Ahead of us, the trees grew larger and further apart as the road narrowed. There was more sunlight in the spaces between trunks and I welcomed the happy sight. The daylight was once more the color it should be. My eyes adjusted to it so slowly, I almost missed the places that the shadows were still wrong. Slants against trunks that were too thick or too straight to be nearby trees. An occasional tree had more movement than the wind could possibly move a great oak.
Something was following us along the tree line. The horses could sense it too. Danger was chasing at our heels, herding us this direction like animals.
Anger grew in me hot and red, like liquid lava searching for a way out from an earthly prison. It filled the space where my magic should reside, erasing the emptiness, fueling me to an action I hadn't yet decided upon.
Thackery's horse shied to the left, unsettled by the scent of whatever was running parallel to us, matching our pace from behind the trees.
“Looks like we're taking the scenic route,” Thackery said, whipping the neck of his Friesian with his reigns. His mount ran faster and Juko jumped to follow without even a command.
Grass grew stirrup deep between some of the trees, staining our boots and legs green as we danced between them. Wind whipping at our backs, making it hard to hear if we were still being pursued or not.
I clung tightly to the line Thackery chose for us, though I wasn't completely convinced we weren't going around in circles. The grass seemed to swirl around us like a green whirlpool, making it impossible to tell where we'd been. The ground was uneven under the lush greenery, jolting me in the saddle as I gripped desperately with my legs.
Thackery pulled his Friesian into a fantastic sweeping arc. I wondered why. There was no enemy ahead of us. Then I realized he'd lost his way. All paths we came across now looked the same. Something was wrong with this forest. I wondered if we would ever find our way out of these woods alive. Each moment spent inside was one where I wasn’t looking for the Heart. Part of me dreaded finding it and facing my brother. For then he'd have to die.
“Do you know where you’re going?” I called after Thackery. I sounded winded, as though I'd been the one running instead of my horse. There was no place in the entire Western Wood to go.
“I’m not sure,” Thackery said as we slowed the horses to a walk. We seemed to have lost whatever had been chasing us.
“Are you sure that thing’s not still following us?” I asked, trying to hold my ragged breath and failing spectacularly.
“I don't think so,” he replied, “of course, I’ve been wrong before.”
So had I, so I couldn't fault him.
The path here was sandier, the grains of it were fine grit like white sugar. Small pieces flew into the air as we passed. All of the horses’ legs were covered in it.
“What is this stuff?” I wondered.
“You tell me,” Thackery sighed, “didn't your father make you study topography?”
Of course, I had, but maps and charts paled in comparison to real life. I glanced down at the soil, admiring the pretty way it caught the light—as though it was made of glass.
Oh.
I knew exactly where we were headed.
To Angel Lake, known as the Lake of Glass…
“Don't try and wipe it off,” Thackery told me, as I'd been about to do just that, “It just cut my hand. We'll have to find a creek and wash it off.”
A Creek shouldn’t be hard to come by this time of year, they'd still be flowing from the snowmelt in the mountains.
“I remember there might be a river that feeds into the lake,” I said. Pulling up an image of the map in my mind, I followed the deepest, thickest, lines of blue. One of them crossed a mountain range. I pointed to the ridgeline to the left.
“That way is too close to the border,” Thackery said flatly. “We wouldn't want to go there.”
I bit my tongue and listened, but couldn’t hear any flowing water. “We might not have a choice.”
“There’ll be refugees there, fleeing Spellshallow,” he said through clenched teeth.
I imagined the people we'd known our entire lives abandoning their homes. They'll come back if I restore the Heart, the voice inside my head soothed me. I hoped it was right.
“I have another idea,” he said, wrapping that aloof smile around his face like a mask. It didn’t convince me at all.
I sighed and clenched both fists tighter around the reigns. “Are you really going to make me ask?” The sand was starting to itch.
“Can’t you just trust me on this?” he replied, which made me immediately not trust him.
“No,” I said curtly.
He smiled. “Take a guess.”
Guess?
“This isn't a game, Thackery.” I said. It felt more like a funeral. “I’m sick of soldiers, trees, anything trying to kill me.”
“I know someone who might be able to tell us where Pieter took the Heart.”
I smacked him. “And you just thought to bring this up now?”
“You’re not going to like it.”
I wish I had a knife. “I haven’t liked anything that’s happened since you suggested you come with me.”
He stayed silent as I fumed behind him. It made no difference. It was only a matter of time before they found us again.
My jaw dropped as Thackery turned and we headed back into the Western Wood. “You were right, I don’t like this.”
“We’ll try and skirt the edges, her cottage is on the edge of the woods on the far side.”
Amazingly, nothing else tried to kill us as we took the long way around to Thackery’s mystery cottage. We even found a small stream to water the horses and fill our waterskins. The woman who opened the blue oaken door wasn’t holding a sword and looked like a middle-aged farmer’s wife. Maybe things were looking up.
“Thackery, you shouldn’t have come,” the woman frowned and smoothed her blond hair behind her. She wiped her hands on her apron as if she’d been baking.
“Ana, this is Princess Wren, heir to the throne of Spellshallow. Princess, this is Ana. She’s… an Oracle of sorts. Your husband’s not here?”
I didn’t miss the mild blush that caught Ana’s cheeks. So, Thackery must’ve had his fortune told a few times by this Oracle. I suppose she was pretty enough. If not older and too hippy.
“Your Highness.” Ana composed herself and gave me a curtsy. She turned to Thackery, “No, but he’ll be back soon. What do you want?”
I interrupted. “If you’re an Oracle, surely you must know.”
Ana folded her arms. “I know all the magic around me is fading and the Princess is wandering the woods. So either you stole the Heart, or you are looking for who did?”
“Ah, right,” I conceded. “Can you help us?”
Ana rolled her eyes. A very un-Oracle thing to do if you ask me. “I suppose I can try. Come inside.”
She stepped aside and escorted us into the most normal-looking cottage I’d ever been in.
“What’d you expect?” Ana asked, catching my look. “It’s not like I use a crystal ball or something.”
There were three chairs by the fire and Ana ushered us to them. “Do you have anything that belongs to the one you seek?”
Rummaging around in my bag, I pulled out the strip of fabric from Pieter’s doublet.
Thackery seated himself and looked on expectantly.
“That should do,” Ana said with a nod. Taking the fabric, she seated herself and took out a sewing needle.
“Are you going to knit me a scarf?” I asked sarcastically.
“Not quite,” Ana said with a scowl.
I watched as the Oracle lifted her skirt to expose a leg covered in thin scars. She ran the needle over her leg, pressing hard enough to draw a thin line of blood. Then Ana held the fabric on it, until it was stained with red. Leaning back in the chair, she draped the bloody cloth over her eyes and began to hum.
I looked at Thackery. “Are you serious?”
“S
hh,” Thackery hissed. “You’ll break her concentration.”
We didn’t have any other options, so I decided to see how this played out. I must have dozed off, because suddenly Ana was tapping me on the shoulder.
I yawned. “Well, did you find it?”
All of the humor had drained from Ana’s face. “I’m sorry, you’ll never get it back.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “We have to try, no matter what. Where is it?”
“He has it,” she replied. “Hashir the Collector.”
Chapter 4.
Calen
The servicewomen hadn't come down yet. It was probably because a fight had broken out between some of the more impatient patrons. I looked over the remains of the noon meal spread across two tables. They flanked both sides of the redwood door that was the only way in or out of the room. The meager fare had been picked clean by a crowd of worthless vagrants, cutthroats, and drunkards—and me, though I suppose I was all three.
A fistfight was no cause for concern, the local muscle paid to keep things orderly let you have it out so long as you didn't cause any excessive property damage. Most of the furniture was cobbled together from repaired and splintered wood anyways, so even that could get a little fuzzy.
The alehouse was narrow and long. Crooked steps led up to the second floor where anyone with coin could find a disreputable lady to relieve them of it. A cloudy mirror hung on the back behind a rough bar that looked like it had seen too many knife fights.
I was a favorite among the female employees of this particular establishment. They doted on my every word and loved to pass on small tidbits of information their customers let drop. Sometimes it even proved useful.
My silver hair caught the light, and I paused to consider the reflection. A handsome face with a strong jaw looked back—it was difficult not to notice the cheeks were a bit sunken in below the eyes. A hazard, of my newfound liquid diet. Though still blue, my eyes were rimmed with a line of red. That should improve with time. You couldn't make the whole ocean crimson just by spilling a little blood.
Alcohol was the only thing that seemed to help. Nothing else could silence the bone-deep ache I felt inside. The barkeep placed a glass of amber liquid precisely two fingers from the edge of my left hand. He didn’t interrupt my brooding, silently filling my drink time and time again. I regarded the lanky man casually. His hair had grown longer and Lin had taken to tying it in a knot behind his head. Clean-shaven, with a friendly face that was not unpleasant or overly attractive. An easily forgettable face that blended in perfectly no matter where he was. Lin was a good bartender—surprising, since he was also a master assassin.
Catching my eye, Lin leaned across the counter, the modest grin not entirely masking a curiosity in his dark eyes I hadn't seen in some time. Not since I'd first come to the House of Glass the year before.
“Someone’s been asking about you,” Lin murmured under his breath.
My fingers twitched, the only reaction I gave.
The House of Glass was less house and more bar and brothel, which meant it had eyes and ears and an agenda that changed as frequently as the wind.
“Someone?” I asked.
That was a sticky point with me. Someone, I could handle, it was a special sort of someone that tended to interrupt the carefully crafted routine I had built here. Rolling my shoulders, my eyes ghosted across the others seated at the bar.
Lin nodded. “A mage, from a noble family. You should have seen the shiny pantaloons and nose pointed in the air. You'd have laughed.”
A mage was no laughing matter. That was the special sort I tried to avoid.
“So, this mage, is he going to be a problem?” I asked Lin. He'd turned his back to me, but I’d said it too loudly. I could feel the ears around me perk up…
“I think,” Lin said, polishing a glass, “that's very likely.”
I leaned closer to Lin. “And did this mage say what he wanted?”
Mages were a nuisance, particularly the more powerful ones. The only thing worse was one born of nobility.
Lin shook his head as he applied the rag to the hopeless bar top. “Just came to check on a rumor.”
My life was one big rumor and I did my best to shy away from anyone looking to spread it.
“You didn't see me,” I said, sliding a few red notes in his direction.
“I never do,” Lin replied, making the money disappear, “didn’t hear ya neither.”
Bartenders can be so wise. Or were assassins wise?
I eyed the man next to me. His boots were caked with mud and he had a dull look in his eyes as he pounded back drink after drink. Hired killer. My eyes bounced to a flash of red by the door. It wasn’t the mage though, it was a girl. Pale as a snowdrift in January with hair the exact shade of a hickory fire. She looked right at me, with the same expression that everyone has the first time they do.
“Is that him?” I heard her ask too loudly. The room fell silent.
She should have thrown a knife in my direction. Then maybe people would have ignored her.
“That's him,” a voice next to her said.
I put down my glass. It made a strange hollow clink despite still being partially filled.
“She’s back,” Lin said, dropping his towel.
“You never said it was a girl,” I said. So this girl was the mage.
“You never asked.” Lin retreated to the back under the guise of restocking the bar.
“Princess,” the drunken man next to me slurred, “What is her kind doing here?”
A princess mage?
That was something you didn't see every day, not in this realm anyway.
A man in the center of the room lurched to his feet. “Princess, is that you?”
“Markson?” The girl turned with a confused look toward the man. His balding head dipped in shame.
“Markson, what are you doing here?” she began, “—never mind, where is my brother?” She eyed the room carefully. This was, after all, no place for a lady.
“Gone miss, I... I left his service.” The haggard-looking soul straightened the strings on his tunic. They were lavender and gold, the colors of a Spellshallow personal guard.
“I've been with Pieter since he was just a baby miss, I never... I couldn't... but he did a terrible thing, Princess. A most despicable—and still I couldn't...”
The man began to cry in earnest. It had been a while since I'd let anyone else’s shame touch me. The clear remorse over abandoning his sworn duty was so sharp it made me remember my own. The other patrons made a show of going back to their drinks, while still keeping an ear open.
“We know that he took the Heart, Markson, no one blames you.” The girl tried to soothe him, but it was an ointment that wouldn't stick.
“We know everything, Markson,” said a tall man at the princess's side, “including about the Collector.”
The Collector... Hashir the Collector? That dung-pile of a man...
The killer at my side unfolded a small crossbow from beneath his shirt. I should have known. Who else would he be here to kill? I rushed to disarm him, but he turned and fired before I had the chance.
“No,” the Princess cried out as the bolt flew towards her heart. Somehow, Markson was fast enough. The man must have seen the killer take aim and threw himself in front of the Princess.
The girl hit her knees just as the body fell lifeless in front of her. Must’ve been a magicked poison to work that fast. Poor fool, trying to atone by trading his life for hers.
I wasn't in the habit of lending a hand, and I hadn't intended to start at that moment, but my life was built on things I never planned to do. Knocking the crossbow from the killer’s hand, I smashed his face with the back of my elbow. He fell back bloodied, but recovered faster than any normal man should have been able to.
In an instant, a poison-tipped hunting knife was in his hand and streaking towards my throat. I casually ducked under the blade. Grabbing his forearm, I snapped it in half an
d shoved the man’s own knife into his gut. His eyes met mine in surprise. Recognition of what I was finally dawned there and his face became fearful—then the poison took hold and he saw nothing at all.
Lin had somehow made his way upstairs and was hollering at someone, but I didn't pause to consider who that might be. I dashed across the room and paused in front of the broken little girl who knelt by the dead man like a child. Sparing not another glance for her companion, or toward the chaos that was erupting all around me, I reached out my hand to her. My cold fingers, tinged with blue and silver, took her small white hand in mine. For some reason she let me.
As our skin touched, it ignited a spark that made me feel alive again for the first time since that fateful day. It made me want to spread my wings once more, to run wildly through the forests. At that moment, I realized something. My horn and my cause may be lost, but I would always be a unicorn.
Chapter 5.
Wren
We were told all of the unicorns had fled our world, but that was a lie. Their legend was like a ghost story—told while hidden under the sheets. I never expected them to be real. When Thackery told me where we were going and what he thought we'd find there, I didn’t believe him.
Then that strange boy took me by the hand and led me out to meet my destiny. It was the strongest, softest, gentlest, most beautiful hand I had ever seen. Not exactly what I had expected. If we’d really found a unicorn, then I couldn't help but wonder what other secrets the world was hiding from me.
I’d often wondered about angels, but I couldn't imagine a creature more perfect than the one holding my hand now. His skin was white, and seemed to hum against mine. Like an exterior of soft down feathers holding back a glacier of black ice—keeping in check immense power.
I was mesmerized, not paying attention to my feet. Then I tripped. He caught me. Then the boy who wasn't a boy spoke.
“So Mage,” the unicorn said, with a voice spun from spider's silk and gold, “you've found me.”
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