Queen of Unicorns

by Jennifer Ellision

  I wept and shook my head, dismissing the idea. “I can't do this.”

  I felt Mother’s chin tilt as she looked over my head to meet the doctor's eyes. “You can and you will, darling. It's time.”

  “Push!” the doctor shouted. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she crouched below me.

  There was no other option. My body begged to push. The baby demanded it. And whether or not I was bolstered by my mother's encouragement, I screamed and did as she and the doctor and biology bade me, focusing all of my energy on pushing my baby out into the world. I could hardly think as I bore down with all of my might.

  The strain stopped and the pressure eased as the doctor pulled my baby free.

  A wail split the air. A beautiful, magnificent, glorious cry.

  I also heard little hiccuping sounds, and I realized that my eyes were streaming tears. Hurriedly, I wiped them away. Not because I was in any way, shape, or form ashamed of the emotions that were swarming through me. No, I wiped the tears away because I wanted to see. And I wanted to see clearly what Luka and I had made. What my body had strained and transformed to produce and protect.

  The doctor leaned over, inspecting my child held in her practiced hands as my mother scrambled free of the bed to get a closer look. And me? I was frozen there, held spellbound by the baby in the doctor’s arms. A perfect, messy, gorgeous, wailing baby. My baby, here at last.

  And as I watched my child wriggling in the doctor’s arms, a surreal feeling overcame me.

  The feeling that my life as I knew it had ended. And a new life—a better life—was just beginning.

  "Would Grandma like to do the honors?" The doctor smiled at my mother, holding out a pair of shiny silver scissors that glinted in the light. “Your Majesty?” She waved them toward my mother, handles first, with a confident little flourish.

  Grandma, my mother mouthed, beaming at me with undisguised glee.

  “Go ahead, Mother,” I said, smiling back as a bolt of euphoria enveloped me.

  Looking awestruck by her new title of “Grandma” as she accepted the scissors, my mother turned toward the umbilical cord, the line that still tethered my baby’s body to mine. Carefully, she snipped at the point that a nurse indicated to her. And then, the baby was free.

  Wails still filled the room. The baby’s little hand curled into an angry, indignant little fist, and its face turned an angry red.

  “Is it okay?” I hiccuped, a sudden rush of fear bolting through my mind.

  My mother looked up at me, her face radiant. Her eyes twinkled with pure, undiluted joy, and a grin threatened to split her face in two. “She's more than okay, darling,” she said, brimming with happiness. “She's perfect.”

  “She?” I repeated, my cheeks splitting into a wide grin of my own in a mirror of my mother’s.

  “She,” she affirmed, with emphasis this time and warmth in her voice. “You have a daughter, Eliana. Congratulations.”

  She took a few strides around the medical professionals that still crowded the room and made it to my bedside to hand me my baby—my daughter. “Now you know how I felt when you came into our lives,” she said. She smoothed my sweaty hair back from the crown of my head. “However much you love this baby, know that I love you the same.”

  “She’s the most beautiful ugly thing I’ve ever seen,” I said on the breath of a sob.

  Chuckles danced around the room as I continued to memorize the features of my new daughter.

  A tiny, pert nose, tiny mouth that crinkled. I held my index finger up to her little palm, and five tiny fingers grabbed hold. Her hair looked dark. Her skin had an olive-toned complexion.

  My heart twisted. She looked just like Luka.

  Once, that would have seemed like torture. Today, it seemed like the most generous gift that the gods could have bestowed upon me. Luka was gone, yes, but he would live on through our daughter.

  Do you see her, my love? I asked silently, hoping he could somehow hear me, wherever he was. Look what we made.

  “Do we have a name?” The doctor asked quietly, as though reluctant to disturb my bonding time with my child.

  A name? Panic stabbed through me. Gods and goddesses above, I didn’t have one. Would I let my daughter down that quickly, that easily? “I just figured the baby would be a boy. I was going to name him after Luka, but now that it’s a girl…”

  I looked up at my mother for guidance, and she squeezed my shoulder. “You can name her whatever you like, sweet girl. I'm sure Luka would approve, wherever he is now."

  Somehow, that was exactly what I needed to hear. Calm washed over me, and confidence took hold.

  “Her name is Fae,” I decided.

  “A fine name for a fine girl,” the doctor said with a gentle smile.

  My mother gazed at me, with a far-off look in her eyes. "I can't believe my baby has a baby," she said. The awe in her voice—the pride and excitement—was still there, but something in her words pricked my ears. Something in her tone penetrated the haze of wonder that surrounded me and my newborn daughter. She sounded almost... afraid. But why would she have any reason to be?

  “Time flies,” I said.

  She exhaled heavily. “Oh, my dear, you have no idea. Time passes, but does it really? How much do things ever really change?”

  Her hand was still stroking my hair, but she no longer seemed present, no longer here in the moment with me and rejoicing over her new grandchild. I caught her hand and stilled it with my own, finally able to break my gaze from Fae.

  “Mother,” I said, trying to sound calm. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re grown. You have a daughter of your own. But it doesn’t change anything. I’m still your mother. I must still protect you. The only thing that’s changed for me now is that I must find a way to protect you both.”

  “Protect us from what?” I asked, bewildered.

  I didn’t get an answer. She only nodded to herself and dropped my hand. “You both must be protected,” she repeated, sounding like she'd come to a resolution. She strode to the door.

  “You're leaving?” I struggled to sit up straighter, clutching Fae tighter to my body and pushing against the bed with one hand. The doctor and nurses exchanged nervous glances.

  She spared me a single glance back before delivering her parting words. “To speak with the captain of the guard. I’m going to increase the guard duty and bring in more staff. From now on, you’ll have a personal guard, and there will be one for Fae too. I’m not leaving anything to chance.” And with that, she waltzed from the room, leaving me wondering what was going on. She’d always been protective, but with Fae’s arrival, she’d gone completely off the edge.

  25th April

  The sound of my doctor’s voice drifted through the door to the room, waking me from some much-needed sleep. Beside me in her bassinet, Fae snuffled in her sleep.

  “Credentials?” The doctor squawked at some unknown person. “Fetch the queen. Better yet, open the door and let the princess identify me herself. I should think she’d have no trouble remembering the woman who pulled her child from her not half a day ago.”

  Her speech was answered only with silence, but I heard the click of the lock turning. We’d been locked in?

  “For the love of the gods,” the doctor muttered as she entered the room with a couple of guards following behind her. “I have a patient to see. I don’t have time for this.”

  Hurriedly, I waved the guards off when I saw them start after her, hands on the hilts of their weapons, expressions startled by the fact that anyone dared to defy them. They’d probably not encountered many in our kingdom who required more than a stern word from someone testing their boundaries.

  “How are you feeling?” the doctor asked while checking my temperature.

  “Like I’ve been hit by a truck,” I replied lazily. My body ached, but my heart was full of love. It made the aching more bearable. I leaned over and checked Fae. Her little chest rose and fell soundly.

 
“She’s a good sleeper.” The doctor worked around me, checking me out as I contented myself with watching Fae. She’d fed really well on her first try and fallen straight asleep.

  “Hmmm.”

  “You are perfectly fine. I prescribe rest and bonding with your baby. How do you feel about being moved back to your bedroom?”

  I nodded, eager to return to normality. The doctor summoned the guards and asked them to carry the bed with me in it to my room. She picked up Fae, who gave a little squawk at being so rudely awoken, and passed her to me.

  The journey from the hospital wing to my room was short but strange. Everywhere I looked, there were guards. My mother had really outdone herself this time.

  I was thankful when I got to my room away from prying eyes. The doctor placed the empty bassinet that she’d carried by the bed next to me.

  “Give her a feed while she’s awake, and then you can both settle down for the rest of the night. Do you want me to stay?”

  I shook my head. I’d only ever been with Fae alone while she was sleeping. I wanted to get to know her without people watching.

  “I’ll be nearby. If you need me, just call one of the guards outside your room. They’ll come get me.”

  I thanked her and waited until she left. Once again, I heard the lock click. Normally, something like this would have me running straight to my mother in anger, but if I was locked in, it meant that everyone else was locked out, which was exactly how I wanted it.

  After an easy feed, Fae fell asleep in my arms. She didn’t stir when I placed her back in her bassinet, and I used the chance to grab some sleep myself.

  I woke hours later to early morning light pouring into my room. I sat up slowly, taking care not to jar anything down below and checked Fae. She began to fuss, making little grunting noises. From my spot in my bed, I could see her tiny fists waving in the air.

  “I bet you're hungry,” I murmured.

  As if in answer, her cries grew louder and more insistent.

  “All right, all right,” I said. Wincing, I eased my feet down onto the blush-colored carpet. Fae wailed. In response, my own stomach growled, and I grinned ruefully. “I know; you’re starving. I can’t blame you. Let's get you taken care of first, and then we'll see if we can find something for Mama besides ice chips.”

  I lifted her into my arms, adjusting my clothes in the front. Fae latched on to my breast immediately after I guided her mouth there, suckling greedily. It was the strangest, most amazing feeling. I traced her tiny, delicate features with a finger while she ate. “I can't believe I made you,” I whispered.

  My gaze wandered back to the room surrounding us. As a child, this room had been both a comfort and a prison of sorts. My mother, so strong in some ways, always seemed to be afraid that something would happen to me. I grew up sheltered and overprotected—but always loved. Flowers covered the walls of the room with one picture adorning it. Not a painting, but the careful calligraphic script of one word.

  My eyes rested on the framed art, and I mouthed the word out loud. “Rumpelstiltskin.”

  I'd asked Mother what it meant once. I remembered the occasion vividly. She'd been brushing my hair, a soft, gentle hand following the brush through my silvery tresses, and when I'd voiced the question, she'd stilled.

  She swallowed. All she brought herself to say was “You must always remember that word, promise me, Eliana.”

  Try as I might, asking question after question, I could get no more out of her. And so this strange word that no one else had ever heard had evolved into a sort of curse word for me.

  Mother always smiled when she heard me saying the swear word—a reaction I would never have gotten away with when it came to any other swear. But with every utterance of that word, something dark and fearful lingered in her eyes.

  It was a shadow that was always there. Mother’s constant companion. Always lurking beneath the depths.

  And I knew that shadow was why I rarely left the palace in my early years. It had a tether on Mother—a hold that I could never, ever break.

  As a pre-teen, I'd had to fight and scrap for every inch of freedom I was allotted. I never saw the city in those days—not unless it was from a balcony or from the seat of a palanquin. And even then, a sheer curtain was always drawn over my window to obscure my face. No one would know at a glance whether it was me inside or another member of the nobility. I used to bitterly joke that the people probably wondered whether there even was a Princess Eliana. If they didn’t live or work in the palace, how would they even know I truly existed?

  Those days with my mother had been... bad. Pain twinged when I thought of them. I'd screamed at her, told her I hated her, threatened to run away multiple times.

  "I don't care if I get hurt," I'd spat while leaving the chambers she shared with my father one night. "Anything is better than being trapped in this prison cell with only you for company."

  I’d struck a chord with that. I still remembered the hurt whisper that had followed me out of the room after that declaration.

  “Trapped?”

  I regretted hurting my mother... but it was a means to an end. I did not regret the result. She'd finally softened her grip. Finally, I was allowed to see the meadows that Vale was famous for. Guards still accompanied me... I was still a princess, after all. But now it was just two men or women who lingered at the edge of the meadow. I'd had the illusion of freedom.

  And it was in the meadow, under that illusion, that I'd met Luka.

  The crunch of his boot on the grass had been my alert that I was less alone than I'd thought. I'd been lounging on a blanket on the hillside, eyes closed, with the guards at the meadow's edge. I shaded my hands with my eyes and sat up, squinting into the sunlight as a shadowy figure brushed aside branches in his path.

  The first sight of him had struck me with awe. He'd seemed as big as a tree, towering over me as he emerged from the woods with a satchel slung over one shoulder. Outfitted in a brown leather jerkin and a cream-colored doublet that looked just a hair too small and too worn for him.

  My mouth dried up. He was a big man. Three—no, four heads above me and shoulders as broad as a wagon.

  “Halt!” The guards had hurried toward me and stood in front of me, blocking the man from view. I'd stood on my tiptoes, trying to get a look at him. The guards had leveled their weapons threateningly and glowered at the stranger. “State your business, sir.”

  He stopped short upon the order and held up his satchel as evidence. It looked tiny in his enormous hands. “I'm an apprentice healer?” Nervousness made his statement a question. I couldn't have blamed him. I wasn't sure either of these guards had ever used their weapons outside of training with them, but they were polished and sharpened to nice, intimidating points. And they didn't lower when the man told them of his occupation.

  “They need to know what you were doing in the woods,” I stage whispered to him.

  His gaze flicked down to me, and I swallowed when his eyes met mine.

  My heart leaped. I hadn't known brown eyes could have so many fathomless depths to them. As dark as they were, Luka’s eyes did not hold shadows. They held light. Like the sun dancing and dappling a pile of fallen leaves in winter.

  “Oh!” He scrambled to undo the clasp of his satchel and flip open the bag. I leaned forward to look inside. Greenery spilled out of its pouch. All manner of leaves, berries, and flowers were stuffed inside. “As I said, I'm an apprentice healer in the village. I was gathering herbs and medicinal plants for my master.”

  The weapons lowered as my guards relaxed and nodded. “Be about your business then, good sir.”

  Thank you, the big man had mouthed at me.

  You're welcome, I had returned, a smile tugging at my lips.

  He turned to leave, and I panicked. He was the first person I'd met outside the confines of the palace walls. I wasn't ready to lose this new connection I'd made. “Wait!” I blurted.

  Luka paused as I turned to my picnic basket and franti
cally searched through it for something to offer him. My hands closed around a sandwich, and I held it out beseechingly. “You look hungry. Please, take this as an apology for the trouble.”

  A slow smile unfurled over his face. “A good meal is always more pleasant with good company,” he said. He tilted his head toward my picnic arrangement. “Might I...?”

  Yes, my heart breathed. But I played it cool. Kept it casual. “By all means, stay and enjoy yourself.”

  He unlooped his satchel from around his neck and settled it beside my blanket. He bit into the sandwich, and the smile turned into a full-fledged grin. “Peanut butter and jelly. My favorite.”

  I didn’t know it then, but he was just like a unicorn. Like my unicorn. Hiding in plain sight. Rare and special.

  I swallowed. “I'm Eliana,” I said. Blurted, really. It came out like I was trying to dislodge a frog in my throat.

  By contrast, his voice was warm and comforting. A low timbre. “Nice to meet you, Your Highness.”

  So he recognized the name. I supposed the guards were a bit of a dead giveaway that I wasn’t just some random girl in a meadow.

  But it wasn’t enough to scare him off. He just kept right on smiling at me and said, “I’m Luka.”

  It happened that fast. Just like that. I didn’t know him, and then suddenly, we were right in the thick of it. Luka and Me. Me and Luka. Us. We. I began brushing aside time with Jay to go into the city and visit Luka’s master's shop in the hopes that I would run into him there.

  Luka seemed receptive to my tentative flirting, but nervous. More aware than I would have liked of the fact that I was a princess, someone technically of a higher social standing than he was. But still… I thought he liked the interest I showed in his work. I knew that I liked the way I felt around him. I'd always chafed against the idea that I needed protection, but with Luka, I felt both dainty and safe. At once protected... and like I was free. Truly free for what was probably the first time in my life.

  Once I made my intentions clear to him—that was the best way that I could describe the way I’d bullied the guards outside and boldly asked Luka if he wanted to kiss me as badly as I wanted to kiss him—that had been it. I brought him home to meet Mom and Dad, although he’d wrung his hands the whole way there, worrying about meeting “the King and the Queen, Eliana!”