As benches scraped and men rose to pay their respects to their new overlord, Melitta made her way to the back of the hall. She knew good manners decreed that she should congratulate George on his good fortune, and on his bride, but she wasn't sure that anything she said would be considered good manners tonight.
She climbed the stairs to her chamber, where she packed up the little she had, and decided to leave George a note. It would be hours before the dragonslaying lord would find it, by which time she would be well away, she was certain. What need did he have for her anyway? He had his bride, his lands, his lordship – everything he had ever wanted. Melitta fought down a sob. He didn't need and definitely didn't want her. After all, who'd choose a mere lady when he could have a princess? He'd said as much this morning. Even last night, he'd hinted that it wouldn't have been honourable to give in to their desires. She'd thought he meant delaying by a day, but evidently she'd misunderstood. Instead, he'd meant that today he would marry a princess, and she would have what? Permission to watch? Melitta wanted to give him a piece of her mind about that, too.
Yet when she faced the empty piece of parchment with a quill in hand, she still did not know what to say. She had to write something, she knew. Dipping her quill in the ink, Melitta forced herself to write what was right.
I congratulate you, Lord George, she wrote. My best wishes for your future health and happiness. Should you ever have need to hire a slayer of monsters, you will find me…
Here she stopped. For where would he find her? Her first thought was to return home, as she had promised her mother, but Melitta wasn't sure she could go back to her old life. She liked the adventure of the life she had led since she left home. She would not easily give up her leathers for silks once more.
Finally, she wrote: You will find me where I am needed most.
Vague but probably the best she could come up with at the time, she decided.
She sealed the scroll with a blob of wax and left it on the table in her room. It was all she left behind, for little remained of her childish dreams of love, marriage, and happiness.
Shouldering her saddlebags, Melitta headed down to the stables. She would saddle her horse and be gone before anyone thought to ask for her. By the time George read her message and thought to look for her, she would be safely asleep in an inn in the next town. Perhaps, if she was lucky, she would have already found information about her next quest. Unbidden, a smile sprang to her lips at the thought. The people of Kasmirus must might not believe a maiden could slay monsters, but she would show them. She was a dragonslayer now.
The stables were surprisingly quiet, for all that they were full of horses. Oh, the horses made plenty of noise, but there was no one about. Even the stable hands were off celebrating this night. After all, it wasn't every day someone slayed a dragon that had plagued your city. The whole city was celebrating.
Yet Melitta heard the clink of harness and was instantly on the alert. "Who's there?" she demanded, sliding her dagger from its sheath. "Show yourself!"
The clinking ceased, but no one appeared. Melitta was not fooled. Carefully, she bit her lip and sent her thoughts out, questing for the mind of what she suspected was a horse thief.
But the jumbled mind she touched was no thief at all.
I will not be a prize, the distinctly feminine thoughts repeated to herself. I will not be handed over as a prize. I am a princess, not some bauble!
Melitta's horse thief could be none other than the Princess Sativa, George's intended bride. An unwilling bride, Melitta realised uneasily.
Forgetting her own hurry to leave, Melitta made her way to the stall where the princess hid behind a horse. "Princess?" Melitta ventured. "Why are you not at the feast, celebrating with everyone else?"
Melitta had to give the girl credit. The princess stepped out of hiding, her chin held high. "You shall not stop me," the girl insisted. "I am not a prize to be won. I will not be handed to that shoemaker in marriage like some pretty bauble."
Melitta balked at the girl's tone. "George is no mere shoemaker," she said, frowning. "True, he was once a master shoemaker. But he is also a hero, a slayer of monsters and giants. He has saved maidens and whole towns from monsters. And he slayed a dragon at the very gates to your city. Your father has seen fit to make him a lord and give him lands to match. Any girl would be lucky to be allowed to marry such a man." Melitta had to swallow hard against the lump in her throat as she said this. She would consider herself lucky to marry George, lordship and lands notwithstanding. This spoiled princess, royalty though she might be, did not deserve him.
"I will not be a prize," the princess repeated stubbornly.
Only then did Melitta realise that the clinking harness she had heard was the saddle and bridle the horse behind the princess now wore. The princess would rather flee than marry George.
"He does not love me," the princess continued. "Though I sat beside him, he scarcely even looked at me. He had eyes for only one person in the feasting hall." She glared at Melitta. "You. The one he calls his squire, but you are more than that, aren't you? You are his lover."
Melitta tried hard not to laugh. She loved him, she knew that. But she had never shared his bed, not in the way the princess meant, and now she never would. For he was to marry this girl and Melitta was nothing to him. "I am not his lover. I am his partner, in that we slayed the dragon together. We have slayed many beasts together, but I think his hero days are done."
"Lover or not, his heart belongs to you," the princess said bitterly. "You shall not stop me. I ride to the coast, and my betrothed. A man who loves me, or at least he did once."
Melitta's heart ached for the girl, for she saw herself in this proud princess. Both fled their homes in search of a better life they imagined lay outside the castle, though they sought very different things. Which was a sillier goal, though – love, or a dragon? Melitta couldn't suppress a smile. A dragon, of course, for she knew love existed.
So did Princess Sativa.
"Take only what you need with you," Melitta urged. "Food, water, weapons, and clothes that are suited for rough travel. Nothing that will mark you for what you are, because there are men on the roads who will take advantage of a lady. They will see you as even more of a prize." Melitta was tempted to tell the girl exactly what sort of prize those brigands had thought her, but she wasn't sure even that would make the princess change her mind. After all, Melitta had known, but she'd gone anyway. "You would be safer in your father's castle."
The princess drew herself up. "What would you know of it? A girl pretending to be a squire knows nothing of the cage that is a royal court."
Melitta laughed. "Forgive me, your royal highness, but I was raised in a royal court, a princess in all but name, alongside Queen Margareta's own children. And I could take my place at her side again tomorrow, if I wished. But I will not leave these walls without my armour, my weapons, and enough money and provisions for the journey, because I know there are monsters out there." She pulled a dagger from its ankle sheath and held it out to Princess Sativa. "Take it, princess, for I promise you will have need of it."
Sativa swept aside her cape, revealing two sheathed daggers strapped to her girdle. "I am not a fool."
Melitta sincerely hoped the girl was right. Still, she dug through her bag until she found a clean tunic and hose. "Then at least take these. Court dresses will be no use to you on your journey."
Sativa hesitated, then took the clothing. "I thank you. But I must repay you, and I will need all the coin I have for my journey, as you say. Wait." She disappeared back into the horse stall.
Melitta fought not to tap her foot in impatience.
Finally, the princess emerged, wearing Melitta's spare clothes. "They are finer than they look. Here, consider this a gift." She thrust a wad of silk at Melitta.
"I have no need for silk," Melitta replied, realising too late that she held the princess's feast gown. "Oh, no. I cannot wear this."
"Every priest in the city is so drunk they cannot tell the difference between one woman and another. Yet in an hour, my father will command one of them to conduct a wedding, marrying me to the shoemaker. If you wear this, they will think you are me. Marry the man, if that is your wish. By morning, it will be too late for anyone to do anything. I will be gone and you will be his wife." Sativa's eyes implored her. "Please."
"My lady? Are you here, or am I too late?" a male voice called. George.
The princess paled. "He cannot catch me here. He will stop me!"
A princess too proud to beg for help. Melitta made no attempt to hide her smile. Rescuing maidens in distress was what heroes did, and she was every bit as much a hero as George.
Who had eyes for only one woman at the feast, hmm? Perhaps Melitta might stay after all, and marry such a man. And in so doing, save a princess.
Lifting her chin, Melitta marched out of the stables. "Lord George," she greeted him.
George sagged in relief. "Thank God. I thought you'd left. Melitta, I swear I didn't know about the princess. I must speak to the king, tell him I cannot…"
Melitta silenced him with a wave of her hand. "Ah, but you can. I have it on good authority that the princess will not attend your wedding. But I have a mind to. Give me a moment, for I must be properly dressed."
They found an empty chamber, and George guarded the door while Melitta changed into the princess's gown. The silk felt strange against her skin after so long in linen, leather and wool. And yet, when she laced up the overdress, it felt as familiar as anything she'd worn at home. She looked down at the shimmery blue silk embroidered with gold thread, reminiscent of one of Queen Margareta's gowns. A wedding dress fit for a queen, or a princess. Too much for a mere lady, a girl who chased dragons and unicorns.
Melitta swallowed, then pushed open the door. George turned slowly, his eyes taking her in.
"My lady." He bowed so low, his head nearly touched the ground. "Never have I seen a woman more lovely."
She heard the clop of a horse's hooves, trotting across the bailey and out the gate. For good or ill, Princess Sativa had left in search of love, or her destiny.
Far more sensible than searching for dragons, Melitta now knew.
Her eyes met George's and they shared the same thought, though George's inability to read minds made him voice it.
"There was a drunk priest I passed on my way here. If you are willing, Lady Melitta…" he began.
"A drunk priest, you say? Then I am more than willing," Melitta replied warmly, linking her arm through George's and leading him back to the feasting hall.
They paused outside so that George could help her cover her hair with the princess's veil. When he was satisfied that it was straight, they stepped into the hall together.
In almost no time at all, Melitta knelt beside George in the castle chapel, trying to make sense of the priest's words as he slurred through the ceremony.
King Boreslas and his court crowded into the room, talking so loudly they made it almost impossible to hear the priest.
"Melitta?" George prompted.
"Oh, yes, I do," Melitta replied.
More mumbling as the priest wrapped his stole around their joined hands, before he uttered something that ended with the word "wife".
Melitta rose, dusting off her knees. She had saved the hero from the princess, just like something in a fairytale.
"Godspeed, princess," she said softly.
"What?" George asked.
"Oh, nothing. Let's head for your bedchamber, before this drunken rabble decide to follow us," Melitta said. "I want you all to myself tonight."
George grinned. "I was thinking the same thing, my lady."