The duke opened his mouth, thought twice, and closed it. His face went red with impotent wrath.
The Dragon turned to Lionheart again. “You were to be the key to the princess’s undoing. But she wasn’t the one I sought!” He lunged. His hands went about Lionheart’s neck, and his eyes burned the skin on Lionheart’s face. “Where is she? Where is the Beloved of my Enemy? All the signs told me that you were the key, but the little goblin withstood me. So where is my rightful prey?”
Lionheart couldn’t speak. He felt the life flowing from him, and for the moment, he did not care. Death would be better than this current existence, this fire in his veins that melted him from the inside out.
“Where is she?” the Dragon roared.
Suddenly the Lady was there. The ice of her coming was more painful than the fire, but she broke the Dragon’s hold and stepped between him and the fainting prince. Even the duke screamed at the sight of her, and his men fell to their knees and hid their faces.
“What is going on here?” she demanded.
“You should have let me have him,” the Dragon snarled. “He was supposed to be the key. If I’d had him, I could have convinced her to take my kiss.”
“You were never going to convince her,” his sister said. “You never won her in our game.”
“If not her, then whom?”
The Lady smiled. “Ask the prince what he has in his hand.”
The Dragon’s eyes narrowed to fiery slits. “Why?”
“Ask him and see.”
The Dragon turned on Lionheart, who had slumped to his side and lay with his knees curled up to his face. He could hardly breathe, the poison was so great. He closed his eyes, desperate not to see those looming specters.
“What do you have in your hand?”
Lionheart’s fist tightened. No! They could take everything else. They could take his kingdom, his family, his identity. They could take his life. But Lumé help him, they would not take Una’s ring! He’d worked too long and too hard. It was the key to the Dragon’s undoing. It must be! The oracle had said . . .
“Lionheart, my darling,” said the Lady, kneeling down beside him. “Show my brother what you hold.”
He looked up into her terrible, empty eyes. “You . . . you said—”
“I said I would show you how to deliver Southlands from the Dragon. This is the only way. Show him what you have.”
Closing his eyes, Lionheart uncurled his fingers.
The Dragon roared. “He holds the heart of a princess!”
“Not just any princess, my brother,” said the Lady, turning to the Dragon once more. “That is the heart of Princess Una, Beloved of the Prince of Farthestshore. Your Enemy.”
The Dragon’s cloak billowed back in a sudden blast of heat. Lionheart screamed and closed his hand around Una’s ring once more. He saw black wings and a great black body rising above him, towering as great as a mountain, and he thought he would melt in the heat. Red eyes filled his vision, and he looked once more into the face of Death.
“Give me her heart, Prince Lionheart,” said the Dragon. The duke and his men fled, leaving Lionheart alone before the monster. “Give me her heart, and I will let you live.”
“No!” Lionheart cried, raising his hands to shield his face from the heat, Una’s ring still clutched in one of them.
The Dragon laughed, a terrible sound as hot as the flames flickering between his teeth. “Your life for her heart. That’s the best I can offer you.” The two red eyes lowered, and the awful mouth hovered just above the prince so that he thought he would be devoured then and there. He huddled down, helpless and quivering in the shadow of the beast.
The Lady was at his ear, speaking eagerly. “You must choose! Choose your dream!”
“It is an easy enough exchange,” said the Dragon. “Then you may return to Southlands, reclaim your crown, rule your people. Only give me the heart of this princess, your love.”
“No!” He could not hear his own voice.
“I will eat you now, little prince. And I will return to Southlands and burn it to ash. I will swallow your homeland in one mouthful and still be hungry for more! Only you can prevent it, Lionheart. Not by killing me. You cannot kill me. No sword you can wield will ever pierce my skin, little man! So save yourself and save your people, and give me the heart of this Una, for I have greater need of it than you do.”
Lionheart thought the flesh would melt from his bones. Poison filled his soul.
“Choose your dream,” urged the Lady. “Give my brother the girl’s heart, for he played the game with me and won, and he must have it now. Give it to him!”
“Give it to me!”
Lionheart, lying on his face, his arms flung out before him, slowly opened his fist.
The ring rolled from his grasp and lay upon the stone ground.
“It’s yours,” he whispered. “Take it!”
The fire went.
The terror vanished.
Lionheart lay at the foot of Goldstone Hill, on the edge of the dark forest. He was alone.
Utterly alone.
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