The last known record that mentions the unicorn is from the battle of Dun, which decided the fate of the elves. The scholar Ulrich Verre stated that after the smoke of battle cleared and the elves fled into the forests ten pure white unicorns appeared. The creatures of light and silver ended the suffering of many of the maimed dead, including the great elven King Gerralt, who was felled during the battle by a stray arrow to the eye and hacked near to death with a hoe by a squire in service to Ersland’s King Vencel IX. King Gerralt lingered in death’s grasp for a whole day before the unicorns came, and after his body was hastily retrieved by a group of druids. Thusly, the battle was declared, and the power of the elves waned with the dying of their King.
I closed the book. Islwyn and Aneurin were still having their hushed discussion. Yorwrath had stopped yelling, and Grwn had started packing up. Shockingly, it was Yorwrath who noticed that I wasn’t my normal cheerful self.
“Your face is grimmer than usual,” he remarked as he tied his bedroll to his saddle. “You are staring at your future, you know. My brother can pretend all he wishes, but he’d rather be in Islwyn’s arms than yours.” I rolled my eyes at him and decided to ignore most of what he said.
“I just read the account of your last Swynwr. Shot with an arrow and hacked to death by a boy with a hoe, not a kingly end.”
“War isn’t a pretty thing.”
“Is that the sort of end you want for your brother?”
“No, but my little brother is destined to live as long as he wishes. He’ll outlive all of us. Your bones will long have been dust by the time he chooses his end. Probably surrounded by his children and their children and their children, as they sacrifice him for the family, or some other sort of martyr-ish death. You will be a moment in his life, Valentina. Do you truly wish to be with someone who will be your only and everything when to him you’ll be an instant in eternity?”
“Why are you so cruel? Is it because of your wife?”
He slapped me. “Don’t you ever—” I stopped his words with a swift punch to the mouth, splitting his lip and bruising my knuckles on his teeth.
“Fuck,” I cursed, holding my hand. That pain spiraled up my arm making my fingers tingle. “Clearly she wasn’t a moment to y—”
I should really learn to keep my mouth shut sometimes.
Yorwrath wrapped his hands around my throat, cutting off my speech and air. He raised me off the ground as he strangled me, my feet kicking him all the while. Again I didn’t grab for those hands that choked me. I wasn’t an idiot; clawing at him like a fool would accomplish nothing. I drew my dagger and stuck it in his arm. He wailed like a child and dropped me. I hit the ground hard, coughing and rubbing my throat. The others came over, but Yorwrath didn’t make another move toward me. Instead, he pulled the blade from his flesh, dropped it to the forest floor, and stared at me.
“You’re stitching me up before we leave, Dy’ne,” he barked before shouldering into Aneurin and Islwyn, who approached. I didn’t catch where I’d stabbed him, but I was hoping I’d severed a tendon. It would serve him right to be crippled for being a dick.
Aneurin pulled me to him and ran his fingers over my throat in a soft, slight caress. His brows knit and he glared in his brother’s direction. Those lovely lips of his pulled back, revealing his teeth in a sneer that I stopped by touching my fingertips to his chest, drawing his attention back to me. With his attention came a broad smile as he picked up the bloodied dagger. He wiped the blade on his pants and handed it back to me. We hadn’t said a word to one another, but I knew he wanted to beat the shit out of Yorwrath. And I knew he wouldn’t because he knew that I didn’t want him to.
“I’m not stitching the sheepfucker back up.” I winced, slipping my dagger into its sheath. My throat was still sore from the pressure of Yorwrath’s hands.
“No one expects you to. I’ll do it,” Islwyn said as he turned and walked off toward Yorwrath. I blinked at him.
“Islwyn is…” Aneurin’s voice grew quiet as he thought. “We came to an understanding; he should leave you alone now. He both hates and loves you, you know… I think Yorwrath is the same.” I rolled my eyes at him and sighed.
“What were you looking at?”
“Hm?”
“Earlier you stared off into the distance, almost like you were in a trance.”
“I saw a unicorn for the first time in my entire life” His grin broadened. “It’s supposed to be a tremendously good omen to see a unicorn. Maybe Baba Yaga wasn’t just saying things to justify what they did to me.”
“They also said you’d know pain and loss.”
“Everyone experiences pain and loss. Me loving you is a guarantee that at some point in time I’ll experience the unique sensation of what it is to have my heart cut out of my chest.” He kissed my forehead. “But it will be worth it for our time together.” I nodded as he mounted Ys. Then, after gathering the reins in one hand, he pulled me into the saddle in front of him. Yorwrath and Islwyn walked up and mounted their horses glaring at each other. Yorwrath glanced back at me for a moment before he heeled that massive black stallion on into forest at a fast gallop, leaving poor Grwn to scramble onto his horse to follow him. Aneurin made a small noise of disapproval but ultimately clicked his tongue, and Ys started down after the others at an easy canter, while I continued to flip through the herbal.
In no time at all, we found ourselves trotting down the cobblestone streets of a burned-out ruin. The buildings were all white stone, and the windows and doors were stained with soot. There was blood on the ground—blood seeps into stone and stays for decades. I scanned the streets, up to the massive white tower that rose over the treetops. Elven cities were fabled things of beauty. The remnants of that pure aesthetic clung to the ruins even as the forest crept back in to reclaim the land.
“My mother was a priestess here in her youth.” Aneurin began, his voice whisper soft. “She was a girl when she met my father. She washed his hands and feet before he entered the temple here to talk with the…Lord here. He fell in love with her instantly, but…she was in training to become a druid priestess. She had sworn her maidenhead that year to be taken on the altar during the celebrations on
Nos Galan Mai
—Beltane or May Day as you might know it. A pretty druid girl is bathed in special oils and force-fed apple liquor. Then, when she can scarcely stand, she is led to the altar where the high druid takes her in front of everyone gathered. It is supposed to be the highest honor. The priest is said to be possessed that night by Arwn, the king of Annwn—the Otherworld.
“Well, my mother said her body was holy and blessed. It was fit for gods, high priests, and kings and she refused his advances. He took it as an insult and ordered the city put to the torch. And as the city burned…Yorwrath was conceived on the high altar, in front of everyone…in the middle of winter. Only one other from this place survived—Islwyn’s mother. The three of us are bound together by what happened here. It taints us…whether we want to acknowledge it or not.”
Closing my book, I looked up at him and placed a kiss on his shoulder. Those pretty, mismatched eyes seemed sad, and his brow was creased. I wanted nothing more than to make him laugh, to take away that haunting worry and see his face light up with mirth. But the moment he stopped Ys at the base of the tower and dismounted, I knew I wouldn’t see any expression of joy from him for a while. The other three slipped from their horses and started up the stairs that led to the quartz tower’s entrance. Aneurin lingered on the stairs waiting for me, and after a few moments I put the herbal back in the saddlebags and joined him.
“I’m sorry about your mother,” I offered with a small smile.
“Don’t be. She hated my father…but she loves my brother and me, though Yorwrath less so in recent years. Each day that passes brings him closer to what my father was. Sometimes it frightens me to hear him speak.”
“So your mother was a captive?”
“Yes.”
“I thought elves only took humans as captives?”
“It’s frowned upon, but very few things will stop a Redcap from doing what they want. Right now the part of me that wants to rule shudders to think what they’re doing. When Yorwrath is away, he has a bad habit of telling them to do whatever they please. Which means burning and pillaging. Sometimes that includes the occasional elven camp or home. You either give the Redcaps what they want, or they take it.”
“It must be eating Yorwrath alive that he can’t have me.”
“To a point. My brother loves me fiercely…He killed our father to protect me.”
“What?”
“It’s a famous story. When I was thirteen, my father decided that I needed to travel with the Redcaps. Before that, I spent most of my time at home with my mother, Islwyn, and his mother. After Eldersbrook, the moment he was better Yorwrath became fiercely protective of me. I think in some way he thought of me as his child. When I started traveling with them, he was quick to place himself between me and my father. My father thought I was soft—too soft to be allowed to live. I don’t even remember what I did that gained his ire that last time. I had a habit of suggesting that maybe burning a village wasn’t the proper thing to do. But I don’t know what set him off that time specifically. All I remember was sitting in my tent reading a book one moment, and then he was dragging me out by my hair, telling me I screamed like my mother. He threw me down on the ground, unsheathed his sword, and Yorwrath jumped on him. That fight is probably why Yorwrath fights the way he does.
“My father was a large man, he was about as tall as my brother and I, and almost as big as Grwn. In full plate armor, he looked like a thing of nightmares. Yorwrath used every dirty trick he could to bring him down… He should have lost the fight. But in the end, Yorwrath took our father’s head instead of our father taking mine. And after seeing the way he fought that night, the Redcaps were scared into submission. Yorwrath’s reputation means most let him do whatever he pleases as opposed to suffering the potential consequences. The Redcaps revere him, and they would all follow him to the death. Which is why they follow me.”
“I think some follow you because they want to follow you, Aneurin. You’ve the mind of a king, and the heart of a king.”
“A True King doesn’t have a heart, Valentina. A king cannot afford to love…which is why I don’t want to be one.”
Someone stepped onto the landing. I caught them out of the corner of my eye. In reality, all I saw was a pure white flowing robe that caught on the breeze.
“Unfortunately, you do not get to choose the responsibility you are born to, Aneurin ap Aeon.” The foreign voice held power in its softness. Aneurin and I turned our gazes to the creature on the landing. I could not rightly tell if it was male or female. Its hair was long, straight, and as white as the robes it wore. Its skin was as pale as freshly fallen snow and almost bloodless. The face was remarkably beautiful, more so than Islwyn’s even. Its lips were full, soft, and almost bloodred. Its nose was narrow and small, giving it a rather noble profile. Its eyes were almond-shaped, with heavy, defined lids. And the color of those irises was amazing. Every time the light hit them they flashed a different vibrant hue of the rainbow. And in the center of its forehead was a small silver horn.
That beautiful creature of light and silver extended its hand to me. I stared at it for a time. The hand was masculine, the nails short, and the fingers thick. While he stared at me, those eyes were the same color violet as mine. Those lovely lips curled into a grin, and I turned my gaze from him to Aneurin, who was glaring at the unicorn in human form.
“Is this where you tell me I should give her up for my duty?” Aneurin’s voice was flat. “I realize your duty is to assure my place, but I don’t want it if it means giving her up.”
“You assume much, Aneurin ap Aeon. But no, I am not asking you to give her up. On the contrary…without her you will never rise. But my loyalty and my duty is to her before you.” He turned to me and grinned. “Ask yourself this… Have you ever seen a human with violet eyes before?”
“You’re mistaken. I’m nothing important.”
“You have the last of the old blood, Valentina. The very last lingering drops of Arwn’s Gift flows through your veins. Swynwr or no, he should consider himself honored to be allowed to touch you.” I narrowed my eyes at the unicorn. He was certainly spinning a web of pretty lies. Covering my face, I stifled a yawn. I was too exhausted to deal with it.
“So what does this mean exactly?”
“It means you are more than just Dy’ne. Arwn’s Gift can be awoken, and you can take your place beside him.”
“And the catch?”
“The catch?”
“Yes, what would I have to give up to do this?”
“Nothing.”
“Why don’t I believe you?” I stepped around him, and Aneurin followed my lead. The three of us continued up the stairs.
“You’ve played chess, haven’t you?” he continued, as he quickly picked up his pace to walk beside me, his robes gathered in one hand.
“Yes.”
“How does the queen move? Does she move one square at a time like a pawn or king? Or can she move like all of the other pieces?”
“Queens can’t move like a knight.” I rolled my eyes as we reached the top of the stairs. Yorwrath, Grwn, and Islwyn were waiting for us. Yorwrath glared at me as he worked his tongue across the wound on his lip.
“In elven chess the queen can move like a knight.” Aneurin spoke softly. I turned and looked at him.
“Don’t tell me you believe this nonsense too?”
“I’m keeping an open mind.”
“It means nothing. So I can trace my lineage back some odd amount of generations to the Otherworld. I’m still human, I’m still without magic.”
“The last known link to Arwn’s Gift was Iuliana Voretti, your great—”
“Great-great-great grandmother. Yes, I do know my own plowing lineage, thank you. She didn’t come into her power until she was well into her fifties. Then, thirty years later, they burned her at the stake and murdered every member of her family, except for a girl of eight that the neighbors took in. She died in childbirth, a sheep farmer’s wife.” I grumbled.