A Charm for a Unicorn

by Jennifer Macaire

  "I was a fool to let myself be talked into this,” he said, dodging the powder puff Ann tried to pat on his cheeks. “I will not put anything on my face. Leonie doesn't use make-up; why should I?"

  "She has charm,” said no-nonsense Ann. “You need lipstick and rouge."

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  Chapter Seventeen

  A Prince in High Heels

  Leonie transformed herself into a horse. She was the most beautiful horse Sylvain had ever seen; dapple gray, with big brown eyes and a sweet expression. But she was a horse; he wasn't in love with her. Her father told him that Leonie's charm disappeared when she was transformed.

  "I can't get used to seeing you as me,” said Leonie. She swished her tail and neighed.

  "It's not any easier getting used to a talking horse with charm,” said Sylvain. He patted her nose.

  "I won't talk at all when we get to Sir Wulfe's castle."

  "Will your father come with us?"

  "No, he doesn't want Sir Wulfe to know he's back in his own form."

  "Good excuse.” Sylvain stepped backward and tripped when his heels tilted. Luckily he still had his reflexes, and managed to catch himself before he fell. “I make a clumsy prince."

  "Princess,” corrected Leonie. “It's funny, but I have the strongest urge for a carrot."

  "Right. Well, I'll go get you one. Can I wear pants and boots for the trip? Please?"

  "No. We'll take a whirlwind anyhow so we'll be very close. You won't have to spend much time as a girl, or walk very far.” Leonie twitched her ears. It was not as interesting being a horse as it had been being a unicorn. Horses tended to think about food a lot. They also had gas. Her stomach rumbled.

  "I really don't see how girls can move in these clothes,” Sylvain complained. He hitched up his skirt and tramped up the stairs in search of a carrot. “Be right back."

  "Take your time,” said Leonie. Her stomach made more interesting noises. She looked at it, sighed, and swished her tail a bit, to practice acting like a horse. Her father had been astounded when she transformed herself. No one in his memory had been able to transform themselves. She hadn't truly appreciated just how powerful she'd become in that short time spent as a unicorn. But she supposed that the power had always been there, dormant, just waiting for the right moment to appear. If only she could use that power to wipe out the wild magic charm that made it impossible for her to live with people.

  She knew why her mother had wanted to stay in Castle Veil. It must have been exasperating always having men falling in love with her, but at least her mother had known that her husband loved her, and not because of magic.

  But she'd always wonder if Renaldo had fallen in love with her or with her charm. She would never know, and that hurt terribly. It hurt, because she'd fallen in love with him. It was silly, and puerile, and just went to show how little she knew about the world. How can you fall in love with someone after just one kiss? It might not be true love, but it hurt anyway.

  Head drooping, she went into the stable and lay down in a thick bed of hay.

  * * * *

  That evening, everything was ready. Sylvain packed some dresses in a saddle bag and put everything on Leonie's back, and patted her nose. He really couldn't help it. She had such a soft, velvety nose.

  "You're going to rub all the fur off it,” said Leonie. She called forth a whirlwind, and as before, it appeared gently and quietly, and hardly stirred the dead leaves in the courtyard.

  Bob, who'd come prepared with rake and broom, raised an approving eyebrow. Sir Casper, Ann, and Cook waved as they lifted off the ground. Sylvain tried not to think of aching feet, or how many tangles the whirlwind was putting in his long hair. It would have to be combed out again, and that hurt.

  "Don't you look lovely,” said Leonie, and gave a very horsy laugh.

  "I can't believe I let myself be talked into this,” said Sylvain for the hundredth time. He tried to heave a sigh, but his dress was laced too tightly in the back, and he could hardly draw a full breath. “Your dress is too small for me,” he complained.

  "It fits perfectly. Mistress Dawn is an excellent seamstress. Now be quiet. We're arriving. Don't talk to me anymore, and remember to act shy. Keep your eyes downcast, give a few miserable sniffs. Act as if you regret running away."

  Sylvain thought that was good advice, and gave a few practice sniffles as he led the beautiful horse down the graveled road to Sir Wulfe's castle. Several carriages were parked in the courtyard, and he recognized his mother's royal crest emblazoned on one door. What was she doing here? She must have been invited to the wedding. He wanted to ask Leonie what she thought, but before he could, the front door opened and Sir Wulfe stepped out. He narrowed his eyes, and Sylvain, mindful of Leonie's advice, lowered his chin and hunched his shoulders in the warm cloak he wore, trying to look both contrite and humble.

  "Well, this is a surprise,” the wizard said. “How is it you're no longer a unicorn? Explain, Leonie!"

  That hadn't been part of the script. Sylvain could think of no good reason he was not still a unicorn. He decided honesty was the best policy. “I have no idea,” he said.

  Sir Wulfe snorted. “Still the same, bird-brained Leonie. Well, never mind. The spell must have worn off. Where have you been?"

  "I—I went into the forest and then I went back to Castle Veil. But Ann is all alone, and Father is a snake. Ann said you'd transform him after the wedding, so I came back.” His hands shook. Sir Wulfe hadn't scared him before, but now, with this weak body, he felt terribly vulnerable.

  "It's a good thing you showed up when you did. The wedding is organized. We have guests of honor, too, the Queen of Windtide and her son, Renaldo."

  "Renaldo?” Sylvain didn't have to act. His jaw nearly dropped and he caught it just in time. What were Renaldo and his mother doing here?

  "Yes. Renaldo,” Sir Wulfe snarled. “I'm glad I didn't have to come after you myself. I would have been very angry if I'd had to waste time and come looking for you in the forest. Not that a unicorn glade would have escaped me for too long, but I have better things to do. You will go to your room and prepare yourself to meet the two princes of Querel. The princes and their father will be here tomorrow."

  "Tomorrow?” Sylvain echoed. He frowned. “What about my father?"

  "Once you've done my bidding, and met with the princes, I will change him back. Now, go, before I lose my temper."

  "What about my horse? Sylvain asked.

  Sir Wulfe seemed to hesitate, his gaze lingering on Leonie longer than Sylvain thought necessary. Then Leonie raised her tail and let drop an impressive pile of manure. Sir Wulfe stepped backward, his face wrinkling in annoyance. “You know where the stables are! Leave the beast there and tell the groom to come clean up this mess!"

  "Yes, Sir Wulfe.” Sylvain tugged on the reins. As quickly as he could walk in his high heels, he led Leonie to the stables where he handed her over to the groom standing impassively by the door.

  "The boss wants you to clean up the courtyard,” he said, jerking his thumb at the pile of manure, before realizing how unladylike it was.

  Then, trying to walk more delicately, he trudged back to the castle, and, holding his skirt out of the way, climbed the stairs and pushed the heavy front door open. The hallway and staircase were empty. Sylvain made his way up the stairs. In Leonie's room, he took a step toward the window chair. He caught his heel in the back of his skirt and tripped. There was an awful ripping sound, and part of the lacy hem came off. He picked it up and tossed it in the fireplace. He was going to change dresses, but at that moment, the door opened and Sir Wulfe strode in. “Leonie, Prince Renaldo wants to see you."

  Sylvain rubbed his hands together nervously. “Will I be able to see him alone?"

  "Yes, otherwise he may be inclined to think you're being forced to say things you don't want to. I'm depending on you to make him believe you want to marry me. Your father's well-being depends on you being convincing. Follow me."


  Sylvain hiked his dress up and tottered after Sir Wulfe. He'd been looking forward to taking the shoes off and perhaps unlacing the tight stays ... now he had to pretend to be his brother's beloved. If things weren't so grave, he might have laughed.

  * * * *

  Renaldo sat in a chair by the fire. When the door opened, he first thought it was a maid coming to bring him more tea. He'd never had so much tea in his life. Alone, practically prisoner, he could only rage against fate, or whatever it was that brought him so close to his enemy and left him impotent against him. But he had all the tea he wanted.

  His mother and he had arrived last night at Sir Wulfe's castle, and it had taken all his will power not to hit the wizard over the head with one of his crutches when they met. He remembered the recruiter's words about not giving into rage and taking revenge on the one who'd injured him. He managed to control himself.

  Sir Wulfe had apologized most sincerely for having caused him such grief. He also hinted that taking part in a war that didn't concern him had stirred up considerable trouble between the two princes of Querel, and that luckily everyone believed his version of the tale—that he hadn't chosen sides and that he'd been pressed into service. Sir Wulfe had been icily polite, and managed to twist everything around so that it seemed it was all Renaldo's fault for trying to run away with the magician's betrothed.

  Afterward he'd been shown to a truly luxurious room, and he'd stayed there ever since, pleading fatigue when the summons to dinner came. He didn't think he had enough diplomacy in him to spend an entire meal with Sir Wulfe and his mother in front of Leonie. Feigning exhaustion was easy. His very bones ached with the strain of being near the man who'd caused Leonie and him so much grief. Leonie! If only he could see her. But his mother had been firm. He was to stay in his room and not move. Leonie would come to see him in all good time. But it had been two days now, and she still hadn't come to see him!

  His mood was as bleak as the view from his window. Sir Wulfe's castle was built on the shores of a lake, whose black waters ruffled in the never-ending wind. White swans scudded across the surface, but they were half wild, and stayed near the tall reeds on the sides of the lake. The castle was made all of granite and slate. Noble material, but stark and cold. The multi-paned windows were small, and let in scant light. Heavy curtains blocked the cold, but made the rooms even dimmer. Candles burned in pewter holders. A fire burned in his chimney as well. But the firelight didn't succeed in making the room any cheerier. Instead, the puddles of yellow candlelight just made the shadows seem even deeper.

  And so, when the door opened, his first reaction was one of annoyance. More tea? He opened his mouth, meaning to tell the maid to stop bringing pots of tea. He hadn't even finished the last one. It sat, growing tepid, next to him. But it wasn't the maid. Leonie stood in the doorway, a funny smile on her face that brought to mind someone else. “Leonie!"

  She rolled her eyes, a strangely familiar grin on her face, but she became serious when Sir Wulfe appeared, towering above her. He pointed at Renaldo. “She has something to tell you. I'll leave you two alone now. When the water clock strikes the hour, I'll be back to fetch her."

  He shut the door behind Leonie. She scratched her nose, then, hitching her skirt up to her knees, she tottered to the chair facing his and sank into it with a sigh of relief. “These shoes are killing me,” she said.

  Renaldo felt his heart beating in his throat. Not a word about his leg. No “Hello, I've missed you,” or even a “What happened to you?"

  Instead, she poured herself a cup of tea and gulped it. “I was thirsty,” she said.

  "I've been waiting for two days for you to decide to come see me. Why have you waited so long?” Renaldo asked, and his voice betrayed him by breaking. Furious with himself, he grabbed his crutches and stood.

  The color drained out of her face. Slowly she raised her eyes to his. “Renaldo.” Her lips hardly moved. She looked stunned. The cup she held tilted, and cold tea poured out on her lap. She didn't even glance down.

  "Didn't you know? Didn't Sir Wulfe tell you what happened to me? Are you going to tell me you love him now, or are you going to just sit there and sip tea as if on some stupid social visit?” The words came out as sharply as ground glass, but he couldn't stop them, just as he was helpless to stop the tide of fury that suddenly washed over him.

  "What happened to you?” Her face had gone bone white.

  He told her about the war and about the battle that lost him his leg, and about waking up in a hospital and finding out his beloved was engaged to be married to the wizard who'd spirited him away.

  She didn't react like he thought she would—with tears and protests. She looked at him unflinchingly, as if searching deeply into his soul. Silence stretched between them. He couldn't drop his eyes, even though he knew his eyes were betraying him. His eyes were pleading with her. Don't leave me. Don't tell me what you've come to say. I love you. Her expression was shuttered. He couldn't read her thoughts at all.

  She moved her head, the tiniest of movements, but it broke the thread between them. Color came back into her cheeks and she dropped her gaze to the spilled tea. “I've made quite a mess."

  He didn't know if she spoke of her dress, or their relationship. “Do you love him? Do you love Sir Wulfe? Were you just playing with me?” Renaldo couldn't help the questions. He had lost what little control he had over his emotions. They battered him. He felt as if he were drowning again, except here there was no floating spar to save him.

  "No, of course I don't love him, and I wasn't playing with you.” She hesitated, then said, “I had no idea where you had gone. I didn't know you were fighting in the war. Why did you enlist?"

  "I didn't enlist!” he cried agitatedly. Forgetting his missing leg, he stepped toward her, nearly lost his balance, and grabbed at his crutches. “It was join or die, and once I had joined, it was impossible to leave."

  "But, all you had to say was your name!” Her voice held reproach, but not the kind he expected.

  "Your Highness, may I speak?” It was the mouse. He had been curled up in an empty teacup on the mantle, and now he climbed out of it and bowed to Leonie. “Pleased to finally meet you, Lady Leonie. I've heard much about you."

  She glanced at the mouse, her expression startled. “Who are you?"

  "I'm a powerful magician,” said the mouse. “If someone can undo the spell I'm under, I can save you both."

  "That would be nice.” She hesitated, then said in a low voice, “Why don't you go to the stables? There is someone there who may help you."

  Renaldo frowned. “The stables? Don't you mean Sir Wulfe? He's already tried to break the mouse's spell. He was infuriated when he couldn't. Although he tried to hide it, I could tell he was vexed."

  "Just go to the stables. And speak not a word to anyone else. Will you do that?” Leonie asked the mouse.

  Renaldo watched Leonie. She looked the same, she had the same hair, the same eyes, the same fingernails ... But somehow she'd changed. Well, he'd changed too. He'd been through battles. He felt his anger leaving him. It was like a wave slipping off a beach leaving behind flotsam and jetsam made up of the past months bitter memories.

  He hopped to the chimney and took the mouse out of the cup. Setting him on the floor he said, “Run along to the stables. Leonie wants to talk to me alone."

  "Yes, that's more like it,” said the mouse. He twitched his whiskers. “For a minute, I really thought there might be someone there to help me. Well, joke's on the mouse."

  Leonie pointed at the door. “If I were you, I'd go to the stables and I'd ask a dapple gray horse if she could spare a few oats."

  "Right, right. Everyone is a comedian.” The mouse slipped under the door and left.

  Renaldo turned and sat. Leaning forward, he took Leonie's hand. “You better hurry, your time here with me is almost over,” he said with a nod toward the water clock.

  "I've come to tell you something, but I don't want to say it,” sh
e said.

  "Have you come to tell me you don't love me anymore? Look at me. Can you look me in the eye and tell me that?"

  She didn't answer him. Instead, she said, “Do you still feel the same about me? We only knew each other a moment, and there are things happening around us that we cannot control. Search your heart carefully. I need to know the truth."

  He studied her face. He felt as if he'd always known her. “I still feel exactly the same about you."

  "Are you sure?” Her brows knitted in a frown.

  "Positive. Leonie, the first time I set eyes on you, you were wet and bedraggled, you were spitting water, and there were weeds in your hair. Your nose was running, your eyes were swollen, and the most I can say is that you were not a very charming sight."

  "I wasn't charming?” Her frown grew deeper.

  Renaldo hoped her scowl didn't mean she hated what he was saying, but he couldn't stop now. Somehow, he had to convince her. “Something happened that day. I think it's called love at first sight."

  "There's no such thing."

  "It's in all the fairy tales, so it must exist. I fell in love with you, Leonie. When I was in the ship, during battle, every minute, actually, I thought about you. I thought about you in the hospital. And even when I thought I'd never see you again, I still loved you.” There. He said it. Now she would stand up, tell him he was ridiculous, and leave.

  She gave a deep sigh and shook her head. His heart stopped. This was it then. There was nothing left for him. He'd go back to Windtide and rule, but the throne next to him would remain empty. No one could ever take her place.

  The water clock struck the hour and the door flew open with a loud crash. Sir Wulfe strode in, seized Leonie's arm, and dragged her out of the room.

  "I love you!” Renaldo cried, dropping his crutches in his haste to reach her. He fell, knocking over the table. The teapot fell and shattered. The door slammed shut. Nothing mattered any more. Leonie was gone. What could possibly be worse?