“The queen didn’t say nothing about her.”
“But Reynald did, when we met him on the way here. What if he asks about Twig?”
“Fine.” Neal drew his sword and motioned them to go in front of him. He pointed the blade at their backs. “Behave yourselves or the Earth Lander’ll get it.”
Chapter 19
Ben’s old room was exactly as he’d left it—except that somebody had tidied it up and kept it clean all these years. The same bed with its deep blue comforter, a rich color fit for a prince. A prince he’d never wanted to be. He’d jumped on it like a child of the wilderness. He remembered begging Griffin to join him. But Griffin was too princely to stoop to that level.
His father had stretched out on that bed next to him at night, after his mother had tucked him in and kissed him, when Ben begged him to stay a few more minutes, just the two of them. He’d tell Ben stories about the old days, about herding, about wild unicorns. Stories his mother didn’t approve of.
“I want to be a herder like you, Father,” Ben would say. Then his father’s smile would fade. Sometimes he’d remind Ben, “Your mother used to be a herder too.”
Ben always found it hard to believe the stories about his mother herding. They were great stories, but it was like they were about someone else.
“This was your room?” Twig’s question was near a whisper, but it startled Ben out of his memories.
“Yes. I haven’t been here since I was small. Since I ran away to find my father.”
“So…I guess we’re supposed to get dressed. Do you think there’s any girl’s clothes in there?” Twig pointed at the wardrobe. Its doors were painted with twin unicorns, leaping so that their horns touched where the doors met.
Ben opened the wardrobe. Little suits hung there, freshly laundered and perfectly pressed. Had he really been that small? Had his mother really thought he’d stayed that small? More likely she’d simply ordered the maids to keep his room ready when he’d first disappeared, then never given the wardrobe another thought or the maids another direction about it. Ben pushed the child’s clothes aside. A new suit of clothes, just his size, hung on the other side. It was far too fancy for his liking, but at least it was green, and not some garishly bright combination that would make him look like a walking flower. But what about Twig?
As if in answer, someone rapped briskly on the door.
“Come in,” he said.
Neal stood guard at the door as a young maid entered with a pale blue gown draped over her arm. “For the young lady,” she said curtly.
Twig made no move to take the clothes, so Ben swept them out of the maid’s hands. He gave her a good glare for turning her nose up at Twig.
Once they were alone again, Ben pointed to the dressing screen in the corner, a silverwood frame draped in heavy tapestry. “You can change over there, Twig. I’ll dress out here.”
Putting on those clothes felt like putting on someone else’s skin. A false self he’d fought to shed all those years ago. He’d never felt he’d belonged here in the castle. Neither had Darian. He’d always known that. Was that why Ben had felt the same way? Because he was his father’s son?
He couldn’t stay here. He couldn’t see his mother. Or Griffin. He hadn’t missed the accusation in his brother’s eyes. Griffin blamed Ben for their father’s death. And why shouldn’t he? If he’d let Indy kill Dagger when he had the chance—
“Ben?” Twig emerged from behind the dressing screen. She smoothed the silk gown with her hands. They were shaking. “I was thinking…I know, it’s a little big. I look weird, don’t I?”
“No…”
“Anyway—” A stray white feather had found its way from the collar of the gown into her hair. It floated down into her face, and she batted it away. “I don’t want you to just go to this banquet for me.”
Ben folded his arms across his chest. She had an odd, determined look about her. Whatever she was going to say, he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to like it.
Twig pushed on. “Don’t just go there to show your face. Go there for Indy. For Westland. For all Terracornus.”
She sounded like Merrill again. Keep your oath and go to the queen. The words from the thief’s note nagged at him. He hadn’t vowed to go to her, but he had taken an oath to protect unicorns.
“You’re still her son. You can influence her. Merrill said you should try to persuade her to make peace with Eastland. To start turning Westland back to what it was.”
“I cannot influence the queen.”
It was she who would influence him. She’d try to undo everything his father had raised him to be. He’d seen her face when she’d found out his father had died. “We knew it was going to happen, Mother.” That’s what Griffin had said. They’d been right. And now Indy was lost. They were his family. He hadn’t been prepared for how much seeing them would make him want that. He’d tried not to think about them all these years, other than despising what they were doing to Westland and its unicorns. He’d told himself that was why he couldn’t stand to come here.
Twig grabbed his sleeve. “You have to try. I’ll be there with you, Ben.”
“It’s a bad idea. It won’t end well.”
“And how will it end if we do nothing?”
Ben sank onto the foot of the bed. He picked at the gold tassel on the corner of the comforter. “You think I’m stronger than my father? He could stand up to them and love them at the same time. I never could. But even he couldn’t do it here, after the way my mother changed. I don’t think I can—”
“And I thought I couldn’t ride a unicorn, remember!”
He remembered. He remembered he’d talked her into it.
Twig gripped the bedpost like she wanted to shake it—and shake him right off the bed. “We’re not nothing, Ben. Neither of us. We were made for something.”
“I know that! I used to think I knew what that was. My father’s partner, Indy’s rider, protector of the island’s herd. But now—Indy needs me. The island needs me. I don’t know if they need me, but the Murleys want me. And now you and Merrill are trying to tell me that all of Westland, all the unicorns and people of Terracornus need me. And in their own way, my mother and my brother are trying to tell me they need me, or at least they need me to go along and do whatever they want! I cannot do all those things! I cannot do any of those things, and we’re both stuck here!”
He hurled a pillow at the wall, sending a painting of the countryside clattering to the floor.
A tear slipped down Twig’s cheek, and Ben regretted his outburst. She was scared. Scared and trying to be brave for him. Twig had every reason to be afraid. His mother had made it clear she didn’t want Twig going back to the Earth Land and telling everyone about the passage, about Terracornus. Ben’s mother had married a Murley, a recent descendant of Earth Landers. She knew there was more to the Earth Land than the island—a whole world for Twig to tell about theirs. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down, trying not to feel even more caged in this room and its memories than he had in the dungeon.
Twig didn’t stop crying, but she put a hand on Ben’s arm. “Just think about one thing at a time. You can’t change Terracornus or even Westland all at once, but maybe you can get your mother and the Boy King to agree to keep their truce. Maybe you can convince her to let us out so we can get Indy.”
Ben tried not to look as hopeless as he felt. “She used to be different…”
“My mom changed,” Twig said softly, hesitantly, “and that changed me. I thought that meant we could never change back. In a way, I was right. Neither of us could ever be exactly the same. But I found out I could change. I could be something new. Something stronger. You helped show me that, Ben. You are that now. You didn’t follow her ways. You found a way out. Westland is more like how I was. Stuck, thinking that from now on, this is how it always has to be. But I’ll bet some of th
em have never stopped dreaming that something would happen, that somebody would come and make everything right again. Even if she doesn’t change, that doesn’t mean Westland can’t.”
“It was so easy to know what to do when my father was here. And then, even when he was gone, when it came to the herd, I just had to ask myself what he would do. It wasn’t so hard to figure out. But this…”
“I never had that with my dad.”
That was hard for Ben to imagine. “Is that why you went with your mom instead of your father?” he asked.
“He was gone for training, for the army. My mom told me we were moving. I didn’t know we were moving away from him. I didn’t know he didn’t know where she was taking me.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Twig.”
Twig shrugged. Neither of them said anything for a long time. Then Ben had to ask, “Twig, do you think she’ll ever change?”
“I don’t know. But I know…” Twig gulped. She brushed the tears from her cheek. “I know it’s not your fault if she doesn’t.”
“I meant your mom.”
“Oh.”
He gave her a nudge. “The same thing’s true for you, then, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, I guess it is.” She tucked a strand of straggly hair behind her ear.
“They’ll send someone to do your hair, I think.”
She scrunched her nose. “Will they put feathers in it?”
“Probably.”
“I’ll look even weirder.”
“You’ll look like a lady.”
And he was going to have to be a prince. It was the only way to do any of the things Twig wanted him to do. The things he felt sure now that he was supposed to do. His mother wouldn’t help Ben the herder, Ben the unicorn rider, Ben of the Island. She had turned her back on him a long time ago.
Chapter 20
Ben strode into the banquet room with his head held high. Twig followed, but she looked down at her slippered feet, at the floor. She felt ridiculous, and her hand was throbbing again. Maybe she should’ve stayed back in the cell. Ben seemed to know his way around here well enough. What did he need her for?
“Lift your head up,” Ben whispered.
Twig flushed and raised her chin. She’d heard that often enough from the Murleys, with their gentle but firm ways of trying to help her be something better, of reminding her that she was made for something better. But would even the Murleys expect her to walk into a queen’s banquet room with her head up? Especially with Neal, the queen’s guard, herding them in with his threatening glare.
But she’d just told Ben that he could do this—not just get through dinner, but really do something, really be who he was. She’d been so scared talking to him, telling him those things. But it seemed like he’d listened, like he was going to try. She couldn’t let him down now.
One step into the room, and Twig didn’t have to worry about keeping her eyes off her feet—they were fixed on the table. The great, long slab of oak was heaped with platters of food, the air thick with a spicy mix of aromas that made Twig’s stomach untwist from its clench of nervousness and growl hungrily.
At the opposite end of the table sat Reynald, the Boy King, flanked by his guards, Ackley and Barlow. Reynald spoke quietly to Ackley. A smile played on his lips. Twig couldn’t help but think it looked devious.
“Your Majesty, Prince Griffin, and Prince Reynald of Eastland,” announced a young man stationed at the door, “may I present Prince Ben and Twig of Lonehorn Island.”
The nonroyals at the table stood. Ben bowed stiffly at his family and Reynald. Twig followed his lead and stumbled into a curtsy. They were shown to their seats, directly across from the queen. Once again, Griffin was seated at his mother’s side.
Twig concentrated on eating while the royal family of Westland made small talk with Reynald about his journey from Eastland.
“I hear you ran into my brother along the way,” Griffin said to Reynald.
Twig glanced at Ben. His smile looked even more forced than before. She hoped he’d keep his cool and think about what she told him earlier. Now that she was here, facing these people, she didn’t know if she’d have the guts to ask the queen for anything either.
“Ye-es,” Reynald said. His eyebrows went up in surprise, and Ben’s face froze.
Ben had told Twig about how he’d asked Reynald to keep quiet about seeing them. But then, because she’d tried to come along, he’d blurted it out to Neal.
Reynald turned on Ben. “I suppose you’ve added your own false accusations to fuel your mother’s fire. I should’ve known I couldn’t trust anyone from this family to keep his word.”
Griffin looked taken aback. He held out his hands in a gesture of peace. “Let’s all just stay calm now. I’m sure no one is accusing anyone of anything.”
But Ben shouted, “I am a man of my word like my father before me!”
Ackley and Barlow began to rise, but Reynald pushed them back. He barked a laugh. It sounded high, like a yippy little dog. “These two were caught in my camp, disguised as royal messengers. Prince Ben claimed to be tracking a stolen unicorn. He threatened to tell you some made-up story about its scent leading him to my camp.”
“Unicorn? What unicorn?” the queen said.
“It’s not made up!” Twig said. “Your Majesty, we don’t know who this unicorn thief is, but he got through the passage to Lonehorn Island. He took Ben’s unicorn, Indy.”
“Twig!” Ben cried.
Twig hurried on before Ben could stop her, before she could lose her courage. “We think Indy got away from the thief, and now he’s in the Death Swamp. Your Majesty, please, you have to help us find him and then you have to change the lock on the passage door. We’ll go back to the island, and I promise I won’t tell anyone about this place.”
The queen’s eyes widened. She regarded Reynald. “You have been trespassing on my island?”
“Her island?” Twig whispered to Ben. “I thought she didn’t care about the island.”
Ben gave her a look. She could tell he was biting back his own outrage not only at Reynald, but at his mother’s claim. But Twig thought she understood. They needed the queen to care right now, even if it was only because of her rivalry with Eastland.
“Another false claim!” Reynald said. “And here I’ve journeyed all this way in order to meet with you and try to prevent war!”
“If the Prince of Eastland wanted to prevent war, he might have instructed his minions not to trespass on my territory, and especially not to steal my best unicorn right out of the castle stables.”
“And if the Queen of Westland wanted to prevent war, she might avoid such outrageous accusations!”
Twig could feel the tension rumbling beneath the silence that followed. She’d made a terrible mistake coming here. She didn’t understand this place, these people, the way Ben did. Who was she to try to give him advice? She should’ve known better. Please, she prayed. Do something. Help us.
***
Ben knew what he had to do. Not because he thought it was what his father would want. Certainly not because it was what his mother or brother would want. Not even because it was what he thought Twig or Merrill would want him to do. He’d cried out in his heart for help, for an answer, and now his heart was pounding with the truth. This time it was up to him. Stand up. Speak up.
He stood up. He opened his mouth, though he had no idea what to say. “What would be the point of war, Prince Reynald, when you cannot fully participate in it?”
Reynald narrowed his eyes at Ben, studying him.
“I have a proposition for you,” Ben said.
“I’m listening.”
“A chance to defeat me. A chance to get back at me and at my mother. A chance to prove yourself against a son of Westland. One of comparable age…and the son of the great Darian too.” Ben barely managed to
keep the emotion out of his voice as he said his father’s name. No, as he used his father’s name. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Ben wanted to beg his father for forgiveness, to take it back—but then he saw the look on Reynald’s face.
The spark of interest had bloomed into full-fledged hunger. Hunger for glory and for Ben’s blood.
“Ben!” Twig said. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to duel Prince Reynald—not just any duel—a duel of the flags, through the Death Swamp, just as in the old times.”
The Boy King said, “The victor will be remembered for generations to come.” From the look on his face, he had no doubt he would be that victor. And that was all he cared about. Ben knew this was a dangerous game he was playing. But it just might get Indy back, not to mention put off war with Eastland.
“A Death Swamp Duel?” Twig cried.
The same words were murmured around the table. A smattering of applause broke out among the group. But a look from Griffin sent hands back into laps before the queen could take note of who’d dared thrill to such an idea.
“Your son has offered to settle our dispute with a duel,” Reynald said. “We are of the same age. As fair a match as Westland can make.”
“You are willing to put your life on the line?” Griffin said.
Reynald grinned. “One death instead of thousands. I, too, care for my people and for unicorns.”
Ben resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
Griffin threw his chair back and stood over Reynald. “You are a brash little boy and a show-off! You want nothing but to be the one who killed Darian’s son, and not in battle, in a public spectacle! It’s ridiculous! It’s—”
“That’s enough, Griffin.” Ben moved quickly around the table to stand between them. He turned to Reynald. “As soon as I have my unicorn back, we can proceed with the duel.”
“Ben of the Island, you have a deal, but I know nothing about your unicorn. I suppose you’ll have to borrow another.”
The Unicorn Thief Page 10