He'd been so nervous the first time I had introduced him to my parents, but I was lucky: they were no snobs. My mother, despite her desire to have me protected at all costs, had immediately folded Luka into a hug and thanked him for making me feel safe.
In the meadow where we’d met, I’d sucked in a nervous breath. I knew I wanted Luka. I was sure about Luka. But was he sure about me?
He had watched me curiously. “Are you feeling all right?”
“Yes.” I gulped. “In fact, I’ve been… feeling all right for a while now. I’ve been feeling amazing ever since I met you.”
That slow smile of his took over his face. “The feeling is mutual, Lia.”
A warmth spread through me. I loved it when he called me Lia. Lia and Luka. We sounded like such an ordinary couple. Not princess and pauper, not child of royalty and orphaned apprentice. Just two people, together. Ordinary people sharing something extraordinary.
I’d cherished it. If I’d known how short-lived that pocket of happiness we’d found would be, I’d have cherished it that much more.
But standing in front of Luka in that moment, all that I’d thought was that I was standing before my future, staring into its eyes. And it was smiling back at me.
So, I took my heart and took a leap, lowering myself to my knees before him.
His eyes widened. “Lia, what are you doing?” He dropped his satchel at his side and hurried to kneel with me.
I had rehearsed what I was going to say before now, of course. I couldn’t have imagined going in unprepared. But those words vanished when Luka joined me, kneeling in the meadow, taking my hands like we were about to utter prayers to the gods together. Suddenly, it didn’t matter what I had been planning to say at all. I knew the words that were written in my heart. Knew what I had to say.
“Luka,” I said. “All my life, people have knelt before me, for all kinds of reasons. I have never knelt before anyone, but I’m kneeling before you now because you’ve become the most important person in my life—and I wanted to honor that feeling.” I swallowed. “But you didn’t let me do it alone.”
He released one of my hands to run his fingers down the side of my cheek, eyes tender. “I never want you to be alone, Lia.”
I gulped and met his eyes from beneath lowered lashes. “Would you maybe want to not be alone forever with me? Do you think—would you maybe want to marry me?”
I didn’t have a ring. I wasn’t sure if Luka would like one or what size his finger was, and I didn’t want to get something like this wrong. It was too important. He was too important.
His eyes had glowed like a vat of melted chocolate when I'd asked. My heart had been in my throat, beating furiously like it was trying to hammer its way out as I waited for his answer.
"Yes."
Relief flooded through me. Relief and joy.
But Luka wasn’t done. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.
I let out a little cry, my hands flying to cover my mouth. Gently, he reached up and removed my left hand, using his other hand to open the box. A ring sparkled up at me. I had practiced and practiced. But he had actually come prepared.
“As long as you’ll marry me.” Our eyes locked, and his glowing eyes closed as he leaned in for a kiss.
“Yes,” I breathed in an echo of his earlier response. “Yes, yes, yes.”
I couldn’t believe how lucky I was that he picked me. That we picked each other.
Jay had been resentful of Luka in those early days, but over the course of the two years I’d had with Luka, Jay had ended up liking him. Luka was just like that; everyone warmed to him. When Luka died, it hit Jay almost as much as it hit me.
I looked down at our baby daughter in my arms. Fae's eyes weren't the usual gray-blue of an infant. They were the same warm brown her father's had been, positively radiating love and warmth up at me. I traced her little mouth with my finger. She had his mouth too. It would grow into a wide grin that, just like her father’s, would be infectious. People couldn't help but smile back at Luka when he was happy.
The door creaked as my mother stepped inside the room. “Good morning,” she said in a whisper, seeing Fae in my arms.
“Morning,” I returned at a normal volume.
“She's awake, then?” Mother's skirts swished as she crossed the blue carpet and put her arms around me, looking down at the baby I'd brought into this world. Mother gave my forearm a little squeeze of pure joy and leaned her head against mine. “Hello, little one,” she murmured. She sighed happily. “I just can't get enough of looking at her.”
“Me either,” I said.
She gave me another affectionate squeeze. “That part never goes away, you know. A mother's love for her children. Even in your most frustrating moments, there was a part of me that was just awestruck by the love I had for you.” She looked down at my daughter again. “She reminds me of you at that age.”
I was eager to hear how. I saw so much of Luka in her, but so very little of myself. Perhaps it was her nose...?
But no. My mother continued, “She’s so very tiny. So defenseless.”
The reminder zinged into me. She saw only danger. Danger everywhere. “About that...” I started, hesitant. Things had been good between us for so long. I didn't want to get into an argument, especially not in front of Fae. I remembered vividly how we could start off reasonably and both devolve into shouting.
I decided to start with a light question. “What's up with that? The increased guard, I mean?” I asked. I tried to act as though I wasn't overly invested in the answer, adjusting Fae’s blanket under her chin as I spoke.
My mother wasn't fooled. She stiffened against me, tension threading its way through her tendons. Her hands dropped from my body, and the space where she’d dropped her hand from my arm was cold now.
“What about the increased guard?” she snapped.
“Well... it's only that I thought we were past that.” Gently, I lowered Fae into her bassinet and motioned my mother into my sitting room. I could already tell that this conversation wasn't going to go the way that I would have liked for it to go. Mother followed me, shoulder blades drawn in tight. She held her nose at an angle and regarded me warily, as though she was sizing up an opponent for battle. The door between the bedroom and sitting room clicked shut behind me.
“I…” I trailed off and splayed my hands apart pleadingly. “I am so lucky that I had you and Father growing up. But I want different things for my child. I want Fae to have a bit more freedom growing up than I did.”
My mother's eyebrows slammed together, and she swatted a hand through the air as if she could bat my ideas away like a fly. “Impossible. Completely out of the question.”
I blinked, taken off guard. In the past, she'd always at least pretended to hear me out for a minute first. That easily, I felt my ire start to rise, but I tried my best to stamp it down and remain reasonable. “Mother,” I said in a chastising tone. Stay calm, Eliana. Stay rational. It’s the only way to make her see reason. “Has there been some threat against us?”
“No.” She rolled her eyes. “But I don’t see what that would have to do with anything. Safety and security must never, ever rest. Never take a breather.”
“So, no threat,” I summarized. “I didn't think so. So unless that becomes the case, there is no need for all of this,” I said firmly. “Fae and I are going to continue to live our lives freely, the way we would have if Luka was still here.” A lump grew in my throat, and I tried to swallow down the way my throat warbled when I said his name. Damn post-labor hormones.
My mother softened. Her posture relaxed, and I did too as she walked toward me to gently clasp my hands in hers. “Oh, my darling," she breathed. “I wish that it could be that way. But Luka is gone. The two of you have no husband to protect you. And despite what you would like, I am still your mother—and more importantly, I am still the queen.”
She patted my hands briskly and stepped away. “The guard stays. You
go nowhere without them. They will remain stationed outside of your room when you leave, or when the nursemaid is left alone with Fae.”
“But—” I protested, and she held up a hand to stop me.
“It is not up for discussion. I'm sorry, darling. But Mother knows best.”
With that, she strode away, not even giving me the chance to utter a squeak of protest.
26th April
I cracked open the door of my suite and peered out into the dark hall, where the light of the torches glimmered off of the guard’s weapons. Mother’s men had followed her orders. Two of them had remained stationed outside of my rooms, with at least one of them remaining there at all times. But one was easy. One, I could deal with. So I waited, with my ear pressed against the door until I heard one of the guards leave for his bathroom break. Then, I made my move. The door was unlocked, which was something. The lone guard started when he saw me squinting out at him, and I smiled sweetly.
“Remind me of your name," I requested.
The guard’s gaze flickered over the homely terrycloth bathrobe knotted at my waist and he straightened with my attention. "Williamson, ma'am.” His eyes widened, horrified with his slip in etiquette. “That is—I’m sorry, I meant to say, Your Highness." With haste, he bowed awkwardly.
I waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, there's no need for all of that pomp and circumstance,” I assured him. “After all, by the sounds of things, from what my mother says, you and I are going to be spending a loooot of time around each other." I tried not to let bitterness change my tone. You catch more flies with honey and all of that. And my quarrel wasn’t with this man, who was just doing his job.
His job that I needed him to neglect for just… one minute.
Williamson straightened. "Is there something I can do for you, Your High— ma'am?"
“Eliana,” I corrected with an easy smile.
He coughed into his hand, looking discomfited. “Eliana,” he said gruffly.
I fluttered my hand around my midsection and grimaced. "I hate to be a bother, but would you mind terribly running down to the kitchen and fetching me a glass of ginger ale? I've had the most terrible upset stomach tonight.”
This, I knew he would believe. I’d made my excuses of feeling sick with my parents and left dinner early, declining my mother's offer to come with me and ignoring the way they had both frowned after me.
I looked back at Williamson and tried to project the image of illness. He leaned close, keeping his voice low should anyone else hear. “I'm not supposed to leave you alone.”
“Oh, you won't be,” I assured him hastily. “I’m never really alone, am I?” I winked. “The palace is well protected. I think I’ll be fine in here in my rooms within it, don’t you?” What with my mother doubling the guards, I finished silently. Possibly even tripling them by now.
Williamson relented, sending an almost rueful smile my way, his shoulders slumping. “I s'pose you're right. My partner Benton will be back any minute now anyway, and it's not as though you're going anywhere.”
Who, innocent little me, who was being held against her will by the people who loved her? Never. I widened my eyes to project an image of unimpeachable virtue.
And the thing was, people see what they want to see. I was the Unicorn Princess in their eyes, for crying out loud! Virtuous, kind, perfect. They'd never see the bottled rage flaming behind my lavender and gold eyes. Never search for the spine of steel within my flowing and ethereal gowns. They saw guileless intent.
Because that's what they always saw when they looked at me. They didn’t want to see anything else.
“One ginger ale, coming right up,” Williamson said. He aimed his pointer finger and thumb at me in a finger gun. “Eliana.”
That’s right, we’re buddies now.
I clasped my hands together. “Oh, thank you so much,” I simpered.
My eyes followed him as he trotted down the hall. The poor man. I'd have to make sure that he still had a job after this, once Mother found out he’d abandoned his post.
I slammed the door shut and wriggled out of my robe. Williamson was right. His partner would be back any minute now, and I had no time to waste. I just needed a little bit of time away from these rooms. I needed to breathe. And I couldn't breathe anymore inside this gods-damned palace. I needed the open air. To feel the wind.
To see the unicorns.
With all of the guards swarming the palace, I wouldn't make it out to the meadow right now, but I didn't need to. The baby unicorn weighed heavily on my mind. Even in the haze of joy over welcoming Fae into the world, I hadn't been able to banish the image of the poor thing’s mangled leg, the way that the teeth of the trap had pierced her skin and sliced deep into her tendons. I couldn't forget the way she had looked up at me, helpless, her eyes frantic and glazed with pain, begging me to do something.
I needed to see with my own two eyes that she was healing all right.
Fae gurgled from her bassinet. I picked her up, and she gave a little mewl.
“Shhh.” I bounced her in my arms. “Come on, little one. No time to waste. We’re on a stealth mission.”
I bundled her into my arms to hustle down the hall. A little thrill shot through me. Besides wanting to check on the unicorn, this was going to be a moment for me. I'd get to introduce my daughter to the unicorns. Even as young as she was, I knew there would be awe and wonder in her eyes. One couldn’t see the unicorns for the first time without showing those emotions. And I couldn't wait to see them in my sweet baby daughter for myself.
I moved quickly and efficiently through the halls of the palace, nodding with respect to anyone I passed. They eyed me curiously, probably wondering at my haste, but they wouldn't stop me. They didn't know of my mother's decrees. They had no reason to suspect that there was any reason why I shouldn't be able to simply come and go as freely as I pleased. I dodged corridors and corners where I thought guards might be stationed and burst from the palace toward the path that led to the staviary.
The stable aviary was a building with high rafters and beautiful glass ceilings. It was partitioned off into different sections, accommodating land horses and the creatures that I was here to see, unicorns. There were few walls to the structure, allowing for the natural meadow breezes to flow freely in and out of the staviary. The thought was that it comforted the animals to have the healing air of their homes.
I lifted my nose to the sky and breathed deeply before heading to the entrance to the building.
The stable half-door creaked as I eased it open and stepped inside. A few curious adult unicorns lifted their heads over their stall doors to peer at us, their horns glimmering in the moonlight.
“Good evening,” I greeted them in a soft whisper.
I petted the heads of the different flying steeds as I passed them. These unicorns were the tame ones, the ones that worked at the palace. They were the only unicorns in the kingdom that were in service. We used them as transport—well, the palace staff did. Apart from my insane journey the other night, I’d not used them to fly. Most people thought they stayed because of me and my way with them, but I thought they stayed because of the endless supply of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches we fed them.
Aside from the working steeds, the other unicorns who were sheltered inside the staviary were injured creatures who needed time to recover from their injuries. Like the baby unicorn that I was here to visit.
One of the unicorns I passed whickered curiously, tilting its head at the bundle in my arms. They knew that I usually visited with treats for them.
I shook my head ruefully. “Not today, I'm afraid,” I whispered, rubbing its long face. “Next time, I promise.”
The unicorn nodded then retreated inside its stall to take a nap, grunting as it folded its legs beneath it on top of a pile of hay.
Fae made an inquisitive little noise, and I looked down at her, fiddling with her blanket. I inclined my head down toward her and eased my nose against hers gently. I breathed in d
eeply, inhaling her sweet baby smell. It was amazing how much holding her calmed me. Between her and the air outside of the palace, I may yet manage not to throttle my overprotective mother.
“Just wait until you see what I'm going to show you next,” I promised her.
I peered over the doors of the stalls until, at last, we found the baby unicorn, sleeping peacefully on a bale of hay, its little wings outstretched. They still had the downy baby fluff that would one day transform into long silvery-white feathers.
Relief unfurled inside my chest as I flicked open the catch of the lock and stepped inside the stall with Fae.
She was here. Jay had kept his word, as I'd known he would.
The baby unicorn started awake when it heard us enter. When its eyes landed on me, she struggled to get to her feet to greet us. I hurried forward, not wanting her to hurt herself by getting up too soon.
“Oh, no, shhh, shh, that's all right.” I crouched down to examine her wound. Another wave of relief washed through me. She had been well cared for. She looked freshly cleaned, her coat shining bright and silvery-white. Clean gauze was wrapped around her leg where the trap had bitten into her, tied neatly in a bow. It wasn’t her first bandage; it had been recently changed. I shifted Fae to one arm and gestured to it with my free hand. “May I?” I asked the unicorn.
She didn't move, but something in her eyes looked like permission. My fingers tugged at the end of the bow until the edges of the gauze gaped open and revealed the injury. It was a clean injury. It had made some progress since I'd gone into sudden labor in the meadow while tending to her, but I hadn’t expected it to be this far along. Perhaps unicorns had magical healing powers we weren’t aware of. We knew so little about them, really. Only what they allowed us to know.
“That's healing nicely,” I complimented her.
Queen of Unicorns Page 5
