A Royal Guide to Monster Slaying

by Kelley Armstrong

  I spend an uneventful night in a thicket, protected by Malric. Then I begin my hunt again. That morning I spot a grove that’s big enough to be what I’m looking for. I ask Malric and Jacko to stay where they are. Malric does. Jacko does, too, once Malric’s giant paw pins him to the ground.

  As I creep up on the clearing, my heart hammers. All those years ago, when I told my father and Jannah that I most wanted to meet a gryphon, it wasn’t entirely true. I wanted to see a gryphon. Hear one. Experience one. The beast I wanted to meet most, though, is very different. It’s the one I hope to find in this clearing.

  I sneak up downwind. Then I peer into the clearing and see…

  It’s empty.

  Well, not exactly empty. There are tall grasses. Wildflowers. A few small trees and bushes. A spring burbles into a glassy pond. A place of magic, with the sun dancing and the grasses swaying in the breeze, flowers perfuming the air.

  It does not, however, contain any monsters. I square my shoulders and tell myself I simply need to keep looking.

  When I call Malric, Jacko comes bounding through the tall grasses, the warg lumbering behind. I walk to the pond. We’ll enjoy an early lunch in this meadow before we resume our quest.

  Crystal clear water flows from an underground spring in the pond. When I stoop to fill my waterskin, Jacko’s frantic squeaks nearly topple me in again.

  He doesn’t leap on me this time. He’s hopping along the pond’s edge, squeaking. Malric snuffles the ground beside the jackalope, and the tiny beast leaps clear over the warg’s head in his excitement.

  “What is it?” I say as I walk over.

  I see the answer to my question. Prints in the soft ground at the pond’s edge. An animal has come to drink before us, one with dainty hooves the size of my fist.

  My heart leaps. Then it jams in my throat.

  I think I know what these hooves belong to. If I’m right, then it means this is the clearing I was seeking. It also means I’m too late.

  I hunker down to examine the hoof marks. The shape is wrong for a deer or mountain goat. These are equine. They aren’t horse, though, and certainly not unicorn. This is indeed the beast I came for…a beast that is no longer here.

  I touch the tracks, hoping they’ll be fresh. The edges are hard, long dry.

  I ease onto my haunches as my chest tightens. I’d told myself that the pegasus filly would still be in her clearing, a month after she kicked Wilmot.

  She is not.

  And I don’t know what to do now.

  This was my plan. Dain said Wilmot forbade him to come after this filly, and Dain agreed that he wasn’t ready for her. So this seemed my answer. I would find and tame the pegasus filly and then parade her back and prove myself to Dain.

  I am Clan Dacre. I should carry the ebony sword. I am worthy of Wilmot’s training.

  And now…?

  Now I want to cry.

  I want to cry, and I want to scream. I want to throw a tantrum and not care because there’s no one here to see me.

  Except there is someone here. There’s Malric, who already thinks I’m a spoiled little girl. And there’s Jacko, who seems to think I’m awesome, and while I doubt I’ve earned that, I don’t want to disappoint him.

  I crouch, hands planted on a rock, hair hanging in a curtain around my face as I take deep breaths. Then I scoop water and splash it on my face.

  Okay, so my plan failed. I need a new one. I have no idea what that will be but—

  A shadow passes over me. I hit the ground and roll, hand on my sword, images of the gryphon flashing before my eyes. Instead, a cloud floats down from the sky. Or that’s what it looks like. A wisp of white cloud settling on the far side of the meadow.

  It’s not a cloud.

  It’s a pegasus.

  The young winged horse lands with her back to us. I motion for Malric to keep Jacko away and slide onto my belly. When the pegasus lowers her head to graze, I creep toward her until I’m fewer than twenty paces away. Then I stop and stare.

  Two mornings ago, I’d paused to admire the beauty of that doe at the stream. This filly, though, is…incredible. I’ve seen paintings and illustrations of pegasi, but that’s like all the times I’ve seen a monster and tried to draw it in my journal, and I can’t quite capture what my eyes see.

  The filly’s coat is white as new-fallen snow. Her silky mane and tail and fetlocks are roan red. Her wings look like those of a gigantic dove, white with roan-red tips, folded delicately over her slender back. She’s much smaller than a unicorn. More finely boned than my mare. A creature made for speed and flight.

  Unicorns are very difficult to tame. Pegasi are said to be nearly impossible. Clan Dacre legends tell of two monster hunters who found and tamed one while it was young. The male hunter could never ride his—he was too big—but the woman could.

  I remember those stories, and I look at this filly, and I have never wanted anything so much in my life. She is alone, lost or abandoned, and I will take her. I will care for her, like I’m doing with Jacko.

  I back into the forest, so I don’t pop up like a gopher and startle her. Then I approach on foot, slowly, keeping my voice low as I speak. “Hello,” I say.

  She lifts her head with a whinny, and her wings unfold.

  “It’s okay,” I say as I stop, my hands raised. “I’m not going to hurt you. I want to help.”

  She dances in place, wing tips fluttering.

  I hold out my hand. “I’ve brought an apple.”

  I crouch and roll it to the side so she doesn’t think I’m throwing a rock at her. She still whinnies and stamps.

  “You’re alone,” I say. “I can help. This is a lovely meadow, but it’s in the middle of a forest full of monsters. It’s not safe. I’m sure you know that by now.”

  How much of this does she understand? Maybe none. I keep my voice soothing and encouraging. This will take time. I can’t ride out of here on her back today. She’s too young to be ridden at all. When we do leave, I’ll be leading her on a rope. But we need to build a trust first.

  I keep talking as I head to retrieve the apple, which she’s ignored. I pick it up and roll it through the grass to her…and she runs straight at me.

  I dive, hitting the ground. A whoosh and a whinny, and when I look up, she’s in the air.

  I lift my empty hands. “I won’t hurt you. Here, I’ll sit down. I’ll just sit and talk to you. That’s it. I’ll talk and—”

  She dives. It happens so fast I don’t even realize what she’s doing until I see those roan-red hooves streaking straight for my head. I roll out of the way and scramble up, my hands raised. She flutters back and lands, rearing now, her hooves flashing.

  “Okay. I’m leaving your meadow. I’ll stay outside it. Just let me—”

  She charges. I backpedal, stumbling over my feet. A squeal from my left. Jacko races through the long grass and launches himself at her.

  “No! Don’t—!”

  He lands on her back. She flies up with great flaps of her wings, and Jacko clings to her, squealing. She dives, and he tumbles, and I scream. Then he’s dangling from her mane, his claws tangled in it.

  The pegasus tosses her head, and Jacko goes flying. I race to catch him. He drops into my arms with such a thud that I stagger backward…and trip over Malric. The warg wobbles, and we fall on top of him in a heap.

  When I look up, the pegasus is gone. Malric shakes us off and stalks away, glowering over his shoulder. I smack the ground with my fist, hard enough to make Jacko jump, squeaking in alarm. That makes me take a deep breath, shaking off my anger.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, picking him up and hugging him. “I’m just mad at myself.” I scratch behind his antler prongs. “Are you okay?”

  He chirps and rubs his nose under my chin, purring. I cuddle him and then realize Malric is sitting there, watching me with baleful yellow eyes.

  “Sorry to you, too,” I say. “I was just trying…”

  Trying to fix this problem wi
th Wilmot. Failing to fix it.

  “We’ll get her,” I say. “I just need to be patient. I’ll win her over. I know I can.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  spend three days in that meadow, sleeping in a nearby thicket and returning from dawn to dusk. Yet I make absolutely no progress. I give the filly all my apples. I bring her tender young ferns. If I pile my gifts on a rock, she accepts them. But if I try to hand them to her, she doesn’t want them. If I toss them near her, she doesn’t want them. If I speak to her, no matter how soothingly, she flies off, like I’m a boring dinner guest who won’t stop talking. If I approach her, she flashes her hooves in warning. If I linger too long in her meadow, she charges.

  I’m tired, and I’m hungry. I ran out of food on the second day. I’ve been eating berries and drinking water whenever the pegasus flies off and I can get near her spring. I’ve caught one grouse and one squirrel, but I gave most of the meat to Jacko. Malric has been off hunting several times, and when he returns, the blood on his muzzle tells me he’s eaten, but he brings nothing for me.

  I can’t even win over this warg, and I’ve known him all my life. How will I tame a pegasus in a few days?

  On the third night, after finishing the filly’s sketch in my field journal, I drift off to sleep in the thicket. I’m dreaming when Jacko nuzzles my cheek. My eyelids flutter open, but it’s pitch black. I feel that nuzzle again. A velvety nose prods my cheek and then snuffles it. I shift…and feel Jacko against my stomach, his body rocking with deep snores. I go still, every muscle tensing.

  Warm air blows against my cheek. Then another prod, and I realize it’s not an affectionate nuzzle, but a sniff. Something is sniffing my face. Something is standing right over me.

  I slowly swivel my head and find myself looking into two big round eyes. I blink. The eyes blink. Mine adjust to the moonlight, and those eyes become reddish-brown, velvety and soft, with long lashes. The eyes pull back, and the nose comes at me again. A black nose on a long snout covered in white hair.

  The pegasus filly is right here. Standing over me. Sniffing me.

  I lift a tentative hand and touch her nose. Her nostrils flare, and her front hooves dance in place, but she doesn’t move. I stroke her nose and murmur under my breath. She nudges my hand, encouraging the attention, and my heart soars.

  I’ve done it. My patience has paid off. My kindness has paid off.

  I don’t see Malric. He must be off hunting. Maybe she was waiting until he left so she could come to me safely. The warg must frighten her. He’s a predator big enough to take down a young pegasus. I’ve been keeping him away from her, but it wasn’t enough. She needed him to be gone completely.

  I keep stroking her nose and telling her how beautiful she is, how good I’ll be to her. Then I reach into my pocket and pull out my last bit of food. It’s a carrot I’ve been saving for her. I hold it up, and she nibbles the end.

  She makes her way through the whole thing and her lips tickle my hand. I laugh. Her ears twist at that, but she doesn’t move away. She nudges my hand again, and I pet her. Then she rears. For no reason at all, she rears. Her hooves fly at my head, and I drop as fast I can, Jacko squealing as he’s startled from sleep.

  I hit the ground and roll, and when I come up, those hooves are right over me.

  She’s going to trample me.

  I roll again and then scramble to my feet. I grab Jacko and race into a part of the forest where the foliage is too thick for her to follow. She still tries. She charges and snorts…and another snort answers.

  It’s Malric. He’s tearing through the woods, a game bird in his mouth. He tosses his meal aside and barrels straight for the filly. She turns on him, her hooves flashing. He doesn’t stop. He’s charging right at her, and she’s reared up. She’s going to hit him. The second he’s close enough, those hooves will slam into his skull, like they did with Wilmot.

  I run and plow into Malric’s side. One of the filly’s hooves glances off my shoulder—the same one still recovering from the arrow. Pain sends me staggering. Malric lunges, and the filly turns tail and gallops back to her meadow. Malric follows just far enough to be sure she’s going. Then he returns to me.

  I catch my breath, pull out my sword and stomp toward the meadow. Ahead, I see the pegasus trotting around, shaking her mane, her head high. Proud of her trick. I stop there, seething.

  They say pegasi are gentler than unicorns. Kinder. More timid. They are not. They can play the role, but it’s a ruse, a deadly one. The filly came to me. She approached me. I was sound asleep, and she came to me and pretended to be won over. She let me pet her. She accepted the last of my food, straight from my hand. Then she attacked. One blow of those hooves could have killed me.

  I thought she came to me because Malric was gone. That’s true—she waited to attack when he wasn’t here.

  I slam my fist into a nearby tree. Pain jolts down my arm, and I don’t care. I kick the ground as tears of rage fill my eyes.

  I was kind. I was gentle. I was respectful and generous and patient. I gave her most of my food and went hungry myself, and this is how she repays me?

  I was too kind, too gentle. This isn’t how Jannah tamed Courtois. Pegasi and unicorns are pack animals, like horses. They only obey a strong leader. That’s what Jannah says. To tame a wild horse, people capture them and break them. Show them who’s boss.

  I wanted to win another way. Everyone says I have a special connection with monsters, and I wanted to persuade the filly rather than force her.

  I tried to be nice and that failed. I will no longer be nice.

  I grab rope from my pack. Then I take out a needle and fill it with sedative. I’ll knock her out, and then after she’s roped, I’ll give her enough to keep her docile as I lead her to Dain.

  It’s not what I’d wanted, but she’s left me no choice.

  The trick, of course, will be sneaking close enough to inject her. Then I have to get out of the way before she attacks. She will attack. If you punch a needle into anyone—human, animal or monster—it’s not going to be happy.

  Inject, flee, hope the sedative works. Then hope it keeps working long enough for me to bind her.

  It won’t be easy. Jannah always said more hunters died trying to sedate a beast than fighting one. Which is why we don’t run around armed with a needle instead of a sword.

  I retreat into the forest with Malric and Jacko. I let the filly think we’ve given up and gone home. Then I climb a tree so I can see into her clearing, and I wait.

  It takes half a day, but finally the filly falls asleep. I circle downwind through the forest. I ask Malric and Jacko to stay behind, but even Malric refuses. He lets me go on ahead, though. When Jacko tries to jump onto my shoulders, Malric grabs him by the nape of the neck and carries him. Jacko chatters and grumbles, but thankfully, he soon goes limp and lets himself be carried.

  To stay downwind, I need to come up alongside the filly. I creep as quietly as I can, stopping every few paces to listen. I watch her ears. If they so much as flick, I’ll retreat. They don’t. Soon, I’m close enough to smell her, a clean smell like newly harvested hay.

  I ready my needle. I know where to aim. Hit her in the flank, and then back away fast.

  Two more steps. Lift the needle—

  The filly jumps to her feet. She spins so fast that I know she was faking sleep.

  She wheels and rears. One hoof hits that sore shoulder again. I stumble, and I see another hoof coming straight for my head. My arm flies up. Her foreleg is delicate enough that I knock it off course.

  As I scramble out of the way, she comes at me again. This time, she grabs my tunic in her teeth and whips me off my feet.

  Jacko squeals. He leaps onto her back and digs in all four sets of claws. She rears up but doesn’t release me. Malric snarls. He’s trying to lunge, but she’s moving too fast.

  The filly whirls me around. I see her haunch, a wall of white, and I thrust the needle in. I hit the plunger but only get it half-dep
ressed before she throws me.

  I land hard on my rear. The filly wheels to charge. Then she stops. Her eyes go wide and roll. She bucks, kicking, and the needle falls out, but she keeps twisting until she starts to stumble. She rears…and nearly topples over. Then she stands there, panting, breath streaming into the chilly air as her eyes continue to roll.

  She has no idea what’s happening to her. And she’s terrified. I see that look in her eyes, and I feel like one of those hooves struck me in the stomach.

  The filly staggers back. Her tongue lolls. Then those long wings unfurl.

  “No!” I say, rushing forward.

  She stumbles but manages to lift off, her hooves skimming my head. Then she screeches. A screech of absolute panic and fear. I wheel as she crashes to the ground, the earth shaking under me.

  I run to her. She lies there, legs splayed and bent, her head drooping. She’s still awake, breathing hard, those beautiful eyes wide.

  I reach her, and she doesn’t move. Doesn’t even seem to know I’m there. She just keeps panting.

  I could capture her now. The looped rope hangs from my belt, lariat tied. I could slip it over her head, and she’d be too weak to fight.

  The thought makes me sick. Makes my gut seize so hard I double over. I look at her, confused and terrified and panting, and then I can’t see through my tears.

  What have I done?

  Gotten angry, that’s what. I got angry, and I lashed out, and I swore to take her by force. Why? Because she wouldn’t let me take her nicely. Because she resisted me and tried to drive me off.

  I can say I only meant to help her, but that’s a lie. I wanted her so I could prove myself to Dain. And I wanted her…well, because I wanted her.

  That is wrong. It’s disrespectful and unforgivable.