Chapter 5: A Song of Scarlet and Gold

EGORAVEN: HEIR OF THE FIRST UNICORN - The Novelization adaptation of the comic series

Helo made Arias his first and most beloved. To Arias, Helo gave the care of the young world, and she, in turn, gave magic to the world. Wherever her horn struck, great trees blossomed, and beasts made their home in its shade.

Helo then said, “And you shall not be alone in this world,” and with his breath, made Man.

But the earth rumbled as another was created. Leda, his queen, was jealous of the power Helo gave Arias and the Men she cared for. From fire and darkness, Leda created her own beloved — Miraon, the first Dragon. But instead of a love for the world in her heart, Miraon desired, above all else, the thirst to conquer it.

Arias oversaw the world, and her heart loved that of Man, but Man’s spirit was greater than hers, and she was filled with sorrow for she could not compel Man to the paths of light and the Sun King — only show the way.

Leda and Miraon saw this and pushed Man away from the magic that bound them, and Arias found herself alone once more. But Miraon was especially not satisfied with her victory as Arias still held the love of the Sun King, and she wished for that love for herself. Leda may be Queen of the heavens, but it was nothing compared to the love the great Helo could bestow.

In their battle, Arias delivered the fatal blow. It was said the moon became red with Leda’s own blood as Miraon died, but the Goddess vowed the Dragon would be as eternal as the magic that created her. The Dragon and the Unicorn, although enemies, are one under the heavens and one with Edinrahn — she who has seen the world born.

“Fairy tales,” the dragon growled under his breath as he scanned the page again. “Everyone knows it was Arias who betrayed the Mother Dragon. That dammed unicorn was given everything yet was still jealous of Miraon, who only wanted to share in the light. It is the unicorns who hoard the divine magic, yet it is the dragons who are blamed. Through Miraon, that power is just as much our birthright.”

The illuminated words gleamed in brightly colored ink, with the corresponding illustration even more so. Bilakath found himself annoyed with the frivolous decoration and floral scrollwork, seemingly getting in the way of what he was trying to decipher in the old yet very well-cared-for tome. The paper crackled as he moved on to the next page, where he was greeted with more of the same ornamentation and practically illegible script.

“Count on the elves to value aesthetics over actual knowledge,” he grumbled. “Everything they touch is useless.”

He sat back in the chair, at least glad whatever craftsman carved it made it sturdy for his much larger frame than for the more fragile elves. Rustling from the nearby shelves in the library distracted him for a moment as the gargoyle-looking Gieseth shuffled through more books and scrolls for his liege. Frustrated at not knowing what he was looking for but determined to find it, Bilakath stared at the book on the podium, mindlessly caressing the unicorn horn on his lap.

A firm knock at the door stopped both dragons from their work. The Raikashan, guarding the library entrance, entered with a deep bow. “My lord,” he announced. The Queen Mare Lilith has arrived at your behest.”

“Allow her in,” rumbled Bilakath, turning his head just enough to see the second arched door swing and the bronze unicorn appear.

She entered with light steps that barely made a sound on the marble floor, taking notice of her surroundings before acknowledging the Raikashan, who watched suspiciously from the corner of his eye.

“You act as if you’ve never been here before,” Bilakath replied, turning his head.

The unicorn continued to take in the vast library, her lack of comprehension of the space showing on her brow. “If it were up to me, this castle would not even be here. What wonderous glade, what perfect meadow was destroyed to build this? What of the elder trees that fell? What mountain was violated for its rock? All for what?”

A sound came from the dragon that startled Lilith until she realized he was laughing. “How you pine for days long gone.” Bilakath flashed sharp, jagged teeth. “Of when our forebears could live freely in the world.” He glared at her, his black pupil retracting in a sea of yellow. “And I am glad it is not up to you. This castle serves its purpose nicely, although the Eihdans have too much of a taste in delicate things. Strength is not a virtue they prize highly. Unlike Arisyans.”

“Or Raikashans,” Lilith answered, cautious with his flattery.

Bilakath grinned again, what he considered a smile challenging to discern from a snarl. “You see? We were made equal in that regard.” He fell back into deep thought, his tail rolling against the floor. Lilith did not dare interrupt, noticing his ebony claws scratching at the horn he held. She couldn’t help but shiver. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t recognize who the battered horn belonged to. It came from someone from the herd. Someone whose life she would have to answer for one day, but not now.

Realizing the bronze mare was staring, the dragon slowly raised the horn. “But why is it our strength, our very nature, is not enough to break the bonds we are tied with?”

Bilakath's voice snapped her out of her trance. “Nonsense,” she answered quickly. The Valley gives us all we ever need. Many complain of the Pull like it is a curse. Why would any creature of magic want to live in the world of Men? Why would they ever want humans here?”

The Raikashan continued his caress of the horn, making more of a deliberate show for the unicorn, whose gaze on it would not waver. “Do you think Man would give us the same latitude if they didn’t fear the Valley? Would they be so satisfied with letting us live our immortal lives unencumbered?” He placed the horn on the ledge of the book podium. “I have seen what Men will do when given the chance. I have seen the great destruction they do at their hands to their own and for no other reason than because they decreed it.

Tearing her eyes away, Lilith paced. “But they do not come here. Let them destroy themselves with their wars and crusades. What does it matter to us?”

A rumble vibrated in his throat. “Because one day they will not fear us. And the longer Alaric’s daughter is still alive and the longer she dwells in the world of Man, the less they are afraid.” Bilakath stood, taking the horn into his hand again.

“You give her way too much credit,” Lilith spat, now hating where the conversation was going.

“Do I?” Bilakath snarled. “A half-Arisyan surviving among mortals, unencumbered by the Pull? Do not think this is going unnoticed.”

Lilith gave a hard snort, and her ears pinned. Why did everything have to center back on Alaric’s shame? “Then kill her!” Her voice echoed in the library. “If you fear her influence, then let it end now.”

Whatever patience Bilikath was trying to keep vanished at her flippant comment. Digging his claws into the surprisingly soft bone, he pointed the horn at her. “Do you think I have not thought about that?” he roared, insulted. “The Pull, which, much to my embarrassment, I have underestimated, has all of us trapped in this forsaken valley, and I have almost worn myself of ways to sever that tie! How dare you believe our presence here is merely one of convenience and comfort!”

Cringing at his voice, Lilith stepped back, almost kneeling. “I apologize, my lord,” she forced out.

Ignoring the apology, the dragon turned to the rows of bookshelves behind him. “Gieseth, do you have any further news from the borders?” he called out.

The gargoyle Raikashan calmly stepped out, acting unaware of whatever occurred between his monarch and the unicorn. “The smaller lands are easily taken. Holding on to them has proven more difficult, even with the new talismans. If the spells are stronger, the Pull has proven stronger still. My lords have been able to withstand it for a while, but the Rakans have not proven to be as fortunate. We have had several incidents of them turning on each other.” He folded his hands behind his back as he completed his presentation.

Bilakath stepped closer to Lilith, pointing to the carvings in the horn, lending to its deteriorated appearance. “Using the horn does improve the spells, but the magic eventually drains from them. I have covered this one in runes, but the result is the same. The magic fades with the life force within it.”

The bronze mare tightly closed her eyes. “I beg you — do not ask me to call another,” she quietly spoke. “You have taken so many.”

“Are the responsibilities of being Queen Mare wearing on you?” The dragon grinned again, this time not in any attempt at humor.

“My lord, I am running out of explanations as to why.”

“I shall take all if I have to!” snapped the dragon, spittle splashing on her muzzle as his tail whipped. “I will not allow a pathetic half-breed to threaten my people’s very existence with her own, and I will find a way to break this curse and rule this realm! Do as you are ordered, or it will be your horn next on the block!”

The unicorn held her breath as the dragon glared at her, fear running down her spine. She knew better than to take his threat idly.

Composing himself, Bilakath returned to his seat by the great tome, dropping the horn back on its ledge. “Tell me,” he started in a much calmer voice but no less threatening. “Where is that son of yours… I forget his name…”

“Blackavar, sire,” she hesitated to answer.

“Blackavar…” He rolled the name on his tongue.  “The offspring of the two most powerful Arisyans in the Valley.” A tense pause hung in the air.

“I wish to have him see Alaric,” Lilith risked. “It has been so long since he has seen his father.”

“No,” came the abrupt answer. “I do not feel Alaric is ready to benefit from my compassion. He still fights.” He glared over his shoulder, a sly look in his eye. “Blackavar must be growing into a fine, strapping stallion by now. I look forward to meeting Alaric’s heir more formally.” He relished watching the bronze mare recoil at his invitation and pushed further. “If we are to rule together, then I should at least know all who share this reign…” He let his thought fade, which unnerved Lilith further. “But not now. I have much to do, and I’m sure he would rather remain free with his friends and family than be bored by me.”

“Yes, my lord. Of course.”

He nodded, more at the tremble he caught in her voice than her agreement. “You are dismissed.”

Turning back to the book, he listened to the unicorn leave. Gieseth stood silently to the side, waiting for his master.

“I want Lilith watched and her whereabouts reported to me,” Bilakath ordered. “It should not be difficult as the herd has all but abandoned her.”

“Do you think she will try to leave the Valley?” Gieseth asked.

Bilakath shook his head. “Her magic may be strong, but not that powerful. But I do not want Blackavar to disappear, even though he is just as trapped in this accursed place as we are.” He paused, a thought entering his mind. “Without true control of the Arisyans, we cannot expect to control the magic. The adults are far too strong-willed. But if we were to turn the young ones to our control…”

The dragon lord jumped out of his seat in a burst of energy, looming over the book that mocked him with its cryptic writing. Scratching a claw down the page, he fixated on the last line. “…one with Edinrahn…” he muttered repeatedly, attempting to put the puzzle pieces together. Slamming the book shut, he faced his head chamberlain but held his tongue.

“My lord?”

“Strengthen the runes by the cage,” Bilakath finally answered. I want it to completely block Alaric’s magic from the rest of the valley.”

Gieseth flinched at the order. "That will take some doing. It took enough to keep him in the cage.”

“I do not care how you do it. I need it done.” Bilakath growled as he thought further. “The secret is not with the dead but with the living…” Grabbing the horn, he marched out of the library. “I will be in the great hall. Be sure no one disturbs me.” Turning back, he snarled in disgust at his following command. “And call for Prince Rillian. I finally have a use for that worthless elf.”

* * *

The banquet hall rang with the sounds of music and conversation. Dancing couples whirled as others feasted at tables overflowing with elaborate dishes that never seemed to dwindle. The receptions of host cities were always grander than those of the smaller towns, but after a while, they all began to meld into each other. Another fancy dinner she had an obligation to attend after a long day of tournament.

Egoraven meandered among the crowd, nursing a goblet of wine she tolerated the taste of mostly to keep her hands busy. Taking another sip and trying not to react to the bitter aftertaste, the unicorn let out a long sigh. Maybe she wouldn’t be so bored if the revelers would even give her the slightest bit of conversation. All the adoration that would overwhelm her at the lists seemed to vanish once the excitement of the contests ended.

There were no tales of her exploits, embarrassing songs of her marital woes, or throngs of enamored peasants. Instead of being the hero of common folk tales, Egoraven traced the perimeter of the hall, followed by whispers and suspicious glares. The lords and ladies of the ball were more than happy to be entertained by her, but once the performance was over, they acted as if she were a trained monkey inadvertently let loose among them.

“Look, that’s the knight I’ve been hearing about.” A group of women gossiped as the unicorn walked past, not close enough for them to think they were calling her attention but enough for Egoraven’s large mule-like ears to pick up their words clearly.

“She’s not a knight. She’s a princess from what I’ve heard,” answered another.

A third woman waved her fan in front of her face. “That beast a princess? Surely, you jest,” she spoke through the lace.

“It certainly explains why she thinks her place is among men. What suitor would ever want that as a princess?”

“You mean, what man would ever want that at all? It certainly makes me feel better about my flaws.”

“True! No one is ever going to confuse me for an animal!”

The women cackled, utterly oblivious as Egoraven’s ears drooped. Amadaeo is right. Elf or human, they’re all the same. She took another sip of wine, wishing to trade all the pomp and finery for those simpler days back at the forge. To trade everything to hear Daniel laughing with her instead of these awful ladies laughing at her.

For the first time at the banquet, she gave a genuine smile, thinking about the letter he had sent. Of how she must have read it countless times, imagining his voice regaling his excitement for her success, of how quiet everything was without them, and even the silly jokes decorated with even sillier drawings he sketched along the edges. He had nowhere near Johar's artistic skill, but she adored his little doodles just the same.

Egoraven thought about how lucky she was to have such a dear friend as Daniel. Then she paused. Why did friend seem like the wrong word to use?

“Egoraven!”

She turned to the sound of her name to see Alexandria pushing her way towards her. Trailing close behind was Lord Cerrik. Although he moved without rush, he stared at the unicorn like a predator sizing its prey. Egoraven took a deep breath, abandoning her wine to a passing servant and composing herself.

 “Egoraven!” called the lady again. “I was afraid you were not going to show up. I had this dress made entirely in your honor. Look at the gold embroidery—I based the design off your crest!”

Before Egoraven could settle her mind, Alexandria bunched up her dress and lifted the hem, showing off the appliqués of unicorns surrounding a sun shield, along with a generous view of a pale leg in white silk stockings. The unicorn bowed slightly lower to hide the embarrassed blush crossing her face at the borderline crass display. And in front of her husband-to-be, no less.

“As always, I cannot help but bask in my lady’s glory,” Egoraven replied, watching the knight saunter behind Alexandria as he did back at the tournament grounds.

“Indeed,” Cerrik replied, placing possessive hands on Alexandria’s shoulders, causing a pronounced frown on the lady’s face. Neither of them bothered to pretend to be part of a happy couple. “You have made incredible progress since last I met you as the hotheaded novice.”

Egoraven tightened her lips and nodded to him. “I am glad my first impression did not mar my standing with you.”

“As am I.  Alexandria insists on showing you off at every opportunity.” He dug his nails, making her wince. “Such is the price for having her as my wife.”

Egoraven kneaded her fingers. “I am very happy for you and wish you both well.”

What was it Daniel had said about needing to work on her lying?

 “Coming from you, I take that as a blessing,” Cerrik replied. “You have truly proven yourself as an asset to our house.” A creeping grin stretched his lips. “However, you have some way to go in the rankings.”

The unicorn straightened her back as she felt her heart jump in her throat.

“And you would still have to be tournament champion for the king to knight you.” He continued. “I mean, aside from proving yourself in a war. Despite all you have done, Baron Reynald will not officially name you part of Dallyn or give you lands, and a knight is only as good as the lord they serve.

Egoraven gulped as she felt the knife twist.

“Surely there have been other, more powerful lords that have taken interest in you?”

“I have not received any endorsement outside of our lady here,” she said, feeling the heat building under her collar. But I am sure with time, I will be able to attract attention.”

“Of course, of course. After all, you must be immortal, right?” It was apparent Cerrik was relishing the conversation. “Any human would have been knighted long ago—”

Fed up, Alexandria wrested herself from his grip, revealing red marks where his fingers had only grown tighter as he spoke. “Isn’t it enough we spend all day at tournament?” she snapped at him. “Do we need to keep talking about it as well?”

“It is no problem, my lady,” Egoraven stammered, glad for the opportunity to break eye contact with the knight who continued glaring.

“You look flush, champion. Is the trial of the day catching up to you?” He did not hide the mocking in his voice.

Clenching her hands, she spun away from them. “If you will excuse me—” she spoke, unsure whether anyone heard her. She quickly made her way out of the hall as tears stung the edges of her eyes.

Alexandria thought it best not to chase after her as Cerrik silently gloated.

The unicorn trotted through the corridor past whispering ladies and smirking lords, looking for anywhere to escape. The smell of fresh air and fragrant flowers caught her attention, and she made her way to an open window leading to an empty balcony. Looking past the garden into the vast forest beyond the city, she clutched the balustrade. Lashing her tail, she finally let the tears fall.

“Why did I ever think I could do this?” she scolded herself. “How did I ever think I could save anyone, much less a kingdom? Why didn’t I stay in Edinrahn? Why didn’t I just let the dragons take me?”

“So, what’s with the long face at such a fine banquet?”

Startled, Egoraven popped up, scrambling to wipe her face with the fur of her wrists. Smoothing out her suit, she turned, only for a gasp to get caught in her throat.

Orchid stood in the opening of the balcony, smiling over her fan and keeping just enough distance to allow Egoraven to regain herself. Her scarlet dress shimmered with threads of gold ochre, its voluminous brocade accentuating her curves, and her tightly laced corset creating a perfectly lifted cleavage that made Egoraven ache at seeing it.

“I cannot hold such a mood with your image of beauty before me,” Egoraven found herself breathlessly replying.

The unicorn in scarlet laughed. “If your words were gold, I would be a queen.”

“And I would serve by your side with all my heart.” Egoraven reached out to take Orchid’s hand, only for her to casually pull it away just as contact would have been made.

“A much better alternative to being surrounded by all this incessant rambling about tournaments, don’t you agree?” Orchid turned her gaze towards the banquet hall.

“Lady Alexandria had the same observation,” Egoraven answered, noticing a small, folded note in Orchid’s palm.

“I am actually not a fan of tourneys, but your competing has made watching them more interesting.” She raised the note to her painted lips as she continued looking away.

“I am happy that I have been able to captivate you,” Egoraven answered while remembering her empty seat and the incident it triggered at the joust.  Where were you then?

The clacking of heels against marble revealed a flamboyant lord hurrying through the hall. “Orchid, my dear! I was hoping to catch you before I left.”

“How fortuitous for you that I am right here,” Orchid answered, turning her full attention to him.

“I just wanted to confirm that we’re set, and I will have my man settle the rest of the arrangements.”

“As always, Lord Fredrickson.” She playfully waved the note at him.

“Wonderful,” he answered as they leaned into each other, sharing kisses on their cheeks. Catching Egoraven watching them, the lord grunted. Giving Egoraven a polite bow, he continued his leave.

“I have noticed you exchanging notes with men since the first banquet,” Egoraven mentioned as Orchid turned back to her. “I can’t get anyone to even look at me directly, yet you are accepted without hesitation.”

The comment elicited an odd chuckle. “Oh, believe me. I went through the same thing in the beginning. You just have to find your strengths and run with them.”

Ears twitching, Egoraven contemplated the answer but also recognized the pattern. “You are going to leave soon, aren’t you.” She couldn’t help sounding disappointed.

“Soon but not yet,” Orchid answered, tucking the note into her bodice. “You can’t expect me to accompany you all night, do you?”

“…yes…” Egoraven whispered to herself. Before she could tell whether Orchid heard her, they were interrupted again.

“I hope you are feeling better.” Alexandria walked up to the two unicorns, this time without Cerrik anywhere near her.

“Yes, I am my lady. I appreciate your concern.” Egoraven gave a polite bow.

 “The well-being of my champion is always of my concern.” Without hesitation, Alexandria grabbed Egoraven’s hand. Still not used to the constant disrespect of her physical space, she glanced at Orchid, who only held her usual smile whenever the lady was around.

“I was able to convince Cerrik to go about with his friends instead of hovering over me the whole time. He can get quite stifling.” She began pulling Egoraven back towards the banquet hall, and the unicorn could do nothing but follow.

“I’m sure it’s because he cares for you,” Egoraven answered.

Alexandria smirked at the gentle lie. “Oh, I think the status of my house has more to do with it.” They returned to the bustle of the grand hall.

“I would hope my lady has some love in her heart for him. It is the very basis of chivalry.”

The lady sighed and snuggled the arm she clung to. “How I wish it were that way.” As she spoke, the troubadours serenading the party started their next song, causing Alexandira to perk up. “My favorite!” she squealed, grabbing Egoraven’s hands. “Honor me with a dance, I insist!”

Egoraven cringed but could not resist the literal pull. “I am not sure if that is wise—” she tried protesting.

Ignoring her, they took their positions among the already dancing couples. Self-conscious dread creeping, Egoraven hesitated as she realized she was the one who was expected to lead. Taking the cue from the couples around them, Egoraven took the lady into her arms. As they waltzed, the side stares they received were abandoned, with the surrounding couples deciding to enjoy the moment. In the second of a swirl, Egoraven caught a glimpse of a woman in red leaving the hall. She felt her jaw clench but was immediately brought back by Alexandria embracing and snuggling under her chin.

The song finally ended, and the couples separated except for the odd unicorn and the still-clinging lady, who lingered on the floor in an awkward embrace. Letting out a breath in frustration, Egoraven caught Cerrik’s glare from a group of lords drinking in a corner, their medals and bejeweled collars signifying their knighthoods seeming to shimmer a little too noticeably to her. With a gentle push, Egoraven peeled Alexandria off of her.

“You have quite a wife in Alexandria. Keeping up with her must be a chore in itself.” The man chuckled as he gulped his wine.

“Her pets don’t seem to have a problem with it, don’t they, Cerrik?” another added.

Cerrik swirled his wine as a tight, annoyed smile crossed his lips. “Alexandria has always been a free spirit,” he answered, taking a sip.

A grunt answered him. “A little too free, judging by the looks of it. Her father must be relieved to have you taking her. Although, you should be more concerned with how she is taken to that one. Edinrahn is not a place any of us should underestimate.” The lords shuffled at the thought.

“I have no fear of unicorns,” Cerrik growled into his cup. They glanced back at the opposite end of the hall where Alexandria and Egoraven stood aside.

“Maybe it is not them you should fear.” The man looked over the unicorn girl in her suit, which was well crafted but not anywhere close to the latest fashion on display at the party. A princess, yet too low standing to even pretend to look like one. It was almost laughable. “There have been rumors of dragons attacking the lands surrounding the Valley, but nothing has been confirmed.”

The lords shuffled again.

“Dragons?” Cerrik couldn’t believe anyone was talking seriously about the creatures. “Since when do they leave their mountains? Next, you’ll tell me that orcs and trolls are also on the move.”

“Don’t joke like that. It's bad enough that those cretinous goblins have been habitually setting up near towns and cities as if they’re legitimate traders.”

“I’d rather goblins than dragons.”

“Only rumors so far,” another of his companions continued. “How odd how these unicorns show up, then stories of dragons surface.”

“This does not bode well,” spoke another lord.

“Although, at this moment, the only danger seems to be to Alexandria’s affections.” Turning to Cerrik, he gave him a playful elbow to the arm. “Maybe you should find a witch to give you a horn and a tail.”

The men laughed at the joke with Cerrik joining them, but his response was not as mirthful at the ribbing. Taking a swig from his goblet, Cerrik glared back at Alexandria and Egoraven, watching the unicorn catch his eye and quickly turn away. He wondered how long he could tolerate this charade.

* * *

City. Town. Tournament. City. Town. Tournament. The weeks unwound with the same pattern. City. Town. Tournament. Joust. Ground contests. Winning. Presentation with the host Lord and Lady. Banquet. Alexandria, whose clinging possessiveness was beyond grating. Banquet. Cerrik, whose spite cast a longer shadow. Banquet. And Orchid, whose sun-kissed beauty was only matched by her captivating aloof nature. Like trying to catch a butterfly in a storm.

The tavern they stayed at was unusually empty for the time of day, the result of travelers returning to their homes or following the next leg of tournament. Egoraven sat hunched over her meal, trying to control unsuccessfully the foul disposition that hung over her. Johar sat opposite her with Amadaeo next to him, with the weariness of the trip also showing on them.

Morgan was the only one who showed any energy as he fussed with Egoraven’s newest win—a small chest gleaming in the window's light. He studied it with awe, repeatedly opening and closing the lid, then let out a low whistle. “Solid gold,” he whispered just loud enough for the table to hear. “And I believe this is the largest piece we have won so far.”

“Melt it down then, for all I care,” Egoraven grumbled, shoveling another spoonful of stew in her mouth. “I mean, that’s what will happen to it anyway. It’s not like we’ve kept anything else I’ve won.”

 “Well, if you say it like that—” The fox scrunched his nose. “At least admire it while we have it.”

Egoraven sighed. “What kind of knight sells their purses as they get them? We can’t even keep the horses we win.”

“One, you’re not a knight yet,” Morgan answered. “And two, you’re a poor one. But thank Helo, you have been winning these prizes. At least we haven’t had to pull too much out of our pockets for this trip. Just taking care of Warking and the pony is expensive enough.” He put the chest back in its velvet pouch and returned to eating, his attitude no longer upbeat either.

Johar silently listened to the back-and-forth, feeling remorse at having to add to it but knowing he had to. “Your distraction in the ring has me very concerned,” he started. Your competition is getting tougher, and your armor has the dents to prove it.”

“You don’t need to worry,” she answered, anticipating the conversation. The horse man dug into his satchel, pulling out a neatly folded parchment. Unfolding it, he tapped it with his finger. “I would not be so comfortable. Our ranking will send us to Varcyn.”

The fox gulped his stew. “Varcyn? The capital? Are we at finals already? I’ve been so busy, I wasn’t keeping score.”

Johar nodded. “Yes. Varcyn is our next stop.”

“We’re going to need all the coin this thing gets us.” Morgan tapped on the velvet pouch. “We’ll be lucky if we can get through the gates. They don’t exactly welcome doubans with open arms.”

Johar nodded, then turned back to Egoraven, who didn’t look like she was listening. “It will make it easier for us if we finally join Lady Alexandria’s entourage instead of going at it alone.” He paused, waiting for any acknowledgment. It was apparent her thoughts were elsewhere. “I will need you to talk to her about this,” he stressed.

 Egoraven kept her distant gaze. “I’m sure she won’t have a problem.”

“Varcyn’s mage-judges are a tough bunch,” Morgan commented, dipping his bread in the leftover broth and slurping it up.

Amadaeo tilted his head. “They do not tolerate non-Men, but they employ sorcerers?”

“Human is human,” the fox shrugged. “And any human who can wield magic is especially valuable. In fact, Varcyn has the largest wizard college in the realm. They’ll be watching to disqualify you at the first chance.”

“And if they don’t do it, the competition will certainly try,” Johar added.

Clenching her fists, she slammed her utensils on the table, startling Morgan and Amadaeo while earning a stern look from Johar. “I don’t care what they do—it all doesn’t matter anyway.”

“What are you talking about?” Amadaeo asked. “Of course, it matters.”

The unicorn girl wiped her mouth in frustration. “No one has taken me seriously so far. And if we’re going to a place that already has a bias against us, what difference does it make?”

“It makes all the difference.” Johar gave a reassuring nod to the few other patrons in the tavern, who turned to see where the slam had come from. He returned his attention to Egoraven. “Many knights spend years training before they swear fealty to a liege—”

This time, it was the fox losing his patience. “Give it up, Johar. She’s not thinking about winning tourneys and swearing fealty to anybody except Alexandria’s—”

“Morgan, behave,” Johar barked, trying not to raise his voice.

“No, I will not! I’m tired of this,” he snapped back. “We are traveling from city to city, putting our reputations on the line. I could have stayed with Daniel, but I believe in what Egoraven is doing. But I’m not going to have it if she stops believing it herself.” He stood on his seat and wagged a clawed finger. “Egoraven isn’t putting her all into her fighting because all she thinks about is winning the attention of a courtesan!”

All eyes in the tavern were now on their table.

Egoraven angrily flinched, feeling her face heat up. “Orchid is not a courtesan! How dare you talk about her like that!”

“What?!” Morgan screeched in disbelief. “You think all those men she constantly dumps you for are just friends?”

The innkeeper leaned over, looking at the table from the bar. Johar raised his hand to signal everything was under control, earning a skeptical raised eyebrow, but he did not move from his spot at the counter.

“Morgan, keep your voice down,” Johar hissed.

“Of course, she’s a courtesan.” Morgan returned to his seat, taking a swig of his warm ale. “Although, I prefer a more accurate term for it.”

“Morgan, now I am not asking.”

Realizing he was pushing his luck, the fox sat back in his chair and folded his arms. Egoraven sat back as well, stunned by the comment.

“Child, don’t tell me you didn’t notice.” Amadaeo couldn’t understand how his niece missed such an obvious detail. All Egoraven could do was look away sheepishly.

“Not all women in the realm have the same roads accessible to them as you do, and many do what they must to survive,” Johar explained in a sympathetic voice. “Her choices must not become a distraction, nor should you judge her because of them.

“A courtesan?” Egoraven repeated the word as if she were hearing it wrong. Overwhelmed, she jumped from her chair and stormed out the front door.

The unicorn gave a soft snort. “I will talk to her.”

Johar raised his hand. “No. Let her be. This time, we must all step back and let Egoraven sort things out on her own.”

* * *

The market square was busy with people going about their day, the ending tournament returning everyone to their regular daily routines. After aimlessly wandering for a while, Egoraven tucked herself beside an empty market stall, sitting on a crate and watching people go about their lives. A couple of times, her attempt at public solitude would be interrupted by curious passersby looking for a little conversation with the odd unicorn girl. Still, mostly, she was left alone with her thoughts, which she wasn’t sure she wanted either.

Feeling unable to contain the swirling emotions, she tingled from the tip of her horn to the points of her hooves as if she were going to burst at any moment. How did she even get to this point?

Did it seem that long ago, when she found herself being chased out of her castle by a prince she thought was her friend? A friend who betrayed even his own family and condemned them to death at the hands of dragons? She shivered at remembering how he pressed up against her, babbling nonsense as he pawed at her. Had he intended to rape her in the middle of the attack for all to see like some sacrifice? Egoraven felt her stomach turn.

She let out a sigh and continued watching the humans go about their day until a large retinue passed through the square. She remembered them from the contests but couldn’t place the knight’s specific name. Even when packed and ready for travel, it was apparent how they worked together for the sake of their lord.  Looking the part with their crests and heraldic banners, everything they did reflected the reputation of their house. No one would ever mistake them for a ragtag team of blacksmiths who could barely afford to get their liege to the next town.

Egoraven shook her head, her ears drooping in embarrassment. Johar, Morgan, and Daniel did everything they could to help her and her uncle. They could have just as easily turned them away. Johar could never have intervened. Being anything but grateful where everything could have gone very wrong was so unfair to them.

But where was she now? Hiding in a square wishing everything was different. Wishing the dragons never appeared. Wishing she was with her family. Wishing she never saw that side of Rillian. Wishing she never met the insufferable lady. Wishing they were all back at The Coal Horse. Wishing she could see Daniel one more time. Wishing she didn’t have to try so hard to gain Orchid’s attention. Wishing she didn’t know Orchid was a courtesan.

Orchid is a courtesan.

A courtesan.

Egoraven didn’t understand why that bothered her so much. Was it truly any different from what she was trying to do? A knight and a courtesan, both pledging their bodies to the service of the court. Before she could dwell deeper, a familiar perfume caught her attention, making her flush—the same perfume from sun-kissed skin and ebony hair.

As if stung by a bee, Egoraven shot up and scanned the crowd. Her ears twitched as she whiffed the air again, thinking she might have been imagining things, her heart racing along with her pace. Orchid was in the square somewhere. She had to be. Turning a corner, a flash of red caught her eye.

The unicorn in scarlet stood beside a carriage, laughing and conversating with a well-dressed gentleman. Thwarted by his presence, Egoraven stepped aside, deciding to watch from afar. She attempted to get a better look at the man keeping Orchid’s focus. He was not the Lord Fredrickson she remembered from the banquet and certainly not dressed like an attendant. As he opened the door to the carriage and escorted Orchid in, Egoraven found herself heating up, her brow furrowing.

How could Orchid dare make her feel the way she did yet seem not to want the affection she was so willing to give back? What these lords offered was as fleeting as the time they purchased. Didn’t Orchid realize she was willing to give so much more if only she accepted it?

Why do you flutter so near my flame, yet I am the one getting burned?

With a lurch, the carriage made its way, unaware of the unicorn that followed it.

Egoraven didn’t know how long she had been trailing the carriage. Muscle memory and magic had overtaken her as she melded into the accompanying forest, wholly focused on not losing the carriage. Not even the horses sensed her presence as she silently ran through the underbrush and darted between trees with the effortless skill of her enchanted kin and the single-mindedness of a hunter tracking their quarry.

The lord’s estate was just outside the city, its transition from wildwood to vast, open lawns and gardens making the unicorn’s chase all the more challenging but not impossible. The carriage finally stopped at the grand main house, where the giggling, amorous couple emerged, surrounded by the unsurprised help.

Egoraven spied on them as she snuck through a tangled briar of roses, the thorns yielding to her every move. Every kiss the noble planted on Orchid, every caress he stole on bare skin, enflamed the unicorn with jealousy. As they disappeared into the house, Egoraven continued creeping through the bushes at its edge, avoiding the roaming groundskeepers and straining to hear Orchid laughing through each window until it faded to the sounds of stairs and silence. Knowing there was no more for her to do, the unicorn settled into a well-covered spot and waited.

“Hey.”

“Daniel? What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?

Egoraven startled herself awake, not even realizing she had fallen asleep. Disoriented, she pulled her face off the wall, rubbing where the stone left its pattern on her cheek, the rock showing her less respect than the roses.

 “As always, it has been a pleasure, Lord Draysil.”

Egoraven’s ears twitched at the voice, making her remember what she was doing.

Orchid and Lord Draysil stood at the top of the stairs, continuing to share flirtatious exchanges. “A woman as delicate and fragrant as her name is always welcome. I shall call my coachman to return you to the city center.”

The unicorn in scarlet giggled, caressing his beard much to his delight. “How I wish I didn’t have to leave your good graces.”

“It makes our next meeting all the sweeter,” he cooed, leaning in for another kiss until surprised shouting distracted them. At the bottom of the stairs gathered a groundskeeper and an attendant scurrying alongside another unicorn woman who ignored them as she marched over.

“My Lord, she has no appointment, and we tried to stop her, but she kept insisting…” cried the harried servant.

Draysil frowned at the display.  “What is this? How dare you trespass...”

“Egoraven!” Orchid’s mouth fell open at her disheveled state.

The lord of the manor reacted to the name. “Egoraven? Oh yes—you would think I would have recognized you.”

Orchid quickly interrupted. “Of course, my dear. I had forgotten that I had asked her to escort me back so that carriage would be unnecessary.” She gave him an exaggerated embrace and a kiss that seemed to appease Lord Draysil. “Forgive my lapse and farewell then.”

 “That’s quite a walk back. Such an odd request, but who am I to deny my beauty?” Looking at her curiously, he waved his servants away. “Be safe, my dear.”

Orchid gave a final coy laugh. “I am in fully capable hands, my lord.” With that, she turned and almost skipped down the stairs, gesturing for Egoraven to silently accompany her until she heard the heavy wood door close behind them.

Egoraven felt perfectly manicured nails dig into her arm.

 “Are you mad?” Orchid hissed more in concern than anger. “You shouldn’t make it a habit of sneaking onto other people’s property, especially those of higher rank and power than you.” She nervously wrung her hands and then composed herself.

“I just wanted to see you,” Egoraven answered sheepishly.

“We see each other all the time at tournament and banquet,” Orchid replied.

“No. I wanted to see you outside of those—away from other people.”

The unicorn in scarlet gave a mischievous chuckle. “Away from Alexandria, you mean.”

Egoraven blushed. “She... is quite a handful.”

“You have no idea.”

Realizing it was too late to turn back and take Lord Draysil up on his carriage offer, Orchid reached out and hooked her arm into Egoraven’s, resigned to the long walk. Ears twitching, Egoraven sighed and smiled at the gesture. During their stroll, she listened intently as Orchid spoke of her travels and life in the various courts she encountered, finding the world through her words much more expansive than she ever thought it could be.  They began following a stream that meandered through the wood but knew it would eventually lead back close enough to the city.

“The life of a knight must be very lonely with all the practice and work that goes into it,” Orchid commented. Egoraven paused, not expecting to talk about herself at all.

“I’m not lonely,” she answered, unsure if she were telling the truth. “I have my friends. I have my uncle. It’s what I want to do.”

“Is it really?”

Egoraven winced at the simple response that weighed heavy with implication. “What makes you say that?”

Orchid adjusted her arm, keeping her gaze ahead. “I remember first seeing you in that stable back at your foundry. If I had never shown up, you would still be there, most likely happier than you are now.”

Remembering the split second of her dream in the bushes, Egoraven remained quiet; there was more truth in that observation than she wanted to admit. She was happy at The Coal Horse. Happier than she ever felt in Edinrahn. Yet here she was, struggling for a way to save a kingdom she didn’t know she could actually return to, even if the dragons were driven out. She felt her chest tighten and the desperate need to change the subject. “How come you never told me you are a courtesan?”

“I never felt it necessary to mention it.”

They stopped and sat on the grass to watch the afternoon sun glimmer on the water. “Is being a courtesan something you want to do?” Egoraven asked cautiously. She heard a soft laugh.

“It wasn’t my first choice, but it certainly was a better one.”

Egoraven’s ears swiveled. “Surely, there must have been other options.”

Orchid smiled and looked over to the other side of the stream, folding her hands on her lap. “Where I come from, there are only two options — be rich or be poor. If you were a rich woman, your entire life was planned from birth. If you were a poor woman, all you could hope for was to marry another poor man and pray for the best.” She brushed her dress, hesitating. “After the death of my parents, when I was very young, I lived off the streets until one day someone offered me more money than I had ever seen for just a few moments of my time.”

Egoraven felt her face heat up, her tail swishing in discomfort, not needing any clarification as to what that meant.

“I soon went into the employ of a Guild mistress, where I learned my trade and heard the stories of famous courtesans,” Orchid continued. “Rich men's wives are sheltered and devoted to family and home. However, courtesans could socialize with nobles and royalty, acquire education, and collect their wealth.”

Her back straightened. “That was the life I wanted. I saved every coin I could and went to a traveler witch. I asked for a spell to make all men turn their heads when I walked into a room.” A singing laugh escaped her as she brushed her hair again from her face, emphasizing her curved pearl horn. “I should have been more specific.” Her tail curled and waved.

Egoraven’s eyes widened. “So that’s what Amadaeo meant. He knew you were human all along.”

Orchid chuckled. “I would have expected not to pass muster with an actual unicorn.” She adjusted her seat. “I realized quickly I couldn’t spend the rest of my life hiding, so putting on my finest clothing, I made my way to the next kingdom, making up a fanciful history to match my look. It was a little rough going initially, but much to my surprise, it worked.” A sly grin crossed her face. “Nobles have a thing for the exotic.”

“So, in the end, the witch gave you what you wanted.” Egoraven gazed at her, the golden sunlight making Orchid look even more radiant, and she felt her breath skip.

The smile that Orchid tried to keep faded. “You can’t fight destiny.”

They sat quietly watching the stream until they realized they had been stopped for a little too long. Egoraven stood and helped Orchid get back to her feet.

“Forgive me for asking,” Egoraven started, “but are you and Alexandria—?”

Orchid did not flinch at the question. “I was hired by her father to help curb her excesses in the hopes of making her a proper lady. But you know Alexandria. She wants what she wants.”

Egoraven pursed her lips at even the thought of the unwanted attention the lady insisted on bestowing on her. “Then why the ruse with Cerrik if she truly has no interest in him?”

“Marriages among nobles have less to do with love and more with courtly politics. And there’s still the trick of producing an heir.”

Suddenly, all the bard songs about a unicorn princess fleeing from her forced engagement to a rakish elf prince didn’t seem so exaggerated. “I feel sorry for Cerrik. He has his work cut out for him.”

The words wiped the smile from Orchid’s face, and she clutched Egoraven’s hands. “Do not give Cerrik your sympathy,” she said seriously. “You have no idea how close you came to never leaving Doornham a free woman. It took Alexandria everything to keep her father from demanding your arrest, which Duke Mercer was more than happy to oblige. It was a decision that still haunts Cerrik, but the marriage arrangement did plenty to assuage his bruised ego.”

Egoraven felt a gasp get caught in her throat at the blow of what happened after she left that first banquet. Orchid pulled her closer, making sure she understood the dire situation she was actually in. “No one in that house is your ally—Cerrik especially. You are Lady Alexandria’s champion and the object of her desires. Beware her charms and the attention they bring.”

Having her so close switched something and Egoraven adjusted her hands, clutching Orchid’s fingers tighter. All she could do was drown herself in the perfume of her hair and get lost in Orchid’s almond eyes. “I do not want Alexandria, nor do I want to take away from Cerrik what is his. In fact, I couldn’t care less about their affairs.” She leaned in, feeling the heat of Orchid’s skin and her breath on hers. “I have my own destiny to follow.”

“Egoraven, I...”

Their lips brushed against each other. Egoraven felt a slight hesitation from Orchid that disappeared as their tongues met and danced. She pressed herself more against her, tightening her grasp and drinking Orchid in with growing need. The kiss became more desperate as she felt a heat from her core that threatened to overwhelm her had Orchid not pulled away in what felt like impeccable timing. Egoraven let out a heavy gasp, her face flush and her entire body trembling at what she had done, feeling awkward and powerful at the same time. Orchid’s full, perfect lips pulled into a soft smile.

“Orchid…”

Any attempt to speak was met with a gentle finger on Egoraven’s lips. “Shhh… don’t ruin the moment,” Orchid whispered. Egoraven could only nod as her thoughts raced as fast as her heart. The two unicorns stood silently together, breathing in each other, savoring the waning time.

* * *

The city of Varcyn sprawled endlessly across the landscape, its heavily fortified walls dotted with guards all along its ramparts and peaked towers. Multiple gates were crowded with travelers and citizens making their way in and out of the capital. The caravan of Beusaugh and Deanjou proceeded to a further gate, away from the common rabble. While most of the entourage took no astonishment, Egoraven was awed at the massive city, at how, even behind such impossibly high walls, she could still see the peaks of buildings, with one spiraling tower at its center soaring above everything. Even Johar and Morgan couldn’t help but show their amazement at seeing the capital city for the first time, while Amadaeo fretted at the sheer number of people such a place could hold.

A small group of guards and priests waited by the gate. Dramatically dismounting, Cerrik strode over to the captain of the guard, both men reacting to each other with familiarity. “Captain Gibson! How long has it been?”

“Cerrik! I wondered how long it would be before you returned to these gates again.”

Their hands met with a loud clap. After some small talk, they turned towards the caravan, where everyone was lining up to present themselves for inspection. Captain Gibson’s eyebrows arched as his gaze reached Lady Alexandria standing beside the odd group of a horseman, a fox, and three unicorns.

“Cerrik—since when—?”

Cerrik grunted and frowned as he dismissively waved his hand. “It is a long story I am not going to bother you with now.”

Approving the rest of the retinue, the captain pointed to the leading group. “You are all to follow me, please,” he announced in a tone that was not as polite as his words.

Doing as they were told, they gathered by the captain. An elder in pristine white robes emblazoned with a golden sun joined them, followed by a much younger, plainer-dressed acolyte holding an ornate box. Egoraven cringed, seeing enough of them to know what a box of draining stones looked like.

Looking each of them over, the elder priest stopped in front of the unicorns, although he did not pay that much scrutiny to Orchid as he did to Egoraven and Amadaeo. He leaned on his golden staff. “By Helo the Sun King, this must be the strangest group I have ever seen brought by any land.”

Captain Gibson began his speech. “The barony of Dallyn is well respected, with Lord Cerrik himself being a high-ranking member of the Doornham knighthood. I cannot dispute their reputations.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Lady Alexandria replied, being as formal as the presentation.

“I am neither flattering nor welcoming you here,” Gibson answered sternly. “However, with the douban’s ranking in the circuit and our reports of its unusual adherence to local and kingdom law, I will hold the Barony of Dallyn responsible for its behavior and upkeep.”

Egoraven flushed at being spoken about as if she were a common animal. “Egoraven, sir. My name is Egoraven,” she muttered, earning a firm hand on her shoulder.

“Hush,” Johar whispered, tightening his grip to stress his point. If the captain noticed, he did not react. Instead, he nodded to the priest, who waved his acolyte forward with the box, presenting it to Alexandria and Cerrik.

“Your creatures will wear these for the entirety of their stay.”

The acolyte opened the box, revealing a set of pendants covered in sigils. Amadaeo’s ears perked forward, his eyes widening. “Powerful runes. I can feel them from here,” he whispered to Egoraven, who had already tightened her lips to not say anything.

Handing his staff to another guard, the elder priest began to place the talismans around each neck. Johar respectfully lowered himself for his, garnering a grateful smile from the shorter man. Morgan toyed with his talisman, unsure what it was supposed to do. The priest then shuffled to the unicorn stallion, blinking for a bit, unsure how he would arrange the stone on him. Amadaeo lowered his head, carefully minding his horn and allowing the priest to tie it at the top of his neck. He felt him steal a stroke on his coat.

Then, finally, Egoraven bowed out of habit, not showing how fed up she was with wearing the infernal things. She hated the way they interfered with her magic, making her distracted and constantly tingling, and not even in a slightly enjoyable way. As the priest knotted the cord, she suddenly felt her stomach turn.

“Powerful runes indeed,” she heard Amadaeo grumble as the back of her throat flooded with bile. She swallowed hard, but the burning only worsened.

“I feel sick—” Egoraven whined as the color drained from her face.

The unicorn nuzzled her. “It’s the spell working. Just try to overcome it.”

Satisfied, Captain Gibson looked them over one more time and nodded. “The pendants must be worn in full view at all times. Mage-priests will also be on hand to ensure the charms are in place. If any of your creatures are caught without them, they will be immediately placed under arrest. Do you understand?”

Lady Alexandria gave a deep curtsey to the captain and the priest. “We relinquish ourselves to your law and wisdom.”

“You may go.” The captain signaled for the gate to be fully opened.  

The elder priest raised his hands in one more blessing. “May Helo the Sun guide you on the path of righteousness.” As the group dispersed back to the carriages, Egoraven stumbled, the spell in the talisman doing more than just making her tingle.

Cerrik watched as he lingered in rejoining them, feeling Captain Gibson come up behind him. “You risk so much bringing them here.”

The knight answered with a grunt. “That choice was made by choosing Alexandria. Bringing them here only gives me the advantage.” About to leave, he turned back. “Captain, I must ask. Have you heard any rumors about dragons on the move?” The only answer he received was the severe look on Gibson’s face.

By the carriage, Egoraven held on to its side, trying to regain herself with labored breathing. The stone felt heavy as if it would drag her to the ground any minute.

“Are you all right? You look pale.” Alexandria placed a gentle hand on her.

“This is not like the draining stones from before—” Egoraven could barely get the words out before her stomach lurched, and this time, she couldn’t control the oncoming flood. Bolting from her place, she fell to her knees between the back wheels and violently wretched. Alexandria and Orchid ran to her side, comforting her. Amadaeo walked over, not looking too well himself.

“Their suspicions have made them lean towards overkill. We will be uncomfortable for a while, but it will pass.”

Egoraven dry heaved, then took a gasping breath. “My head is whirling. How do they expect me to compete with this thing?” She felt Alexandria dab her sweaty brow with a handkerchief while Orchid held her hair away from her face.

“Maybe they don’t intend you to.” Everyone turned their heads to see Cerrik nearby, leading his horse and getting the rest of their caravan moving.

Helping Egoraven back to her hooves, Alexandria shot him a dirty look, which he ignored. “Come. King Jason has graciously allowed us to stay at his castle.”

Morgan’s ears perked forward. “The king? We’re actually going to stay with the king?”

Cerrik chuckled mockingly at the fox’s excitement. “The palace is immense with dozens of wings with hundreds of rooms in each. We could live in the castle for years and probably never see His Highness.”

“Regardless, we will be able to rest there,” Alexandria replied as she and Orchid helped Egoraven into the carriage.

While getting the other horses together, Morgan kept his eye on Cerrik, flattening his ears. The competitors on the lists that Egoraven would face in the upcoming days were not the ones she would have to be careful with.

* * *

Silver clarions blared, and church bells rang at the start of the final leg of tournament season, with the entire city abuzz. Colorful flags and banners seeming to hang from every surface fluttered wildly as if they, too, could not contain themselves. Heraldry of the represented houses, along with the royal crests of Ternam and Varcyn, were displayed, all under the austere gaze of the sun king and the moon goddess on golden plaques and standards. Knights on destriers covered in rich-hued trappings paraded through the streets through the cheering rabble, but not everyone stopped to celebrate their passing.  

A small group of young men, students in their freshmen robes from the Varcyn College of Sorcery, reluctantly walked through the streets, desperate to engage in the festivities. Clutching their textbooks, they gossiped and laughed with each other as they were trailed by their teacher, making sure they didn’t become too distracted and stray from their paths.

“Have you seen the rosters? It’s a veritable who’s who of knighthood.” Kellis adjusted the books in his arms, regretting forgetting his satchel back at the dormitory.

Treysal let out an exaggerated whistle. “I think it’s the best gathering I’ve seen in a while. I can’t wait for it to start.”

“Don’t get wrapped up in the tourney too much.” Morris kept his head down as they walked. “We still have our own assemblies to worry about.” His words weren’t as convincing as he wanted them to be.

“Bah! They do that every year!” Treysal groaned as he raked his fingers through his unkempt blond hair. “Why do they insist on holding the Sorcery Symposium at the same time as tournament?”

This time, their teacher jumped into the boys’ conversation. “It’s to teach dedication to your studies, something you should be showing right now.” He tugged on the strap of his pack, having an easier time ignoring the surrounding buzz than his charges.

“Of course, the shut-in teacher-mage would say that,” scoffed the blond. “Maybe if you got out more, you would understand our excitement, Desmond.”

“That’s Mr. Treemont to you, Mr. Reinhard,” Desmond replied to Treysal with a smirk. “At least while class is in session, and technically, class is still in session right now, even outside. And maybe if you worried less about the lists and more about your studies, you would not be so behind right now.” He watched Treysal roll his head and let out an annoyed groan.

“Oh, I’m not that behind.”

“No, you ARE a behind!” Treysal shot a glare at Morris, who poorly pretended he didn’t say anything, earning a laugh from the rest of the group. As they continued ribbing each other, they passed a message board with a newly tacked parchment. Like magpies to shiny stones, the boys rushed to the board to the exasperation of their teacher. Desmond extended his arms in disbelief.

“Wow, you were right about the knights.” Morris pointed to the shields on the chart. “Sir Richard of Baylin, Sir Hanron of Gwellor, Theron of Samaril...”

Treysal shot out a finger of his own at another shield grouping. “Look here! Akin of Tameron. I’m definitely going to have to see this one! I hope they still have tickets.”

They continued perusing the tournament brackets, completely ignoring Desmond, who folded his arms and tapped his foot behind them. “Okay, students. Remember, we’re walking towards Mage-teacher Forrester’s lecture. We’re going to be late if we don’t move on.”

Kellis pointed to one more emblem. “Hey, look at this crest. I’ve never seen that one before. “

Treysal squinted at the odd name. “Egoraven of Edinrahn...”

Desmond felt his eyes widen and his stomach drop. “Wait, what did you say?” To the boys' surprise, he pushed forward to the board, not wanting to believe what he had just heard. He followed where Kellis still held his finger on the design—a sun shield flanked by a unicorn and an elf.

“Edinrahn?” The name seemed to fall out of Desmond’s mouth.

“Now I know you’ve been studying too much,” Morris answered smugly. “This Egoraven is actually pretty big news on the tourney circuit. A half-unicorn woman from the Valley of the Elves. All the bards have been singing about her.”

“There's no way they’re allowing her to compete here,” gasped Kellis. The priests must be having convulsions just at the thought.”

Treysil looked at the chart and shrugged. “Well, she’s on the list. That means she is.”

Desmond could barely hear anything his students were saying as his mind whirled with memories he hadn’t thought about in years. Or at least he tried not to think about them. He ran his hand over his brown hair, then covered his mouth in contemplation, staring at the crest.

This can’t be. It can’t be possible.

“Hey, I thought we weren’t supposed to get caught up in tourney.” Treysal wondered if he should be concerned about his teacher’s reaction to a simple tournament bracket sheet.

Snapping out of his trance, Desmond caught himself fingering the bottom of his leather bookbag. “You know, you’re right,” he replied. “I think we do deserve a reprieve. Let’s go get some tickets.”

The students erupted in a chorus of excited cheers that turned heads toward them. “Skipping Forrester’s lecture is the best thing I’ve heard all semester!” Treysal crowed. Kellis adjusted the books in his arms again, now really regretting forgetting his satchel.

* * *

The tournament settlement was bustling with swarms of crews working to prepare their lieges for the upcoming contests. Squires and attendants darted between multicolored tents, rushing to complete their preparations. At one red-striped canopy, an exhausted unicorn stallion lay in the shade, dozing among the commotion.

“Are you feeling all right?” Johar gave Amadaeo a comforting pat. “You still do not look well.”

Amadaeo gave a fatigued breath.  “The charm is still wreaking havoc with me, but I shall be fine.”

The horse man crouched to be eye level with the unicorn. “I am concerned it is keeping you from protecting yourself from the Pull.”

“It is something I must suffer through,” Amadaeo replied. “I do not want Egoraven to worry about me.”

They both looked over to the unicorn girl being suited up by her fox squire, oblivious to their conversation.

“Despite a rough start, Egoraven is lucky that she does not suffer your same fate.” Johar leaned on his knees and laced his fingers.

“It is not luck that protects her—” Amadaeo closed his eyes and snoozed, not completing his thought. Johar nodded and brushed the stallion’s forelock out of his eyes, careful not to touch his horn.

Tightening the strap on the breastplate, Morgan grunted as he saw a blonde woman promenading through the rows of tents. The sudden urgency in his work raised Egoraven’s curiosity, snapping her out of her glaze of boredom. Also noticing Alexandria, joined by Orchid and Cerrik, she took a deep breath to control her nausea from the talisman and brace herself against Alexandria’s upcoming assault.

“Don’t they have anything else better to do than to constantly bother you?” Morgan grumbled with a sneer.

Egoraven let out an exasperated sigh. “Bothering me is what they do.”

The fox and the unicorn both huffed at the same time.

As if the entirety of the camp didn’t exist, Lady Alexandria bounded into their space, with her companions not showing the same energy. “We were just on our way to the stands, and I figured we make a detour to see how you’ve been holding up,” the lady chirped as she hugged the reluctant unicorn.

“She completely insisted,” Orchid added, trying to lighten the air. As she brushed her formal riding dress, Egoraven wondered if she had ever worn any color other than scarlet and gold ochre.  

 “Holding up as best as I can with this damn thing on,” Egoraven shrugged as Morgan tied the pauldrons in place. Any other time, Orchid’s presence would have been enough to lift her mood, but the internal fighting her magic did with the magic of the talisman kept her with a sour attitude that was difficult to shake off. But despite how she felt, she gave a respectful nod to Cerrik, who nodded back without any attempt at verbal salutation. Egoraven was sure that wasn’t a good sign.

Before the lady could indulge in more useless chatter that would only slow them down, he spoke to the trio. “Look—the first rounds are coming up. Why don’t you ladies get comfortable while we finish our preparations.” He tried to sound as polite as possible, but his face betrayed otherwise.

“A wonderful idea,” Orchid replied, picking up the hint from the fox. “Alexandria, we should go to our viewing box if we want to beat the crowds.”

The lady frowned, not wanting to leave so quickly, but knew the contests would start soon. “You are right, Orchid. I shall see you later.” Alexandria bounded back to Egoraven. “Here—for luck.” Jumping on her toes, Alexandria planted a lingering peck on Egoraven’s lips, much to the shock of her champion and squire. With equal flourish and defiance, she skipped back to Cerrik’s side as Orchid followed with a glance back that was almost apologetic. As they turned the corner, Morgan saw Cerrik take one last look at them, an odd smirk on his face. Morgan turned back to complete the armor setup, his fur flaring and his ears flattening.

“Do me a favor and keep an eye on Cerrik,” he muttered in Egoraven’s ear. “I’m afraid he’s up to something. And it doesn’t help that his wife-to-be doesn’t know how to behave.”

Egoraven didn’t know what to say, so she answered with a shake of her head and a deep frown. Win or lose, knighthood or not, she was ready for all this to be over with.

The tupinaire started routinely enough against a knight wearing a blue and grey surcoat. Egoraven had long stopped memorizing her opponents’ titles and names, preferring to just get in the ring and fight. Johar had scolded her many times for that bad habit, as it made mingling at the banquets difficult. Once they became a regular part of the Beusaugh retinue, Egoraven had just as much given up on being seen as anything but one of the lady’s exotic pets. Even if she made it before King Jason, would he see her as any different? She felt the impact of the first of three strikes that would mark the round.

Caught off guard by the force of the hit, she shook her head, trying to regain her footing, but couldn’t fight the power of the burdensome talisman that clouded her judgment. The knight charged like a bull, and another blow was felt and called.

Roaring in frustration, Egoraven lunged at the blue and grey knight, her tail whipping like a flag. Their swords clashing against each other, even blunted, she could feel the amount of force being passed through the blade at her. Determined to get in one point before the round ended, Egoraven forced her concentration around the draining spell, her panting echoing in her helm louder than usual. She felt her blade meet her opponent’s back, and a point was finally called in her favor. The round was lost, but at least she could regroup herself.

Removing her helm, Johar wiped her brow, cleaning the rolling sweat from her eyes. “You’re sluggish. Are you okay?”

“It’s the damn talisman,” the unicorn grunted. “I feel a bit winded, but I can make it.” She turned to look at the opposite end of the ring. “And it doesn’t help he’s being overly aggressive.” Her gaze was met by scowls from the knight and his squires, but she didn’t react to them. “I’m lucky this isn’t a battle of stares. He would have won by now.” Egoraven threw her helm back on as the herald waved his flag and called for the start of the second round.

The attack came hard and fast. It was apparent this knight in blue and grey wanted to gain his next points as quickly as possible, but this time, Egoraven was prepared, deflecting his feints until his irritation was beginning to show in his moves.

This is no ordinary contest. His attacks grow stronger and more determined. He doesn’t just want to win. I have to push myself harder, but the talisman feels so heavy—wearing me down.

They circled each other, their exhaustion apparent, but neither willing to give any quarter. The crowd buzzed with suspense but also impatience. As entertaining as the show was, it was also going on too long, making them restless. Egoraven felt the pressure but didn’t want to let the crowd dictate what she should do.

Sometimes, all that I have is not enough.  

Allowing herself a moment, she peeked towards the stands, hoping to gain some strength from a glimpse of scarlet. As she scanned the viewing box, she smiled at Orchid, seated and engrossed in the proceedings instead of the empty chair she was afraid to see again.

And a familiar face spells my doom...

In that exact second, another individual seated behind her muse stole her notice—one Egoraven hadn’t seen in the better part of a year and was hoping she wouldn’t see until much longer still.  

“Rillian!” she heard herself shout. The full-body double-take she took was all the opening her opponent needed. Rushing forward, he thrust his blade for the point. Feeling the shock of the hit, Egoraven realized immediately something was wrong. Pain shot up her side, followed by a rush of warmth spreading as the blade was pulled from the side seam in her armor, and the talisman forced her magic from attending to the wound. She hadn’t just been struck. She had been stabbed.

As the crowd collectively gasped, the elf prince leaned back in his seat in the observation box, a huge, satisfied smile on his face as he watched the unicorn knight suddenly struggle, especially taking notice of a petite blond noble lady reacting in horror to the injury on the field as she was attended to by a second unicorn in scarlet and golden ochre.