“No fairies,” I promise and tug him back toward the castle. “We can’t keep avoiding the party. Your lady love awaits.”
Irving groans. “Protect me from her.”
“I’ll do my best.”
The prince escorts me through the doors, but as soon as we pass into the hall, I’m cornered by Aunt Camilla. Like a tiger, Giselle sidles next to Irving the moment he’s free.
He flashes me a mock horrified look, and I’m forced to hold back a laugh so Camilla doesn’t launch into a lecture on proper decorum. Amused, he grins at me over his shoulder as the she-tiger drags him away.
Butterflies flutter in my stomach, making me feel giddy…and then I’m flooded with horror.
What if Milly is right? What if we can’t help who we fall in love with?
If so, I might be doomed.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Why does Irving get to go with you, but I can’t?” Milly’s hands are on her hips, and her pretty face is scrunched with hurt as she stares my brother down.
Barowalt swallows, uncomfortable. He’s not overly fond of female displays of emotion. “Milly—”
“Don’t ‘Milly’ me!” She blinks quickly. “You drag me along with you, but you never explain what it is we’re doing.”
I edge toward the door, not sure I’m needed for this particular argument.
A maid clears her throat from behind me. “Prince Irving of Primewood has arrived, Your Highness.”
“Oh, good.” I duck out of the room, hurrying toward the entry hall.
Irving waits for me, dressed in light mail and a tunic. He studies a tapestry. His back is to me, and I pause, letting my eyes wander over him.
Too quickly, hearing my footsteps, Irving turns. His face lights in a smile when he sees me. “I was afraid you may have left for your secret meeting without me.”
“You’re late,” I say.
Irritation flashes across his face. “Giselle cornered me in the stables on my way out.”
“It must be very tiresome to have such an attractive woman fawning over you. Of course—it’s nothing you’re not used to, right?” My words have bite to them, but I attempt to soften them with a wry smile.
The prince gives me a knowing smirk and steps forward. “Jealous, Princess?”
“No,” I lie.
Not believing me, he shrugs one shoulder, that irritating look still on his face.
“Were you expecting to go into battle?” I ask, changing the subject.
Irving has a sword at his side, and he wears a bow and full quiver on his back.
Patting the sword, he says, “It’s good to be prepared.”
“You shouldn’t need them tonight.”
“If you weren’t being so cryptic about the whole thing…”
I turn from him, worried this is a bad idea. What was I thinking?
Barowalt strides into the hall, followed by a smug-looking Milly. I raise my eyebrows at her, silently asking if Barowalt gave in.
Biting her lip, holding back a bright smile, she nods.
First Irving and now Milly. Barowalt looks agitated, and I can tell he’s already doubting the wisdom of his decision.
“We need to leave,” my brother says as he steps through the front.
Irving, Milly, and I follow. The knights are waiting for us, and they already have my horse saddled. Barowalt calls for someone to prepare Milly’s mare, and Keven rushes to the stable.
No one questions Barowalt’s decision to bring Milly. Like they always are on these nights, our elite are nervous, edgy. I, too, am having trouble staying still, and my muscles ache with impatience.
The full moon crests the horizon, alerting us the time is near.
“Nervous?” Barowalt asks from my side as we ride from the villa.
“Eager.” I roll my shoulders.
Now that Milly has secured a place in our group, she looks wary, unsure what it is she’s riding into. Irving, too, is quiet.
We ride through Ptarma’s lush countryside, through vineyards and patches of forest where heat-hardy evergreens grow. The moon continues to rise, reminding us to hurry. Asher leads us, more familiar with the path than we are.
After almost an hour of riding, we turn onto an overgrown trail. The valley we emerge into isn’t hidden, and there’s nothing particularly unique about it other than it’s the most uninhabited area of Ptarma. We descend the winding cliff path, but the clearing is empty.
My eyes scan the trees near the edges of the meadow, and I grow anxious.
Finally, there’s a flash of white in the brush. As it always does, my breath catches when I see them, but this time, my joy is tempered with relief.
The creatures glisten in the moonlight, whiter than the ivory cliffs, more spectacular than the ribbons of lights that color the sky on cold nights in the far north.
Just in front of me, on the rocky trail, Irving tenses. He stares at the creatures, disbelief evident in the forward angle of his head and the tilt of his shoulders as he leans forward to get a better look.
Behind me, Milly gasps.
When the trail widens, I ride ahead. Asher pulls his horse to a halt, allowing me to pass. He dismounts and offers his hand, taking my horse when I’m to the ground.
I step forward, hesitant. I don’t know this blessing well, and I’m not sure they’ll remember me.
Cautious, a female steps forward, her mane flowing behind her in an invisible breeze. She stretches her neck up and gently rests her muzzle over my shoulder.
Very few people having seen the creature, and most picture a white horse. This creature—this unicorn— is sleek, petite, and graceful as a deer. Her ears are large and her mane is silk. Where a star often marks a horse, a horn grows from her forehead and glistens like mother-of-pearl.
There’s something terrifying about them, something painfully humbling, as if you’ve stumbled onto a creature so beautiful, human eyes were never meant to see them.
The mare is cool to the touch and smells like sun-warmed wildflowers. I close my eyes, stroking her mane. Like a cat, she leans toward me, sweet and gentle.
With my hand still on her coat, images float in my mind, like daydreams but in disconcerting detail. Some are hers, some are mine. She shows me a memory of my father bringing Mother here for the first time, and then several times after that with Barowalt and eventually with me as well. I see the joy on my mother’s face the day I was born, father’s laughter when Barowalt and I were learning to spar when we were tiny…the way they hugged me the morning of that fateful day.
By the time the unicorn is finished, tears roll down my cheeks, and my shoulders quake.
She nudges me, not understanding my pain.
Unable to help myself, I cling to her, lying against her smooth, sweet-smelling coat.
Another memory assaults me, this one causing me to gasp. Her brilliant luster dulls. The fear radiating from her is physically painful, and I grit my teeth, fighting it. The blessing’s sudden loss plays through my mind—the night a shadow stole amongst their numbers, leaving a multitude lifeless, gone—as empty of magic as albino deer…their beautiful, sweet gift lost to a vapid void of darkness.
Behind her, the others of her kind darken, reliving the memory with her.
Because we are linked, several of the knights gasp, feeling the pain as it were their own. Milly and Irving look about us, shocked, their mouths agape with confusion.
Barowalt clenches his eyes shut. He grasps the hilt of his sword, and his muscles tremble.
Then, slowly, the pain subsides.
I gasp a breath and turn to Barowalt. “What was it?”
Shaken, he shakes his head. “I don’t know.”
My mind travels back to the rumors of the dragon in southern Ptarma. Grace said there were reports of a shadow. Now more than ever, I’m convinced the incidents are related.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, stroking her nose.
She nuzzles into my palm, and slowly her brilliance returns.
“It was if they had no warning,” Rogert murmurs.
The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. The unicorns are flighty, skittish, rarely seen and even more rarely hunted. The Order has done everything in our power to make the magical species nearly a myth. Very few believe they actually exist.
What is it we’re dealing with?
“We must find a safe place for you until we can discover what’s done this,” I whisper to her.
Though she doesn’t understand my words, she looks up at me with dark brown, trusting eyes.
Asher steps forward, and the unicorn shies away, nervous even though she can scent the unicorn magic clinging to him.
“My family owns land to the north of the island, not far from here,” he says. “It borders the sea, the pasture hidden by cliffs. We can take them there—keep them safe.”
“You wish to round them up, corral them like horses?”
There’s no animosity in my voice, but Asher winces. “I only wish to keep them safe.”
“Barowalt?” I ask.
My brother steps forward. “I visited Asher’s land the day before yesterday. It’s secluded and easy to protect. Once we’ve relocated the blessing, half the Order will stay to guard them. The others will track down the darkness that attacked.”
I don’t want to lead them from their valley—this is their home, where they’ve lived for centuries. The Ptarmish blessing is the largest group of unicorns in Elden. It’s familiar here; it’s what they know.
It’s also not safe.
“All right,” I finally say. “Now that whatever it is knows they’re here, I’m surprised it hasn’t returned.”
“They’ve been more reclusive than usual,” Asher says. “I tried to get them to show themselves several times after the attack—but they wouldn’t come out.”
My stomach knots. This is our fault. My fault.
Next to me, Asher looks pale. As horrible as I feel, he feels worse.
I glance over my shoulder, scanning my knights, trying to decide who should stay with the blessing and who will return to hunt for the shadow creature.
Milly catches my eye. She’s pale, appropriately awed. Irving, however, looks as if he thinks we’ve somehow played a trick on him, like he can’t—and refuses—to believe his eyes.
Curious, the unicorns push forward, sensing their magic on the knights. A brave young mare carefully makes her way toward Milly. Gently, the unicorn nuzzles Milly’s hand. Barowalt watches the silent exchange between the two, his eyes intent.
Whether he’s admitted to himself yet, it’s obvious to me. He’s just as in love with Milly as she is with him. He wouldn’t have brought her if he wasn’t.
Milly blinks several times, overcome. When she strokes the mare’s mane, the unicorn rubs against her hand. My friend grins, elated and almost near tears.
My attention, however, is on Irving. His eyebrows are narrowed, and he gives the mare who stood with me a suspicious look as she comes closer. She studies him, wondering why he’s not touched with magic like we are. He hesitantly strokes her nose. She tosses her head back, disliking being pet like a donkey.
Frowning, Irving pulls his hand back.
“We must hurry if we’re going to move the blessing before dawn,” Barowalt says from my side.
“If they’ll follow us.”
Barowalt crosses his arms. “They must.”
Slowly, I approach the unicorn who is now staring at Irving with a reproachful look on her face. She sees me, tosses her mane, and trots my way.
I lay my hand and her coat. “Come.”
Her magic tremors between us as she stretches it out. It swirls around us both, and understanding lights her dark eyes. I take two tentative steps back, testing the link, and she follows, fully trusting me to keep her from harm.
My stomach twists, and I scan the sky for danger. That innocent trust is a heavy burden.
I pass through the rest of the blessing, touching their coats, asking them to follow me. They wait, willing to follow. I gulp, terrified that leading them from their valley is a bad idea.
Barowalt gives me a reassuring nod, and I mount my horse. With Keven and Asher at my side and Barowalt and the remaining others at the rear, I lead the unicorns up the cliff and away from the shattered safety of their valley.
***
We lead the last unicorn onto Asher’s land just as the first of the sun’s rays lights the horizon. A half-hour ride took six hours while leading twenty-seven flighty, skittish unicorns. Even with the link, they darted this way and that, spooking at the slightest noise. It was like herding rabbits.
My nerves are frazzled, and my eyes ache for sleep.
Nearby, Hallgrave calmly attempts to convince a young male to enter the pasture gate, but the unicorn tosses his head and prances backward, refusing.
“Audette,” the knight calls. He’s as weary as I am, and no one bothers with titles or formalities now. “I need you.”
I step up to the unicorn and stroke him, trying to calm him. His eyes are huge, and he’s terrified of being closed in.
“It’s all right,” I say, hoping to strengthen the link.
Slowly, I back through the gate while speaking soothing nonsense to the beautiful creature. Though nervous, he follows.
With a reassuring thud, the pasture gate closes. The unicorns have gathered near the base of the cliffs, and the young male darts off to join them.
Barowalt rubs his forehead and calls Asher over. “The manor is empty, correct?”
Asher nods. “I sent the staff away on holiday as soon as I knew you were coming. There’s not so much as a gardener left.”
“And the horses in the stables?” I ask.
“They’ve been removed as well.”
Gathering the unicorns in the stable is a worst-case scenario in the event of an attack, but if we tried to pen them with common horses, I’m sure the vain unicorns would rather die.
What I’m about to ask of them is bad enough.
I approach the nervous blessing. They shift and paw, uncomfortable with leaving their valley and even more uncomfortable with being fenced in.
“You are safe here,” I reassure them, hoping they’ll understand. “But I need you to disguise yourselves.”
They blink at me.
Fighting a yawn, and working to hide my frustration, I step forward to touch the closest. “I need you to hide.”
In my mind, I imagine the unicorns, one by one, miraging into horses.
The unicorn I’m touching shakes her head, horrified. But I run my fingers through her mane. “It will keep you safe.”
One by one, understanding spreads through the group. They look indignant, but slowly, the blessing of unicorns becomes an unremarkable herd of various-colored horses.
I sigh. At least to those who aren’t looking for them, they are hidden.
The last thing we need is locals starting rumors of a unicorn farm on the northern region of the kingdom.
Exhausted, I turn away. Just as I begin to walk back to our group, I’m nudged in the back of the head. I turn, almost startled to see a very plain brown mare staring back at me. Now taller than I am, she playfully sets her muzzle on my head.
An image wisps into my mind of the horses running in the sunshine, grazing on the grass.
I wrap my arms around her neck. “Yes, it’s safe.”
Fluid and graceful, they trot into the light as the sun rises over the horizon. Finally content, they glisten in the morning’s first rays, and I bite the side of my cheek, worried there’s no way to disguise them completely.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The first thing I notice when I wake is the sunlight streaming through the window. Birds sing from the trees, not caring a bit that I didn’t crawl into bed until after sunrise. Next to me, Milly’s still asleep. I slip from the bed, careful not to wake her. She’s crabby on the best of mornings.
Asher’s estate is lovely but small, and Milly and I are sharing a chamber while we’r
e here. It makes me nostalgic for the times I would visit her family’s land for week-long stretches when we were young. We stayed up most of the night then, too. But instead of giggling into the wee hours of the morning and crashing onto a nest of blankets, we herded unicorns across the countryside.
Our younger selves would have been delighted at the prospect. My older self didn’t care for it.
I have a throbbing headache, my shoulders ache, and all I want is a cup of plain hot tea and one of the brackenberry scones that the kitchen maids make back home. I’ll settle for the tea.
After winding through the estate, I eventually find the dining hall. It’s an intimate room with a table large enough for twelve at most. Keven, Garran, and Hallgrave are already seated.
Keven looks up as I walk into the room, and he smiles. His light hair is tied back, and he looks just as handsome as usual. I, on the other hand, look like death.
“I didn’t expect you up so soon,” Barowalt says, worrying over me like I’m a delicate flower.
“We have things to do.” I sit next to Keven, who smiles in greeting. “Moving the blessing here is only a temporary solution. We must find the beast that attacked them, and soon.”
“Why hasn’t it attacked again?” Hallgrave asks.
I shake my head. I’ve been wondering the same thing.
Barowalt joins us at the table, and I wonder if it’s come to anyone else’s attention that there’s an absence of food.
My brother rests his elbows on the table and steeples them under his chin. “We’re either dealing with poachers…or there’s a darker force at work.”
The thought is sobering. Though we obviously don’t want poachers to hunt the unicorns, something or someone hoping to kill off the species altogether is worse.
Irving appears at the door, looking refreshed after his few hours of sleep. Apparently, he found time to shave, and though his clothes are as dirt-worn as ours, he managed to beat some of the dust from them.
I glance down at my gown, which was white yesterday. Now it’s splotched with mud, trail dust, and horse hair. There’s nothing I can do about it. When we left yesterday evening, I hadn’t planned on leading a mass unicorn migration.
Audette of Brookraven (The Eldentimber Series Book 4) Page 6