Moonblood (Tales of Goldstone Wood Book #3) (4 page)

You will be king, sweet prince,
spoke the cold voice in Lionheart’s head. For an instant, he saw white eyes before his own.
I have promised you your dream, and your dream you will have.

The vision vanished, and Lionheart found himself eye to eye with Baron Middlecrescent. He quickly dropped his gaze. The baron always reminded him of a cross between a fish and a bulldog, all staring eyes and jaw. Thank the Lights Above, Daylily didn’t take after him!

“Did he fight the Dragon?”

Lionheart ground his teeth and pinched the bridge of his nose. The talk in the banquet hall whirled in his head, a hurricane of babble, but all he could discern was that one phrase, again and again. He thought he would suffocate.

“My son.” King Hawkeye’s voice was as tremulous as a man of eighty’s, though he had not yet reached his sixtieth year. The Dragon’s poison had aged him far before his time. But he placed a thin-skinned hand on Lionheart’s shoulder. “My son, are you unwell?”

Lionheart turned to his father. So many words rushed to his mouth, words he longed to speak. “I did what I could, Father!” he wanted to cry out. “I ensured Southlands’ safety! Perhaps I did not fight the Dragon. Perhaps I did not slay him. But who can face such a monster? Is it cowardly of me that I could not do what no man has done before me? I did all that was within my power, and I made certain he would never return. Don’t think it cost me nothing! I gave up that which was most dear to me; I gave him the heart of my love in exchange for safety. Was that an easy price?”

But the words died upon his tongue. Instead he said, “The excitement. It’s been a long day.”

Hawkeye smiled the ghost of a smile. “You need a dance with your lady to cheer you, lad. What say you, Daylily?”

For the first time during the banquet, Daylily turned her brilliant smile Lionheart’s way. Yet it was to the Eldest she addressed herself. “What would you have of me, dear Majesty?”

“A dance.”

“With pleasure.”

“No, no, not for me! My dancing days have passed. But for this son of mine whom you seem inclined to wed at the week’s end. Dance with him for me, will you?”

At last Daylily looked at Lionheart. Her smile never altered, but he saw the veil that fell across her eyes as clearly as Rose Red’s linen covering. “I will gladly dance with my prince,” she said through that smile.

He rose and bowed over her hand, then led her to the floor. The Eldest gave the signal; the court musicians hastily took up their instruments and struck a tune. Lionheart took Daylily in his arms. She was as soft and supple as granite, but she moved with expert grace, refusing to meet his eyes.

They danced a few measures, Daylily’s long skirts shushing softly across the floor, the train of her headdress floating lightly behind her. One of the musicians began to sing:

“Oh, Gleamdren Fair, I love thee true,

Be the moon waxed full or new!

In all my world-enscoping view

There shineth none so bright as you.”

Lionheart groaned.

“Something amiss?” asked his lady.

“This song.” He stopped dancing, not caring that all the court looked down on them in surprise. “I hate this song.”

Her masklike face altered into the most subtle of frowns. “It is a song of Eanrin, Chief Poet of Rudiobus.”

“I know,” said the prince. “Believe me, I know.”

“It is the most renowned of all his ballads.” Her voice was as cold as a winter morning before sunrise, contrasting with the brilliance of her smile.

“I won’t dance to it,” said Lionheart. “It’s the worst verse ever written, and that’s saying a great deal for Bard Eanrin.” He started to go, but her hand suddenly tightened.

“Don’t leave me, Lionheart,” Daylily hissed. “Don’t leave me standing here.”

“I won’t,” said he. “You can return to the table with me until the musicians learn to play something bearable.”

“You cannot insult me like this. In front of the whole court.” No one watching them could have guessed at her words from the expression on her face. “You cannot.”

“It’s not an insult if you walk with me.”

“I will not.”

“There we are, then.”

“Dance with me, Lionheart,” said Daylily. “Or—”

“Or what? You’ll threaten me?” He shook his head and dropped her hand. “I’m not playing your games.”

With those words he turned and strode away. The singer faltered, but the musicians kept playing. Lionheart approached the table, meeting first the gaze of his father, then that of Baron Middlecrescent. The baron looked like thunder. Lionheart sank into his seat beside his father and took a deep gulp from his goblet.

“Lover’s quarrel?” asked Hawkeye.

“I hate that song,” said Lionheart with a shrug, setting his goblet back down. Then he sat upright, gripping the arms of his chair, his mouth dropping open.

For Foxbrush had made his way to the dance floor, taken Daylily in his arms, and whirled her away in time to that music beneath the warm glow of the lanterns. The musician sang:

“Sing ye of all the lovers true

Beneath a sky of sapphire hue.

In light o’ the love I bear for you

All theirs must fade like morning dew.”

And every one of Southlands’ barons saw it.

Lionheart knew what he should do. He should rise up, storm to the dance floor, challenge his cousin to a duel . . . or simply take Daylily from his arms, laughing it all off like a big joke, and dance away to that pathetic tune. Either of which would have satisfied her. Either of which would have satisfied the barons.

Lionheart pushed back his chair, not caring how it scraped and drew the attention of every man and woman in the room, nobility and servant alike. He bowed to his father with as much dignity as he could muster and withdrew from his own wedding banquet.

He hastened along the dim corridor, uncertain whether he was furious or relieved to get away. The passages were mostly deserted here, for everyone, even the servants, was busy back at the hall. He needed a few moments of peace. That was all. A few moments to collect his thoughts and reinforce himself before returning. He needed—

“Lionheart!”

He turned, and Daylily stood before him. The light of a wall sconce cast a glow upon her hair and lit her eyes ablaze in her otherwise still face. “Lionheart, how can you do this to me?”

Lionheart drew a deep breath before answering. It would be best not to shout. Even in these quiet passages, someone might overhear. “Do what, Daylily?”

“Desert me on the floor, in front of everyone. And then huff out of there like a merchant’s spoiled brat.”

“I told you. I don’t like that song.”

He could almost feel the pressure of her anger hitting him like a wall as she neared. Yet her face remained quiet as death. “Can you be so foolish, Lionheart?” she asked. Her voice was deep for a woman’s, strange coming from that dainty mouth. “Can you not have realized?”

He made no answer but allowed her to draw nearer until she could drop her voice still lower.

“Your life is not about likes or dislikes,” said Daylily. “Not anymore.”

His eyes narrowed. “What are you saying?”

“You may become Eldest someday, but your power in Southlands hangs by a thread.”

Everything went still inside Lionheart. For the moment he had control of himself. He needed to grab hold of that moment now, with all his might, or regret it forever. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Daylily.”

“Don’t I?” She was so close now he could have reached out and given her a good shake if he allowed himself to. “I am the Baron of Middlecrescent’s daughter. I know what goes on in your kingdom better than you do, better than you ever have. Remember, you were absent those five years. You escaped.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Wasn’t it? If not escape, what was it?” Her words, though spoken softly, were harsh in his ears. “How did you manage to elude those years of enslavement, of poison? How did you manage to slip out when everyone else who tried was burned to a crisp? How did you time your little jaunt across the Continent so swimmingly as to return just after the Dragon had ceased to find our poor land interesting? If not escape, Lionheart, what was it?”

“You know why I left,” he said, his voice near a whisper. “You were there when I made my decision. You sped me on my way. I went to find the secret to defeating the Dragon. I left in order to help you.”

“Is that why you returned so boldly
after
the Dragon had torn apart your father’s house?
After
he ravaged your people’s lands?
After
he killed your mother?”

“Stop now. Stop.”

“No, Lionheart! You need to know what they’re saying about you. Friend of demons, that’s what they’re calling the man to whom I am betrothed. Bewitched.”

He snorted. “And you believe this nonsense?”

“How can I know what to believe? The Dragon did not harm you. He let you escape the poisons under which the rest of us suffered. Did you ever watch your dreams burn and die and burn and die again before your very eyes?”

I will give you your dream,
whispered the cold voice in his mind.
You will be Eldest of Southlands.

He grimaced, shaking his head as though to rid himself of that ever-present voice. “What do you want, Daylily?” he demanded. “What will it take to please you? That I fawn over you, that I jig to every nonsensical ballad that strikes your fancy, just for your amusement?”

“Not for my amusement, Lionheart. For my father’s.”

With an inhuman effort he forced back the words that threatened to spill like fire from his tongue. But she continued.

“It is only by his will that you remain Prince of Southlands. Have you not guessed it? Should the Council of Barons vote to disinherit you, your father will have no choice but to comply with their wishes. Or risk revolt.”

Lionheart’s mouth was dry. His veins seemed to pulse fire. “The Council has not been called.”

“Not yet. But it can and will be called faster than you can imagine should my father say the word. Can you really be so ignorant? Your father knows, though he may not let on. Should the Council be called, they will vote against you, and Hawkeye will appoint a new heir.”

Lionheart could not speak the name aloud, but his lips formed it even so. “Foxbrush.”

“I will be Queen of Southlands, one way or the other—”

Before she could finish, Lionheart grabbed her shoulders. It took everything in him to keep from shaking the teeth from her skull. Instead, his fingers dug into the furs draped about her elegant frame, and his eyes burned into hers.

“Don’t threaten me. Not now. Not after everything I’ve gone through to come this far. I won’t hear it from you, nor from your father. I am the Eldest’s only son, and I will sit on my father’s throne. There’s nothing you, your father, or anyone can do to prevent me from having what has been promised me. So keep your threats, my lady! You waste your breath.”

“Oh, Leo!” For a moment, her mask melted away. He saw a flash of true compassion, of sorrow, even fear. “I am not threatening. I am warning you!”

His fingers relaxed in surprise even as Daylily lowered her lashes, shielding her eyes. When next she looked at him, she was herself again, cold and unreadable. “Do you think I want to see your fool of a cousin on the throne?”

Lionheart let go and backed away, turning from Daylily. She put out a hand and almost touched his shoulder but withdrew it at the last. “It need not happen as I have said. You can prevent my father from calling the Council.”

“How?” said Lionheart through clenched teeth. “By making a fool of myself before the court with displays of doting affection?”

No one watching could have guessed at Daylily’s thoughts had they seen her face. She swallowed slowly and blinked once. “That will not be necessary,” she said. “There is a much easier method of winning my father’s approval and the approval of all Southlands.”

“And that is?”

“Get rid of the demon.”

He turned upon her. She stood like a queen of old going into battle, her shoulders set and eyes hard. “You know of whom I speak.”

No words would come. His mouth opened and closed.

“Rose Red,” said Daylily. “That creature has bewitched you long enough. Have you not heard how she consorted with the Dragon? Have you not heard—”

“Not another word, Daylily,” he hissed.

“No, you will hear me!” she declared, and this time it was she who grabbed him, clutching the front of his shirt in a tight fist. “That stoop-shouldered monster has ensorcelled you since you were a boy. Don’t you think it strange that none of the rest of us is so enthralled by her? Have you not heard what my father has whispered into the ears of everyone in court? How the creature kidnapped me and dragged me back to the Eldest’s House to join the other prisoners. How she sacrificed your mother—”

He took her hand in both of his and wrenched her grasp away. “You lie.”

“Maybe,” she whispered, once more lowering her eyes. “But I would do much more, Leo, to see you dismiss her.”

Lionheart’s hands tightened painfully over her fingers, but she would not pull away. “You have always preferred her. She has always been your friend. And what of me? Was I never good enough? Must I be forever inferior to that . . . monster?”

“Rose Red is no monster.”

Daylily laughed. “Are you blind as well as a fool?”

“And I am no fool.”

He pushed her hand from him as though he would like to banish her from his presence. Daylily backed a step away and clutched her crumpled fingers to her chest. But she did not break Lionheart’s gaze.

“I will not dismiss Rose Red,” he said. “Nor will I see any harm come to her. She is under my protection as sanctioned by the Eldest himself. Even your father cannot gainsay the Eldest’s express order.”