“Why, Majesty,” the duke cried, “I haven’t been so amused in years! Is he hired on to you long term? If not—”
That was all Lionheart heard before the door shut, and even that much scarcely registered in his mind. What had he done? Gone and ruined his chances here in Oriana, that’s what. A Fool? Try idiot, instead! He’d never get the ring now. He’d never return to Southlands. He’d never—
Someone was coming up behind him. He cast a glance back and realized that Princess Una followed him, though her head was down and she did not see him. Sudden resolve fixed itself in Lionheart’s breast. It was now or never.
He stepped back, took her by the arm, and hastily towed her into a side corridor. Taking her by both arms, he made her face him, and suddenly found that he had no words.
The princess stared up at him. Then her face sank into an angry scowl. “What do you think you’re doing?” she cried, pushing him away.
Lionheart could hardly think what to say as her words spilled out in an angry rush. At last he managed in a thick voice, as though he might choke on his own words, “You can’t marry that lout.”
“I don’t intend to marry that lout!” she growled back. “I have no intention of marrying anyone, not that it is any of your business!”
“M’lady—”
“You’ve gone and gotten yourself discharged, you fool!”
“No!” Lionheart took Una’s hands and pulled them away from her face. But she turned away, and there were tears on her cheek. He felt like a fiend to have made her cry. “M’lady,” he said, “look at me. Please. I’m not a Fool.”
“I don’t know what else you call a commoner who insults a royal guest and gets himself—”
“No, Una,” Lionheart said. He squeezed her hands in his. “I am not a Fool, not a jester. I am Prince Lionheart of Southlands.”
12
SOUTHLANDS
ROSE RED SAT UP, blinking slowly as she looked about at the destruction. At first, she did not recognize where she was. Then understanding came to her. The Eldest’s Great Hall, torn to pieces, chunks of its walls and floor smoking and melted. The Dragon had done his work thoroughly.
As Rose Red got to her feet, swaying at first, she realized something more. True, the hall lay in ruins, and smoke still swirled heavily in the air. But that thick smell of poison was fading already.
The Dragon was gone.
“Bah!”
Rose Red turned and saw her nanny coming toward her, climbing through the rubble like the nimble mountain goat she was. For a moment, the memory of a tall woman bearing a silver lantern flashed across Rose Red’s mind, but she shook that away. “Beana!” she cried, stumbled over a few broken stones, and wrapped her arms around the goat’s shaggy neck. “Beana, you’re alive!”
“That I am, girl,” said the goat. Then she bleated again and nuzzled Rose Red’s cheek. “Brave child!”
“Not really,” Rose Red said, speaking into Beana’s coarse coat. “I . . . Beana, I almost let him—”
“So would we all,” said the goat. “There is only one who can stand up to that Monster in the end. Our strength must always give out at last, but his never will. You called him, just as you were supposed to, and all is well now. My brave child!”
Rose Red squeezed Beana one more time, then sat back. “Where’s m’lady?”
She found Daylily half buried beneath rubble but unharmed. At first Rose Red thought she was unconscious, but Daylily was merely in a daze, as though she were mentally working through some complex problem, not newly rescued from Death’s own doorstep. Rose Red helped her gently to her feet and shook her a little, saying, “M’lady, are you all right?”
Daylily blinked slowly at Rose Red. “You rescued me.”
“Not me,” Rose Red said. “It was the Prince what saved us. He sent the Dragon away.”
Daylily closed her eyes and smiled. Only it was more of a sneer. “The prince left us long ago,” she said, then went so quiet that Rose Red wondered if she had fainted while still upright.
“Best get her inside, out of this smoke,” Beana said. “This way.”
With the goat leading, Rose Red helped the baron’s daughter across the ruins to a side door that led into the undamaged passages of the Eldest’s House. As they went, she saw how changed everything was. The weird half-light was gone, replaced by murky but ordinary daylight. No more sensation of walking in two worlds at once. The Dragon had fled Southlands and released the palace back into its own realm, where it belonged.
Rose Red could have wept with relief.
“It’s been five years, Rosie,” Beana told her as they went.
“What?”
“Five years on the outside. At least! You vanished inside, and I waited five years until the way was opened for me to follow.”
Rose Red’s mind hurt at this notion. It had not seemed so long. What could have happened to Prince Lionheart during all that time?