by Deva Fagan
“Have you ever told a fortune that didn’t come true?”
My heart beat faster. Did Leonato know I was a fake? My back was to the prince, so I could not read his expression. I realized I needed to respond. “There’s no reason to worry, Your Highness. The fortune is nearly complete. You will fulfill the Edicts.”
“But are you s-s-sure Maridonna is the princess?”
That turned me around. Leonato had abandoned his own watch and stood facing me. His golden brows knit together.
“What do you mean? Don’t you like her? She’s beautiful. Cornsilk hair, ruby lips, skin like cream. She might have stepped from the pages of a fairy tale.”
Leonato shook his head abruptly. “No, in the fairy tales I would have fallen in love with her at first s-s-sight. Fortunata, I don’t love her. How can I marry her?”
He didn’t love her! The words rang through my mind like the glorious trumpets of the Saints. I struggled for words, battling the urge that had risen like a great burning flame in my heart: to tell him not to marry her.
Then I forced myself to recall my mission. I imagined my father, whose only crime had been to believe in his daughter, being led before the headsman’s block. “Well, you’ve only just met. You’ll learn to love her. I’m sure you’ll be happy together.”
It was a lie, and it hurt more than any other I’d told. I could bear to lose Leonato if it was only my heart being torn. But what if Allessandra was right? What if he really did—
No. I could not let myself think that way. I started back to my post.
“Fortunata, I can’t marry her, not when I love—”
He fell silent as Tomas scrambled up from the barge. My heartbeat thrummed loud as hoofbeats, but I did not dare ask Leonato to finish his statement.
“All set. Had to repair half a dozen for dampness, but what a show we’ll have. You two should head back now. Quick and quiet, and the Saints keep you both. Allessandra will be waiting. I’ll stay until the midnight bell. Go on.”
We went. I desperately wanted to ask Leonato what he had been about to say, but I could not. My father’s fate haunted me, visions of the headsman, black and terrible, his great ax lifted high. Leonato did not seem inclined to finish the conversation. As we hurried back to the eastern quarter, all his attention seemed engaged in some inner world of thought.
When we reached the others, they were in a state. Captain Ribisi glowered like a smoky fire, and lines creased Allessandra’s brow, bringing back something of the sharpness I had not seen since our time with Ubaldo. “What’s wrong?” I asked her, as she helped me down the slick stone steps to the wooden dock.
“We nearly lost the princess. Fool girl lost herself, in fact, though I minded her to stay close. Father found her nearly under the nose of a guardsman.”
Maridonna sat primly in the stern of the rowboat, a dark cloak drawn around her shoulders but cast back so that her fair hair glimmered like an earthbound star. Her nose crinkled slightly as I moved to join her, but she was all smiles and cheer as Leonato followed. He and the captain had made one quick search of the nearby area to make certain we were unwatched. We all remembered the archers from the Perdutto—whoever they were.
I wondered what Maridonna had been about, losing herself. She was a mean-spirited, vicious girl, but she wasn’t stupid. The first of the fireworks distracted me from these thoughts. A great shimmering cloud of blue and white lit the sky to the south, chased closely by the tremendous roar. Bursts of red and green and gold followed, casting such brilliance that I began to fear they might reveal us. I heard distant cries of alarm.
“The watch boats are turning south,” said Captain Ribisi. “We go now!” Allessandra bent across from the dock, holding out her hand to clasp her father’s. Then she set one foot on the side of the boat and helped push it off into the open waters of the Balta.
I HELD MY BREATH as our rowboat bumped up on the sandy banks north of Baltriporto. Thus far we had escaped notice. It seemed a miracle to me. Captain Niccolo might be an evil, slimy scoundrel, but he was good at his job. I was surprised we had not encountered even one watch boat. Then again, the fireworks had been very impressive.
We disembarked, and Captain Ribisi and I dragged the boat under the cover of a willow down along the bank, where a scrubby woodland met the water. Allessandra would retrieve it later. Turning back, I saw Maridonna and Leonato making their way up the slope toward the curve of the north road that looped out from the woods to follow the line of the river. The girl walked with grace and delicacy, yet still contrived to slip and fall against Leonato several times. Eventually he scooped her up in his arms, carrying her over the last bit of grass. I gritted my teeth, unable to suppress a snort of disgust.
Captain Ribisi halted abruptly, head cocked.
“That was me,” I said contritely, thinking he must have heard my snort. But the captain drew his hand sharply through the air, silencing me. The distant pop and crackle of the last fireworks echoed across the waters, the only alien sound amid the burble of water, the piping of frogs, and the singing of crickets. Then I heard it: a crunch of wood. Someone was in the scrub above us.
I stood stupidly for a moment, still straining my ears, hoping I was mistaken. Captain Ribisi seized my arm, drawing me down as an arrow hissed through the air. In another heartbeat he was pulling me along the bank, running toward Leonato and calling the alarm. “Ambush! Beware the south bank!”
Leonato took off for the road, still carrying the princess, who was making useless mewling noises. I cursed silently. If she drew that archer’s fire with her cries and Leonato was struck, by all the seven Hells, I would make her pay!
I dashed after the prince, desperate to keep him in sight. I could hear tramping behind us now. More arrows hissed through the night air. Leonato disappeared behind a large boulder, and the next moment a shriek filled the air, followed soon after by a grunt, a crash of branches and sticks, and the whinny of a horse.
As the captain and I raced around the boulder, I saw a pair of feet protruding from the dark bushes. A ragged gasp of relief burst from my lips as I saw Leonato attempting to soothe a large black gelding. Maridonna cowered against the boulder. She shrieked again when the captain and I came in sight.
“That’s one down, then,” said Captain Ribisi, eyeing the feet.
“There are more out there.” Leonato, having brought the horse under control, led the beast toward us and thrust the reins into the captain’s hands. “Get the princess away from here. Your Highness, please, don’t fear. Captain Ribisi will take good care of you.” He beckoned to Maridonna.
She rose reluctantly from the boulder. “But will you not come with me?”
“I’ll s-s-stay with Fortunata. We’ll find another way. It’s the princess they’re s-s-s—”
“I can’t leave you,” said Captain Ribisi, as Leonato struggled to speak. But at the captain’s words the prince pulled himself straight, took a deep breath, and spoke again without a single falter.
“Yes, Captain, you must. I am your prince. I order you to do this.” Leonato’s words rang with a strange sort of triumph, despite the situation.
Captain Ribisi hesitated, then jumped up lightly astride the black horse. Maridonna’s face twisted with displeasure and fear. She clung to Leonato’s arm and opened her mouth, but he whisked her up and handed her to the captain. “No!” she protested, but Captain Ribisi had already wheeled the horse around.
“Saints be with you, my prince,” he said. “And you, Prophetess.”
Leonato did not even watch them go. He had grabbed tight hold of my hand. “We’ll be safer in the woods. It’ll be like old times again,” he said, with a faint grin.
Brush tangled our path, making it impossible to move without the crackle of twigs. We stumbled through the darkness. I hoped Leonato knew where he was going, for I had lost all sense of direction by that time.
We came out into a bit of a clearing. I saw the paler curve of the road again, off to our right. I was about
to suggest we take our chances that way, when a rider plunged out toward us. Leonato thrust me back into the shelter of a laurel bush. As the rider neared, I saw silver glinting in the filtered moonlight: a sword. The prince seized a branch from the forest floor. Ducking under the sweep of the sword, he brought his branch up, catching the rider under the arm.
The sword flew wide. The rider cursed, then grunted in surprise as Leonato leapt at him. The horse reared. I thought both men would fall. The rider tried to kick free, but Leonato held on grimly. The horse plunged back toward the road, dragging the prince after him.
“Leonato!” I cried, scrambling to follow. Just as I emerged out onto the open road, a figure loomed up across from me. The man gave an evil grin, his eyes narrow and black and pitiless. I opened my mouth, but the scream froze in my throat at the cold certainty that this man would kill me. My last prophecy, and it would be true.
He raised his ax. I could only stare transfixed, my mind screaming at my body to move. I caught a flicker of movement from the woods past the man. His lips slackened, his eyes widened. He pitched forward with a gurgling cry. I looked stupidly down at where he now lay in the road, unmoving, then up again. Leonato must have returned just in time to save me.
But it wasn’t the prince who stepped forward from the dark wood. It was Coso. His bright eyes stared at me from under grizzled hair bound back in one of the scarves he and Cristo favored. He held a long blade in his hand, covered to the hilt with blood. Coso grinned, white teeth flashing in the dark, then stooped to wipe the dagger on the back of the dead man’s coat.
“Coso? What are you doing here?”
“No thanks, girl? I saved your life.” He rose again, sliding the dagger into a sheath at his side. He crossed his arms.
“But . . . why? You don’t care about me.”
“Not one jot.” He chuckled. “But I do care about the five hundred guilders.”
“What five hun—” I stopped abruptly, understanding at last. “My prophecy. You’re here to make certain it comes true.”
“Of course. Do you suppose Ubaldo would trust a silly chit like you to earn us that coin? You’ve already made a right mess of things with that stupid prophecy. Witches and magical swords and slippers! Even a real seer couldn’t have concocted such a pack of nonsense.”
“Ubaldo knows well enough I’ve no True Sight, that this is all a pack of lies dressed up to look like a prophecy. If only he’d told me what was going on, I could have come up with something better.”
“Or simply refused altogether. Enough, girl. I’ve dealt with this problem for you, but you’d best be on your way now. Just get the boy and his pretty new prize back to Doma. You’ve done your part. Keep your mouth shut and let us do our job, and you’ll have your father back and we’ll have our reward. You act smart enough, and Ubaldo might even give you a bit of the coin.”
He turned then, and stalked back into the woods. I nearly ran after him to demand that he tell me everything Ubaldo had done, but a noise from down the road drew my attention. Someone was standing there. Leonato.
His face was pale, and drawn so tense I thought at first he must be wounded. He stepped forward stiffly, as if not quite in control of his limbs. “A pack of lies? All of this? All this time? It’s been just s-s-some tale you invented, to gain coin?”
I stared back in horror. This couldn’t be happening. All I had was Leonato’s faith, the brightness in his eyes when he looked at me and believed in me. Now even that was being torn away. I tried to speak, to protest, to find more lies to cover this horrible rending chasm that had suddenly opened at my feet. But the words did not come. My throat clenched so tight I could barely breathe. I nodded.
Leonato bowed his head and turned away from me.
CHAPTER
12
“LEONATO.” I FINALLY forced my lips to move, though the word came out as a croak. I reached out for his shoulder, but he pulled away at the slightest touch of my fingers. I snatched back my hand and clutched it to my chest. Coward that I was, I thanked the Saints I could not see his face.
The prince trembled, holding himself perfectly taut and upright, hands stiff at his sides. “You let me believe in this. In myself. But it was nothing, it was lies. And I thought”—he gave a bitter laugh, shaking his head—“I thought I was a hero. But I’m just a lie too. Like Aunt Donata s-s-said.”
“You’re not!”
“Did I do a s-s-single thing? The s-s-sword? The witch? S-s-saints preserve me, the princess, even? Was that all s-s-some farce? You and your friends laughing at me all the while, the s-s-stupid, s-s-stuttering prince s-s-silly enough to believe in it?” He paced back and forth, running his hands through his loose golden curls.
“The princess is real, as far as I know. I swear by the Saints. I was going to find the first girl who fit the slippers.”
Leonato gave a bark of laughter. “As if I can ever believe you again.”
Oh, Saints have mercy on me, I had done this to him. I had given him hope and then ripped it away. “You must believe me. You are a hero. You saved my life in the Black Wood, and in Sirenza too. You’re courageous and kind and just, and you deserve to be king.”
“I will not be king by a lie!” He spat out the words, eyes narrowed.
All the coldness filling my breast suddenly frothed up into hot anger. “Then you as good as murder my father. I didn’t want to do this. I would never have done it, if I’d known how it would end. I would never have risked Papa’s life. I would never have hurt you.”
“Then why? Why come to this? Why make your life by s-s-selling lies?”
“You have no idea what my life is like,” I said bitterly. “You in your palace, with all the food you could wish for, and hot baths, and a gilded roof over your head. Have you ever been hungry, or cold, or wanted for anything you couldn’t have?”
Leonato was silent for a long moment, staring at me. “Yes,” he said softly, “I have wanted s-s-something I could not have.” Then he jerked his head away. He turned back down the road. “But it was a lie as well.”
“So. You will have my father killed.” Now both the cold fear and the hot anger had left me. I felt like dead dry leaves or an old hollow tree, as if the wind could blow through me. “And your aunt will be queen. She’s the one sending these men to kill us, you know,” I added dully.
“No.” He didn’t look back. He untied the leads of the horse he’d secured off the side of the road ahead. “I won’t be responsible for that. S-s-saints have mercy, I will not betray your s-s-secret.”
“Thank you,” I said. It came out as a whisper.
“Don’t thank me,” he snapped. “I’m doing it for your father, and for Doma. Not for you.” He brushed one hand across his face. When he turned to me, his eyes were hard and cold, his mouth in a thin tight line. He thrust the reins into my hands. “Get up. You can ride. My princess is waiting.”
THE JOURNEY BACK to Doma was a nightmare. We passed through the same village where Leonato had whirled me around during the feast of Saint Aleppo. I remembered his joy, the way he had seemed to seize all of life. The young man who crossed the square now was stern-faced, cheerless. I had done this. He had made me believe in the joy and wonder of life, and what had I done in return? Destroyed it. Turned it into something sordid and false. I felt like a murderer.
It was far more brutal than simply losing my foolish dream of a future with Leonato. The man I had loved was gone. I tried to cling to my memories, telling myself we had shared something real and true, but with every passing league, they slipped away and turned to dust.
Leonato did not berate me. There were no more recriminations. It was worse than that. He simply ignored me. He was so polite and cool that I almost doubted I had seen that horrible look on his face when he first discovered my lies.
The worst part was watching the prince with Maridonna, after we reunited with her and Captain Ribisi. Before this, he’d treated the princess with a detached courtesy, not even seeming to notice her att
empts to secure his attention. Now he attended upon her every word and desire. I watched them with feverish intent, searching for some hint of that old disinterest, a fixed quality to his smile when she sidled up against him, clinging to his arm. But it was more likely my own wishful thinking.
Thank the Saints, at least he had not yet officially asked her to marry him. I supposed he was waiting until the Edicts had been fully verified and authorized. I hoped that when he did, I would be long gone, somewhere I would never hear his name spoken again.
Maridonna did not let this prevent her from embarking on plans for her bridal garb and feast. Even Leonato’s determined attention quailed before her stream of chatter about silk and damask, velvet and taffeta, gold goblets and ivory-handled spoons, pastry swans and ten-tiered cakes. Sometimes the prince begged off on such onesided conversations, to ride ahead and check the condition of the roads. On those occasions, Maridonna settled on me as a surrogate audience, while Captain Ribisi held a position several wagon-lengths back down the trail, watching for any more brigands.
“It must be difficult to make such plans when you have no family to attend the festivities,” I said rather sharply one morning, after she had told me for the fifth time about a new pattern of lace she planned to commission for the trim of her bridal undergarments.
She looked puzzled for a moment. “Family? Oh. Yes, well, my darling Leonato will be my family now, of course.”
“There are no others left, are there? From your family, the royal house of Sirenza?” I asked. I caught a flicker of something in the princess’s lovely face, something that made me struggle again to determine what it was that seemed so familiar.
“Ah, there’s my dear prince now,” she said in relief.
I looked up to see Leonato astride his bay gelding. He held a bunch of wildflowers in one hand: cornflowers, poppies, yarrow. For the first time in several days, he met my eyes. For a fleeting moment I thought he was going to give the flowers to me; I had to clasp my hands together to keep from reaching for them.
