Heartless (17 page)

“Why would he seem happy?” Nurse asked. “He was leaving his lady behind for who’s to say how long? And I told you, she’s got all the signs of long-suffering love about her. Perhaps she denied him, then thought better of it after he’d gone? Who else but Prince Aethelbald has been trying to woo her, I’d like to know?”

“Yes,” King Fidel murmured, “so would I.” He rose, his face dark with thought. “Thank you, Nurse, for your insights. Now, where is my daughter?”

Fidel found Una wandering in the gardens, dreamily gazing off into the clouds. She smiled when she saw her father. “Good afternoon, Father,” she said. “Isn’t it a beautiful world?”

“What’s this I hear about your betrothal?” Fidel demanded, preferring not to beat about the bush.

“I am not betrothed,” Una said. “I told the duke no.”

Fidel stood and inspected his daughter. She did not seem particularly altered to him. Perhaps there was some trace of what Nurse called “noble suffering” or some such nonsense, but he could’ve been imagining that. “You are not betrothed?” he asked. “The duke seemed convinced otherwise.”

Una blushed. “I cannot help what the duke thinks. You know that I cannot enter into a betrothal without your blessing.”

“And you know you will have it so long as the man of your choice knows better than to eat soup with his fingers and isn’t up to his ears in debt,” the king said. He looked deep into Una’s eyes, and she met his gaze only a few moments before turning away. “Una, what did you tell the duke to give him the impression that you are betrothed?”

“Nothing, I – ”

“Una?”

Her lip twitched and she sniffed. “I . . . I told him that my heart belongs to another. He asked what that had to do with marriage, and I said, ‘Everything,’ and sent him on his way.”

With this she burst into another one of her recent torrents of sobbing, which her father had not before witnessed. He could not recall the last time he’d seen Una cry and was entirely uncertain what to do about it.

“There, there, child,” he said, patting her shoulder. “There, there. It’s not as bad as all that. He will return soon, I have no doubt.”

“Do you think so?” Una asked, raising her tear-filled eyes. “How do you know?”

“He spoke to me before he set out, of course,” Fidel said, pleased to see how her face brightened. “He promised that he would return as soon as this whole dragon business is settled.”

“He did?” Una beamed like a blaze of sunshine through thick clouds. “Oh, Father, how perfectly wonderful!”

She flung her arms about his neck, and he patted her more comfortably. “I don’t know about perfectly,” he said. “You gave him a pretty harsh send-off, poor man.”

“What do you mean?” Una spoke into her father’s shoulder.

“Well, from what I gathered, he hadn’t much hope, but I am certain he will return even so, and all will be well. He gave his word.”

Una pulled back from his arms and looked quizzically up at him. “I promised that I would trust him, and I’ll wait for him until doomsday if necessary. How can that be a harsh send-off?”

Fidel frowned. “Perhaps he didn’t understand you aright? He was rather dejected when he spoke to me. But no fear. These little misunderstandings are soon cleared away. And I will be proud to have such a man for my son.” He laughed. “Anyone would be a blessing rather than the duke! But don’t let on that I said so.”

Una laughed as well and sniffed back more tears. “I am so glad you feel that way, Father, even if he is poor. But I just know he will succeed and regain his power! You will be proud, though not nearly so proud as I!”

Fidel’s frown returned. “One moment. Regain his power? He had not lost it, last I knew. What rumors have you been listening to, child?”

“I know only what he himself told me. I trust his word.”

“We are speaking of Prince Aethelbald, are we not?”

“Aethelbald?” Una blinked. “Aethelbald!” The corner of her mouth curled.

“If not, then whom have we just been discussing?” Fidel asked.

“Why, Prince Lionheart of Southlands, of course. Leonard, Father. The jester?”

15

King Fidel did not take kindly to this news.

Following the initial explosion, however, he agreed to listen to his daughter’s story and felt he did so with considerable grace.

“So you see,” Una concluded, “Leonard – I mean, Lionheart – couldn’t in all honesty approach you, could he, Father? He did the most right and most honorable thing that he knew.”

The heat of shock having abated somewhat, Fidel restricted his comment to a mere, “I should say he couldn’t approach me, wandering wastrel. We are fortunate he did not try to take money from you!”

Una reflected briefly on her mother’s ring, but passion boiled in her breast and she cried, “Father, must you assume him false? Has he done anything to merit distrust?”

“Yes, I’ll say he has! He’s gone and betrothed himself to my only daughter. A penniless jester, extracting promises from a princess!”

“We’re not betrothed!” Una flapped her hands in frustration. “He extracted no promises from me, but I freely gave my word to trust him.”

“To trust him blindly, without proof that he really is the supposed dead prince of a dragon-ridden kingdom?” Fidel pounded fist to palm. “Would that I had him before me – ”

“Yes, I trust him,” Una said. “And without proof! That’s what trust is, isn’t it? Believing without seeing?”

“Wrong,” her father growled. “That isn’t trust; that’s foolishness! If a man has to ask for your trust, it’s a sure sign you should not give it. Trust should be earned inherently, without any verbal demands. Trust is knowing a man’s character, knowing truth, and relying on that character and truth even when the odds seem against you.
That
is trust, my dear, not this leap in the dark for a man whose character you don’t – ”

“Perhaps I do!”

“Perhaps you
think
you do! Perhaps you don’t.”

Una’s eyes overflowed with tears. But these weren’t the passionate tears she’d been crying the last few days. These were steady, throbbing tears, hot on her face. She turned her back on her father.

Fidel sighed and placed his hands on her shoulders, but she shook them away. “Child,” the king said more gently, “if you had told me that you had promised to wait for Prince Aethelbald – ”

“I despise him!”

“Despise him or not, if you had told me that you promised to wait for him, I would rejoice. I know his character and trust his word and would be glad to see you trust him as well.”

“I trust Leonard – Lionheart.”

“You do not even know which is his true name.”

“I do!” Una shook her head sharply. “He is Lionheart! He’s been obliged to live in disguise, but that is no reason to distrust him. Sometimes people have to do things they do not want to do, such as hide their true names, hide their true selves. But I believe he is who he said he is.”

“Which one? The jester or the prince?”

“Both! He’s both, Father. I know he is, and I will trust him till I die!”

A heavy silence followed, and Fidel took the time to stifle his anger. After all, it was not Una’s neck he wished to strangle at the moment. When he spoke again, he managed to keep his voice gentle.

“Una, maybe this fantastic story of his is true. Maybe he will ride back on his white horse in triumph, a crown on his brow and a dragon’s head in his sack. Maybe he will prove himself a true prince someday, a worthy husband for my daughter.” Fidel took the princess by the shoulders, turning her to face him. He wiped a tear from her cheek. “But until then, Una, do not trust him. Let him prove himself trustworthy first. Please, Una, don’t give him your heart.”

She set her jaw, though the skin of her chin wrinkled in an effort to keep from trembling. “He loves me, Father. I just know it. That’s proof enough for me. I’ve given him my heart. I’ll wait for him.” The tears streamed silently down her face, dampening her collar, but her voice was steady. “I’ll wait for him, and I’ll not have another.”

Fidel shook his head and drew his daughter close. “Then I can only pray he will prove worthy.”

–––––––

Days passed, each a small eternity.

But the nights were worse.

Una woke every morning feeling as though she had scarcely slept at all and dreading even the smallest daily activities. Sometimes now she remembered snatches of her dreams, but even those memories faded after a day or two. All that remained was the heaviness, the exhaustion, and behind that a deep, nagging worry.

Few things changed over those months. Felix had his fourteenth birthday celebrated with much pomp. Monster had a less official birthday, celebrated with less pomp. Una saw and declined two more suitors, neither of whom left lasting impressions on her mind. Hours were forever, and she not once received word of her jester-prince. He did not so much as appear in her dreams.

Until one cold night, just at the onset of winter.

Una lay wrapped in quilts, holding still because the less she moved, the warmer she kept. Monster was burrowed somewhere deep, a furry lump at her feet, as near to the bed warmer as he could safely sleep. His purr had long since worn out, and silence held her room in a frosty grip.

She pretended she slept but couldn’t fool herself. Her nose was frozen, but Una was too tired and too cold to lift the blankets to cover it, so she pretended it wasn’t cold and failed at that as well. She wondered if the faerie-tale princesses who fell into enchanted sleeps felt like this as they lay for a hundred years, frozen in time. How boring it must be for them after a decade or two. Truly it must be –

An image flashed through her mind.

Quickly as that, the dream came and went. A face of white bone surrounded by black hair, lying upon a golden altar, frozen and still with sleep. Suddenly its eyes were open, filled with fire and gazing at her, burning to her core. As though from a great distance, she heard Leonard’s voice, or perhaps a mere memory of his voice.

“It’s yours! Take it!”

She gasped; her eyes flew open.

Even as she stared up at the familiar embroidered faces of the sun and the moon on her canopy, the vision hung suspended in her mind’s eye, the sound of Leonard’s voice filled her ears.

It was a dream. Nothing but a dream,
she told herself.

She sat up, hugging her knees to her chest, and took several long breaths. As she breathed, she became aware of the burning in her hands.

This time, the burns did not go away. When at last her maid came in to stoke up her fire an hour before dawn, Una still lay awake in her bed, grimacing in pain. The burns weren’t severe enough for her to demand an apothecary’s attentions, but they hurt even so. Nurse clucked when she saw them and concocted a soothing ointment, which she spread on Una’s fingers, then made the princess put on a pair of kid gloves to help it soak in. Una obeyed willingly enough, but when she removed the gloves later that afternoon, the burns were as red as before.

“What did you do to yourself, Miss Princess?” Nurse demanded, inspecting them and clucking still more. “Were you grabbing the fire irons in the night? You know you’re supposed to let the maid do her work; that’s why you’ve got a bell to summon her with!”

Una did not try to explain. She did not understand herself. Instead she gratefully accepted the excuse not to embroider and went to sit quietly in her window. Monster placed himself in her lap and started grooming with all the care of a dandy. Absently, Una rubbed behind his ears. His silky fur felt pleasant against the burns.

“Curious, isn’t it, Monster,” she whispered as she looked out across the gardens, on down to the Wood. “Curious how time works. How can a day be so much longer than a month?”

Monster twisted his ears without much interest and switched to washing his other paw.

“Where is he now, I wonder?” she whispered, stroking her cat’s back. Monster started to purr and raised his haunches to welcome a scratch. “You don’t suppose he has forgotten me, do you?”

Monster stated an opinion.

“Yes, well, ‘meow’ is little comfort,” Una said and tousled his ears. “I suppose I can’t expect anything, though. He said he would not be able to contact me. I wonder, how long does it take to slay a dragon? I wonder if he’ll be hurt.”

“Mreeow
,”
Monster said.

“Oh, don’t say that! No, he will be fine, I know it. He has learned much about dragons, you know, in the Far East. He will be fine, and he will be back by spring.”

“Mreeeow?”

“I just know it, that’s all.”

“What are you talking about to yourself?” Nurse demanded, entering the room with a basket of mending. She was generally disposed to be short with Una these days. Although Una had ceased her random fits of sobbing long ago, Nurse still disliked the mysterious bubble surrounding the princess that she was not permitted to puncture.

“I wasn’t talking to myself,” Una said. “I was talking to Monster.”

“Stop that nonsense and come talk to me instead. I’ll at least listen to you!” Nurse settled into her chair and raised her eyebrows at Una. “Well, Miss Princess?”

“Don’t call me Miss Princess,” Una said. “You only call me Miss Princess when you’re mad at me, and I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Heaven help us, if we aren’t persnickety this afternoon!” Nurse cried. She pulled a long stocking with a hole in the toe from her basket. “Can’t even use a nickname without offending these days . . . Where are you going? It’s too late to go out walking – you hear me?”

Una did not. She’d grabbed her cloak and made a swift exit. Monster trotted after her down the stairs, trilling loudly at her ankles, but she refused to let him follow her outside. Shutting the door in his nose, she ran lightly out into the garden and down to her forest.

The evening was bitter, promising a night as cold as the last. The trees cast long and longer shadows, but a bit of orange sunlight still dappled the forest floor. Una had taken to coming out to the Old Bridge nearly every day, weather permitting. It was a sweet, solitary spot where she could sit alone with her memories. She liked to recall her first meeting with the jester, when he landed on her after sneaking over the wall, a memory that always brought a smile to her face. Who would have believed that garish lunatic would, only weeks later, steal her heart so completely? This thought made her laugh as well, but always with tears behind the laughter.

Una pulled her cloak tight about herself as she stepped onto the Old Bridge. She sat down and dangled her feet over the edge but did not touch the icy water. A brisk wind blew winter smells of wet leaves and cold earth and perhaps of coming snow into her face. She closed her eyes and, leaning back on her hands and lifting her chin into the wind, let herself dream.

“Hello, Una.”

She looked over her shoulder. “My jester!” She leapt up, stumbling over her cloak. There he stood on the far side of the bridge, his foolish, bell-covered hat in his hand and his hair standing all on end. “You’re back!”

“I could stay away no longer.” He dropped the hat and held out both arms. “Will you come to me, Una? Now?”

She ran two steps forward, her footsteps echoing under the bridge. But she paused. “Lionheart,” she said. “My prince, have you killed the Dragon?”

His arms dropped loosely to his sides. “No,” he said. “No, m’lady, I am not yet a prince. I remain only your jester.” He turned, and shadows from the trees crept over him. “I know you cannot love me, only a jester.”

“Wait!” she called. “Leonard, come back! I do love you just as you are. You don’t have to slay a dragon. You don’t have to be a prince!”

“No,” he said, stepping back into the darkness. “No, you cannot love only a – ”

“My love, come back!”

She tried to run but fell.

She woke up.

Her breath came quickly. She closed her eyes and bowed her head. Sometimes the dreams were so cruelly real.

“Oh, Leonard,” she whispered, “why don’t you return?”

The orange glow of sun was almost gone, and the grays of twilight settled heavily around her. She rose to go, stepping off the bridge into the crunch of leaves and twigs on the path.

“Hello, Una.”

She spun around and screamed.

On the far side of the bridge stood the Dragon.