by D. D. Miers
Gwydion sighed wearily. "At least you're moving. This way. Do not wander off. There's no sign of his teleportation spell here. He must have gone further out before he cast it to try and throw me off. But why would he risk that here of all places?"
I was barely listening to Gwydion and didn't understand why he didn't like it here anyway. He'd made it sound so dangerous, but it was the most wonderful place I'd ever seen. As we made our way through the trees, little pieces of magic revealed themselves to us between the leaves. An apple tree with bark of fine flaked real silver was growing near a clear stream, its wrought branches weighed down by fruit made of gold and diamond. A snake with scales of translucent emerald was draped across the branches, watching us with wise dark ruby eyes. It had one of those cute python puppy mouths that are so adorable, but Gwydion would not let me make friends with it.
Tiny women, no longer than my arm, swam through the stream, leaping like fish, glittering iridescent pink and lavender like the inside of a seashell, snapping their tiny sharp teeth at insects. I saw a field of white flowers growing, big as the palm of my hand, and in the center of each was a tiny golden bell. When the wind blew, they rang so sweetly that Gwydion had to yell at us to keep us from wandering off into them to lie down and just listen. Cole suggested we sing, which was such a good idea that I kissed him for it, and he turned red and started giggling and forgot his suggestion until Gwydion reminded him, as he pulled Ethan back from trying to lie in the flowers again, which were trying to wrap tender little green vines around his shoes, like they wanted him to stay. The only song we all knew the words to was Bohemian Rhapsody, and we sang it as loudly as we could at Gwydion's insistence, until we'd left the flower field behind and he begged us to stop. But we kept forgetting he'd told us to stop and starting again. It's such a good song, after all. We only finally stopped when he threatened to magic all our mouths shut and made us hide in a bush while a procession of walking trees strode majestically past.
By the time the parade of trees ended, I was finally beginning to regain my senses a little, enough to realize we were in trouble. Though I was still floating and very easily distracted, I was present enough to look back at the ridiculous shit we'd just wandered through and pale at the ridiculous amount of serious danger we'd been in, which I had just... not noticed.
"Those flowers had teeth," I whispered to myself, staring up at a perfect shard of blue sky through the leaves above us.
"Finally starting to come out of it?" Cole asked. We were still sitting in the bush. I hadn't noticed the thorns before now.
"I think so," I said, rubbing my head. "Sort of. Jesus, I haven't been this high since senior year."
"It's the air here," Cole said. "It's so thick with magic you can almost see it with the naked eye. That's why everything looks so..."
He made an ambiguous gesture, wiggling his fingers illustratively. I figured I mostly got his point.
"Thank the law." Gwydion reappeared, dragging a stumbling Ethan, who was smiling and clutching one of the bell flowers. "I was afraid you'd wander off. I had to chase this idiot all the way back to the meadow. I should have let them eat him. I would have every right!"
He was looking more than a little ragged, even through the magic haze that made him so ethereally lovely.
"I'm sorry," I said, climbing uneasily to my feet and helping Cole up. "I think I'm starting to come down."
"It'll probably take Ethan a while longer," Cole said. "He's not as used to magic as we are."
Ethan pressed the bell flower into my hands. I took it reluctantly, eyeing the hook-like backwards facing teeth that lined the inner trumpet.
"I got it for you," Ethan said, and he was so earnest and beautiful that I almost forgot the teeth completely. "I haven't given you anything yet. I need to give you things, so that when I'm gone you remember me."
He said this without a hint of regret or bitterness, which made it sting all the more. I started to say something, to insist that wasn't what was going to happen, but I didn't want to spoil his happiness. I knew he'd had little enough of it lately.
"Thank you, honey," I said instead and kissed him. "I promise I'll never, ever forget you."
Delighted, he picked me up and spun me around, showering my face in little kisses.
"Lovely," Gwydion said sarcastically. "Can we please keep moving? Gil's trail is only getting colder."
Sheepish, I made Ethan put me down, and we started walking again. I was definitely still pretty loopy, but having at least one foot more or less on the ground made it easier to appreciate the actually incredible things we were seeing, while also helping keep an eye on Ethan, and occasionally even Cole. Not that I was much better, getting sidetracked by a sunbeam that had caught in the air as though in a prism, shifting and glittering rainbows, or a nest of fanged, horned baby rabbits, which I realized a bit too late were being guarded by their equally fanged and horned parents. But at least now one of us was usually lucid enough to catch the other. Gwydion had serious potential as a professional cat herder.
And then Gwydion swept aside a curtain of hanging moss and all of us froze in place as though struck at the sight of what was on the other side.
A few yards away, grazing peacefully by a vernal pool, was a Unicorn.
It was, without exception, the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. I couldn't believe anyone had ever convinced people that it looked anything like a horse. It was an ungulate of some sort, clearly, but more like a large deer in proportions, with a somewhat goat-like head. It long tail was prehensile, like a cat's, and tufted at the end with the same silky silver white curls as its mane. Its eyes were stunning beyond my ability to describe. They were at once deep, dark, and infinitely intelligent, and also shimmering with a thousand colors, burning with inner light. Its horn glimmered with soft iridescence, like pearl or nacre, rising more than a foot from its brow to a point that glittered like a star.
"Is it…?" I whispered, my voice trembling. "Is it really—?"
"Yes," Gwydion said, putting out a hand to stop anyone from approaching. "Hush. Outside of the courts, there's no more dangerous thing in this place. We should back away slowly, try to go around."
"How can it be dangerous?" I asked, completely enraptured. "It's a Unicorn!"
"That's precisely why it's dangerous," Gwydion said impatiently. "They're primal forces— the concept of justice given form. If they sense the slightest shadow on your heart, they'll carve it out. They can't be fought or run from. Once they decide to murder you, nothing can stop them. They can even kill fae."
"That doesn't exactly sound like justice to me," Cole said, frowning. "Just summary murder for any crime? And what exactly do they define as a 'shadow' on your heart? Would it kill me if I felt guilty for forgetting my Grandma's birthday?"
"Don't be pedantic," Gwydion said, turning back to look at him. "I'm just saying, if you deserve to die, they'll know."
"Well, that's a bit different from 'if there's a shadow on your heart.'"
"Well, their judgment of who deserves to die tends to lean heavily towards everyone in my experience, so forgive me for waxing poetical."
"Well, then they're not Justice personified. Real justice doesn't ignore context."
I didn't hear Gwydion's reply because I was already halfway across the distance between me and the Unicorn. It raised its beautiful head as I approached, and I couldn't help but smile. I wasn't even thinking of the danger. All I could think about was that this was a real, actual Unicorn in front of me. Everything I'd dreamed about as a little girl, all the fantasy books I'd longed to escape into, came rushing back to me like a blow to the chest. I didn't realize how much I'd wanted this, this exact moment, all my life. If I could touch it, just once, I would die happy. The Unicorn, silent and perfect, turned slowly to face me.
I dimly heard Ethan start to shout my name, only to be swiftly muffled.
"We've got to do something!" Cole was saying. "It could kill her!"
"If we interrupt now," Gwydio
n replied grimly. "It definitely will."
I wasn't afraid. Who could be afraid in the presence of something like this? It took two slow steps towards me, its hooves ringing with every step though it walked on soft moss. I watched, awed and open, as it lowered its head, bringing its long, wickedly sharp horn to my chest. The point rested just above my heart. I thought, suddenly, as though compelled, about everything I'd recently felt guilt for. When Gwydion was hurt, after getting involved in this because of me. Putting Cole in danger for the same reason. When my neighbors had found the hole in their yard where their dead dog had been 'dug up by a mountain lion,’ even though said dog was now resurrected and living happily at my Aunt's house. Learning that my powers were accelerating Ethan's curse. When Ethan had nearly been killed protecting me from Aethon. Most any time I'd seen Ethan lately, honestly. If it weren't for me, he'd still have years left. I even felt guilty for making him stay with me. Selfish. Making him continue struggling even though he was afraid and in pain just because I didn't want to lose him yet. Making him watch me flirt with the men who would eventually replace him. I should have refused when he'd offered to open the relationship. I knew he was only doing it because he didn't want me to be alone. I should have turned him down when he'd first offered to help me with this. I should never have put him in danger. He deserved better than me. I was a necromancer, and whatever Julius said, I was never going to be able convince myself, let alone anyone else, that it was a purely innocent magic. I was full of something dark and evil, and I couldn't change it.
I sniffled, tears running down my cheeks. I knew the Unicorn could see all my guilt, and the shame made me want to crawl into a hole and die. I wasn't afraid that it would kill me. I wasn't thinking about that. I just wanted to be worthy of it.
I felt something wet fall onto my shoulder, and I opened my eyes. The Unicorn was weeping, crying milky tears that turned to crystal as they dropped into the grass. It had raised its horn from my heart, and now it laid its head against mine, like it was trying to comfort me. I threw my arms around its neck without a moment of hesitation and buried my face in the cool silk of its mane. It radiated contentment, a deep soothing peace that assured me everything would be alright. It was not just Justice as Gwydion thought. It was the Peace that followed real Justice.
"In all my years, I've never seen it do that," Gwydion whispered from where they were hiding, sounding stunned. "I've heard stories, but..."
I took a deep breath, infusing myself with as much of that peace as I could. The giddy high of magic intoxication was gone, but I was glad for it. I'd never have had the courage to approach without it. Then I made myself pull away, though a big part of me just wanted to follow the Unicorn forever. There were people who still needed me here. And someone who needed this much more than me.
"Vexa?" Ethan said uneasily. "You alright?"
I turned back to them, smiling as I scrubbed the tears from my cheeks.
"Yeah," I said. "I'm good."
I held out a hand to Ethan, beckoning him forward.
"Don't do it," Cole said. "She's clearly lost her mind."
Ethan looked nervous, but he stepped out from behind the bush, walking towards us cautiously. The Unicorn made a low, disgruntled horse-like noise and reared up a little, but I threw my arms around it again, stroking its neck until it settled and let Ethan approach.
"Don't be afraid," I said, taking his hand. "It won't hurt you. If it could cry for me, it's going to love you."
Ethan didn't look sure, but as he looked up at the Unicorn, I could see the wonder and awe in his eyes was as powerful and deep-rooted as mine. I hadn't been the only kid dreaming about this moment.
The Unicorn set its horn to Ethan's chest, and I saw the tears well in his eyes almost at once. He sobbed, his shoulder's shaking, as he relived whatever guilt the Unicorn had brought before him.
"Don't look," he begged the Unicorn, not me. "I'm not— I'm not like—"
I saw the point of the Unicorn's horn sink into Ethan's chest just deep enough to draw blood. I grabbed Ethan's hand again, squeezing hard.
"Be honest," I urged him. "You have to look at it all. You have to let it be a part of you."
Ethan shook his head, and I felt a flinch of fear as the Unicorn's horn sunk a little deeper, afraid I'd made a mistake. But there wasn't anything else I could do. There was nothing I could say now. Ethan knew I was here, that I would support him no matter what. The problem wasn't with me or anyone else. It was in Ethan.
The horn sank deeper, and I clutched Ethan's hand, afraid I'd brought him to his death.
"I love you," I said, the first time I'd said the words. The first time I'd been really, truly certain I felt them. "Ethan, I love you so much."
Ethan shuddered, then squeezed my hand.
"Alright," he said, a sound of weary acceptance. "Alright."
The tension drained out of him, though the tears fell fast and hard. The Unicorn's horn retreated, leaving no wound and no blood. It laid its head beside his just for a moment, before he sank to his knees in the grass. I fell down beside him, holding him close. He shook, still crying hard.
"See?" I whispered. "I knew. I knew it would think you're just as amazing as I do."
He sobbed, wonder and disbelief in his eyes when he looked at the Unicorn. But when he looked at me, there was only love in his eyes.
"I love you too, Vexa," he said. "So much."
He pulled me into a kiss at the feet of the Unicorn, who pressed its nose to Ethan's temple and then to mine, before it turned and slipped away into the shadow of the trees.
I got unsteadily to my feet and pulled Ethan up with me as Cole and Gwydion stepped cautiously out of the bushes. Ethan hugged me tightly, and I hugged him back, my thoughts still on the regrets the Unicorn had shown me. It hadn't spoken or shared any wisdom, but the sense of peace that had filled me gave me a strange kind of clarity, a distance from those feelings that made them easier to reckon with. I hoped Ethan felt the same. I hoped something so pure and magical declaring him worthy would soothe some of the pain knotted up inside him.
Cole surprised me by throwing his arms around both of us, his head against my shoulder.
"What did I just tell you about doing stupid dangerous things?" he scolded, his hand gripping the back of my shirt tightly. I couldn't help a smile at his reluctant concern. Ethan returned my grin, both of us emotionally exhausted but filled by the deep peace of the Unicorn's judgment.
"I'm pretty sure you only told me not to tap into powerful magic sources," I teased. "You didn't specify that I shouldn't do anything dangerous."
He raised his head to glare at me.
"Do you have any idea how inconvenient it'll be for me if you die?" he said.
"Well, I wouldn't want to be an inconvenience," I said with a laugh.
"Too late," Gwydion declared approaching us, tucking something into his pocket.
"Your concern is touching," I told him over Cole's head, then put an arm around Cole to draw him more securely into the hug, Ethan doing the same. Cole tensed awkwardly but didn't pull away. Maybe it was a little of the magic intoxication still affecting him. I was sure that was what he would blame it on anyway.
"I'm pretty sure that makes you both worthy to be King of England," Gwydion said casually, clearly trying to play the whole thing off as though I hadn't seen how afraid he was. "I have the sword back home if you're interested."
Ethan muffled a laugh into my shoulder.
"I'll consider it," I told Gwydion with a grin. He mocked a bow, then straightened his clothes and cleared his throat.
"Now, we really must get moving. Magic like that will draw—"
He was interrupted by an arrow hitting him in the chest.
He flew backward, sprawling into the grass. At the same moment, both Cole and Ethan collapsed on either side of me. Too horrified to react, I could only watch as a line of archers emerged from the trees, arrows knocked, led by a man with a golden beard and a shining crown.
&n
bsp; "You have trespassed on the sacred earth of Tir Na Nog," the man declared. "The Queen demands your presence."
Chapter 11
Whatever charm the fairies used to put Ethan and Cole to sleep didn't work on me, presumably thanks to Gwydion's inside-out jacket, so I had the pleasure of being bound and dragged up onto the back of a horse behind the bearded man, something I vehemently disagreed with but couldn't do much about. Not that I didn't try. I summoned every dead thing in the area I could reach, including some massive shambling animal I didn't even recognize, and was promptly and completely shut down with a few casual gestures by the fae. I might as well have not even bothered. I did manage to slap a few of them with necrosis when they went to tie me up and scored one a good kick in the dick, but at that point, all I was saving was my pride.
I watched, sick with anxiety, as they threw Ethan, Cole, and Gwydion onto the backs of their horses, not even removing the arrow from Gwydion, and carried us away.
We hadn't been riding long before we reached a green path, which shortly became a well-trod dirt road, then a little later paved in stone brick. By this time, the palace was in view.
A massive, glittering golden building, frothing with spires and filigree, it looked like something Disney would reject for being too overwrought. Greenery cascaded from every wall and window, flowers almost more common than the omnipresent golden scroll work. It was beautiful, to be certain, but it had nothing on the Unicorn, and anyway, I was busy being absolutely pissed as hell.
At last they brought us to a huge courtyard garden, so thick with plants there hardly seemed to be space for people, bordered on all sides by fine white marble columns. A massive oak tree stood at one end of the courtyard, and its trunk had been grown, not carved, into the shape of an elaborate throne, set with gemstones and ivory.
The woman who sat on it was, without a doubt, a Queen. You would have been able to tell she was a Queen even without the crown or the beautiful golden gown. She would have been a Queen stark naked. One flash of those dark eyes would make that clear. The fact that she was at least twice the height of anyone else here also might have contributed to her aura of regal superiority.
