fool, but even a Fool must see his duty, and when he sees it, he must follow through. What else can he do and still consider himself a man? Perhaps I cannot help my people. Perhaps I will live long enough to see their destruction and then perish in the same fire. But nevertheless I will go.” He turned away from her and kicked another stone into the passing water. “As soon as I can put together funds enough for the journey.”
The princess regarded him quietly. She smiled a little. “Then I think you are a very brave Fool.”
“If I were not a Fool, do you think I could be brave?”
He looked at her then, deep into those wide eyes of hers. How guileless she was, he thought. How unlike any girl he had ever met before, except . . . except Rose Red.
Rose Red, back when they were both children, and she did not know he was a prince. His one true friend, unconcerned with societal dictums. But that had all changed, of course, as soon as Rose Red learned the truth. And besides, she was nothing more than a mountain girl.
This girl was a princess and his equal. She did not know this, of course, and yet . . . and yet she talked to him as though they were on the same footing. She talked to Lionheart like a friend.