Chapter 6: Seeds of Chaos

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

“You can’t go back out there. Remove the armor now!” Johar reached out, only to be swatted away by an armored hand.

“No! I’m fine! Let me be!” Egoraven cried back, not even bothering to remove her helm as she regrouped herself for the final round. She could feel the blood soaking through her shirt, the pain making her eyes sting and water. She clenched her teeth, calling on the sapling of magic, feeling it throwing itself against the force of the talisman to no avail. I need just a little. Just enough to get through this…

Johar, Morgan, and Amadaeo watched helplessly as the herald called the round, and the seam of her armor grew darker. With one more attempt, Egoraven felt the slightest tingles subsiding the pain in her side; not enough to be gone, but enough for her to notice that was all she would get until she could remove the charm altogether. The squires of the blue and grey knight smiled smugly as their liege rushed to the center of the ring, expecting an easy finish against his wounded opponent. Egoraven charged forward, unwilling to give them what they wanted.

The crowd roared, knowing the end was near, but the victor was still yet to be decided. Egoraven put all her weight into her blows, rocking the knight with a forcefulness he was not expecting and throwing him off his footing. The talisman swung violently with every thrust and parry, her sword finally marking a point.

TAP!

The knight lunged, hoping to strike a matching point, but adrenaline proved stronger than magic as Egoraven feinted, pirouetting into another strike on his armor.

TAP!

The crowd popped to their feet, screaming. The elf prince did not follow their lead, preferring to sit back and entwine his fingers, his smile narrower than his dark eyes.

Egoraven’s unintended aggression had its effect as the knight in blue and grey heaved with exhaustion. His underestimation of an impaired adversary cost the price of one more strike against his back.

TAP!

Tossing off her helmet, Egoraven gasped for breath, feeling the herald grab her arm and raise it in victory. His words could not be heard over the final roar of the crowd.

“The winner—Egoraven of Edinrahn!”

Swallowing hard, she grimaced as the herald’s pull made the pain in her side burst through her, making her eyes water again. Looking towards the stands, Egoraven noticed Orchid and Alexandria clutching each other in worry and relief as they called out to her. Still, even through the tears she refused to let fall, her eyes could not help but meet those of the one who sat behind them—the traitorous prince of Edinrahn, applauding her victory with slow, exaggerated claps.

Before she could even react to how Rillian was able to be seated with the human nobles as if he belonged there, she felt hands grasping at her. Turning, she was startled at seeing Johar with a grave expression on his face and unconsciously followed him as he firmly escorted her out of the ring.

“Rillian—I saw Rillian in the stands—” Egoraven babbled as she reached the fence where Amadaeo and Morgan waited. Amadaeo, surprised at her words, quickly turned towards the seats and squinted.  

“Are you sure?” he asked, wondering if the pain was making her see things. He did not find anything unusual with the nobles waiting for the next contest as if nothing unusual had happened.

Johar urged Egoraven onward. “You can talk about this back at the tent. We need to get this armor off you,” he said sternly, but not enough to hide his concern.

“I cannot believe this. You’ve never been harmed at tourney before.” Amadaeo looked on worried as Johar and Morgan quickly undid the ties and buckles. Egoraven hissed as the full extent of the damage was revealed, her entire left side caked with blood. There was no concern with modesty in the tournament camp as her shirt was just as quickly removed to tend to the gash in her side as Johar studied the seams of the breastplate and plackart.

Morgan trotted over with a bucket of clean water and a rag. “Here. Let me see that.” Egoraven sucked in her breath as he carefully tended to the wound. He noticed another cut, most likely from the dented pauldron shifting, but it wasn’t as concerning as the one in her waist. “The arm’s not too bad, but the one in your side is a little deep.”

“If it weren’t for the runes, they would have been gone by now.” She scrunched her face to control the stinging in her eyes, trying to coax the sapling again. She could feel it spark and tingle, but the talisman continued to beat it back down to a sputter, but not before it succeeded in releasing a little bit more healing magic to temper the remaining pain.

Pulling out strips of cloth, Morgan began wrapping her waist. “We’re going to have to bandage that up tight.”

The unicorn stallion looked on, confused. “You don’t expect her to continue in this condition, do you?”

Egoraven winced as she felt the bandages constrict. “I must finish the rest of my contest schedule. It will heal properly once we get back to the castle.”

Amadaeo turned to Johar, expecting some protest in agreement with him, but instead, Johar frowned and continued to reinforce the seams with padding as best he could until he could access a forge. The unicorn gave a deep sigh.

The day of tourney continued, and between the pain and her magic fighting the talisman, Egoraven’s mind was a blur. The blue and grey knight's aggression was not the fluke she had hoped. Every knight she faced after him seemed determined to turn each contest into a personal vendetta for the honor of every human she dared fight against.

Even the crowd seemed to turn against her on a whim, but it did not stop her from fighting and, despite all of them, winning. And with every step, Rillian was there, shadowing her, moving through the throngs of humans unchallenged. In between bouts, Egoraven would obsessively try to remember his stories, unable to recall him explaining what precisely he did to stay alive among mortals who would have no issue killing an elf. Yet here he was in the stands, mocking her with his presence. And even worse, he always seemed too much in the proximity of Lady Alexandria and her handmaiden, with not even Cerrik noticing he was there. With Amadaeo also not being able to see him, Egoraven began to wonder if the stress of finals was making her hallucinate Rillian’s presence.

The last contests of the day ended, the masses began to break up and return to their homes. As the odd troupe made their way back to the castle, no one noticed the students from the sorcerer’s school as they passed. The boys vibrated in excitement at their impromptu excursion, gossiping and regaling their favorite moments of tourney to each other as if they were not also there to see it. Their teacher stood silently aside, contemplating the unicorn girl as she left, unconsciously raking his fingers through his unkempt hair, the exact same shade of brown as hers.

Relieved to be behind closed doors, Egoraven snatched the talisman from her neck, flicking it with disdain onto the nightstand by the bed. Almost immediately, her magic swirled inside her, finally free to do what it had been fighting to do all day. She let out a long, relieved sigh as she sat on the bed, removing her shirt as Morgan joined her with a fresh set of bandages. Peeling away the blood-encrusted strips, the fox gasped. Where just that morning was a concerning injury that would have taken days for a human to mend from was now nothing more than a dark bruise—ugly looking yet obviously healing.

“It’s already beginning to fade,” he said in astonishment as he still made the effort to clean and rebandage her waist.

“It still hurts, though.” Egoraven leaned over, the exhaustion of the day getting to her.

Amadaeo took a place next to the bed. “We can be thankful they at least allow us to remove these cursed stones behind closed doors. But I shall keep mine on for now as I wish to explore the gardens. They seem to be private enough.”

Taking a seat in an armchair by the corner, Johar also felt drained from the incredibly stressful day and appreciated finally being able to relax in the large elegant room accented with dark wood panels over stone. It was undoubtedly a vast improvement over the cramped taverns, and now they would each have their own beds with space to spare for the elder unicorn. “Just don’t forget to put yours back on if you leave, Egoraven. Champion or not, I don’t think Alexandria’s father is going to ante up to get any of us out of prison.”

Egoraven smirked. “After today, I’m not leaving this room if I can help it. I’d rather be holed up in here until the end of finals than wear that damned stone for another minute.” Her grin faded as her thoughts returned to her ultimate distraction. “I can’t believe Rillian is here,” she muttered.

“Are you sure it was him?” Amadaeo asked. “I do not think this city, or any, for that matter, would have let an elf in so easily.”

The horse man in the chair nodded. “Very true. Maybe it was just someone who looked like him?”

Egoraven shook her head. “No, I’m sure. I’m positive it was him—ouch!”

“Sorry about that.” Morgan winced at her reaction, then finished tying the bandage. “There—it’s as good as it’s going to get.”

“Thanks,” Egoraven replied, smiling at him. Feeling the new bandages tight on her waist, she didn’t have the heart to tell the fox his effort was most likely wasted by her now unencumbered healing magic.

The door swung open with a slam, startling everyone in the room. In a flash of silver and gold, Lady Alexandria rushed in. “Egoraven! I saw what that filthy knight did to you!” Without giving her the opportunity even to realize what was happening, the petite blond jumped into the unicorn girl’s arms, almost throwing her back onto the mattress. Morgan popped off the bed from the force, staring with annoyance until the unicorn in scarlet entered the room with less urgency than her lady. His ears flattened at her presence.

Egoraven composed herself as best she could, ignoring the feeling of Alexandria’s odd caresses on her bare skin that sent a wave of uncomfortable goosebumps. “You didn’t need to rush to see me. I am perfectly fine.” She held out a hand to Orchid, who took it more out of politeness. Alexandria's embrace grew tighter, nuzzling her neck, but Egoraven could only see the sun-kissed unicorn before her. Her ears twitched, and her tail gave a slight wag. She did not notice Morgan also keeping his eyes on Orchid, but with a suspicious glare instead of reverence.

“With the way you won your other contests after your injury, I would agree that such a pressing visit was unnecessary.” Orchid waved her closed fan for emphasis. “But Alexandria would not hear of it. She just had to make sure.”

As the three women continued their small talk, Johar lifted himself from his chair, which was becoming too comfortable the more he sat in it. “I’d better go take a good look at the armor and see if I can keep that from happening again."

The unicorn stallion nodded as he got to his hooves. “I shall come with you.”

The only one who didn’t take the hint was the fox in the corner. He sulked and glared, especially at Orchid, earning a quick but equal side-eye from her. Gingerly stepping around the ladies, Amadaeo took Morgan’s collar between his teeth, much to his surprise.

“Come, little one,” he mumbled through the fabric. “Egoraven needs her rest if she is to compete tomorrow.” Morgan wriggled like a whiny fish on a line until Amadaeo dropped him by the open door, nudging him outside.

Orchid tapped her fan against her shoulder. “We should make our way as well.”

Egoraven’s ears drooped, and her grip tightened around her hand. “Please stay,” she pleaded. “The men smother me so much that I could use companionship that has nothing to do with tourney.”

Taking her hand back, Orchid gave a small smile, mainly as a cue to Alexandria, who still clutched her champion as if she would run away if she let go—not that she was incorrect.

“I’m sorry, but my lady has some obligations of her own to attend to.” Orchid kept her gaze, causing the lady to slowly back down from her possessive embrace.

“Speaking of smothering...” she grumbled with a frown.

“We all have our tasks,” Egoraven replied as she gently pulled away from her.

Smothering, indeed.

Alexandria huffed, accepting her fate. “Well, I hope you feel better, and I will see you at banquet.” In her typical manner, she leaned and kissed Egoraven on the cheek, this time without the fervor of making a betrothed jealous.

“And I shall see you at banquet as well,” Egoraven said to Orchid, the words coming out a little too demanding than intended.

Orchid gave a slight arch of her brow at the tone. “As you wish, Champion.”

Alexandria stood and brushed off her dress, casually turning away to hide her face as she took notice of how the two unicorns interacted with each other.

With the sound of ruffling silk and brocade dresses, the two women made their leave. Egoraven kept her smile until the door closed behind them, leaving her finally alone. She didn’t realize how long she had been holding her breath until a deep exhale escaped her. A sudden soreness caught her attention, and she rubbed the bandages on her side, grimacing but glad the pain had been traded for a dull ache instead. Hoping Johar, Morgan, and Amadaeo would take their time to return to the room, she ungracefully flopped backward onto the mattress, more than happy to allow exhaustion to drag her into a welcome, deep sleep.

* * *

The banquet was the same as all the other banquets. The only difference was that the royal dining hall dwarfed those from the smaller cities, with more opulent décor to remind everyone of where they were and whose presence they were in, even if King Jason wasn’t physically there. There was no mistaking this was the heart of Ternam.

Lords and ladies from all the surrounding provinces making up the kingdom, of which Egoraven recognized many, gathered for the grand feast. Saying no to a royal invitation was unheard of, and denying it was at your peril.

Egoraven slowly made her way through the hall as she always did, but this time with Lady Alexandria hanging off her arm. The lady made the transition from list to banquet easier but no more enjoyable. Her incessant chattering irritated the unicorn, and the forcing of her noble peers to interact with her grated. Egoraven made the best of the situation as her escort, but the cold reception she continued to receive, even with Alexandria’s efforts, made hiding her annoyance more challenging than the contests themselves. The irony was not lost on Egoraven that even in the mortal capital of magic, she, the most magical of them all, would still not find any acceptance. Maybe these people deserved to have dragons knock down their doors.

“Oh look, there’s Orchid,” Alexandria chirped, the first words from the lady that Egoraven paid actual attention to. She perked up, turning to see the unicorn in scarlet mingling with a small yet very attentive group of lords. Egoraven felt a frown on her lips, and her ears flattened. Didn’t what happened by the stream mean anything to you?

“It’s nice to know that despite everything, Orchid has no trouble fitting in,” Egoraven heard beside her. She shook her head, banishing the envy of those men she was feeling. She focused on the lady as a distraction. “Oh, and how is that pendant treating you?” Alexandria looked up at her.

“It still causes some trouble, but it’s manageable.” Egoraven let out a breath. Her sapling of magic cried otherwise.

“I am glad for that,” Alexandria answered, unsure what else to say about it. As they meandered through the hall, the lady continued her mingling with the guests as Egoraven stayed mostly polite and quiet, stealing glances at the group of men still going through the show of courting a unicorn woman in a dress of scarlet and golden ochre.

Letting her mind wander, Egoraven contemplated the scene. How did being a courtesan even work? It’s not like these overly eager lords were genuinely competing for her favor, just a schedule. But how did Orchid decide which were more worthy than others? Did they lavish her with gifts? Did she choose by their rank? Family lineage? They were all very capable of worshiping her as she deserved. But could any of them truly love Orchid?

Egoraven stopped, feeling her cheeks heat up.

The lords, completing their conversations, went their separate ways, finally freeing Orchid from their advances. With her obligations to their regard done, she walked up to Alexandria, who beamed at her return. Egoraven smiled, happy she was now with them, but still felt the bite of resentment.

“You’re late,” Egoraven said, immediately realizing it was strange to say because Orchid had been at the party the entire time they had been there.

If Orchid caught the inflection in her voice, she did not let on. “I do apologize. I had some business to take care of and didn’t think it would take that long.”

“Of course.”

The banquet went on as before, the odd trio making their rounds as more of Alexandria’s friends began to join them for the latest gossip and tales from the high court. At one point, during a particularly juicy retelling of a story of a romantically flamboyant duchess, Alexandria let go of Egoraven’s arm, finally freeing her from her clutches. Egoraven did not bolt right away, instead preferring to inch further from the gaggle of ladies until it was apparent that none of them were paying attention to her presence. Before long, she melded into the crowd in the great hall—as best as a unicorn girl could, anyway. Finding a short pillar crowned by a giant vase of lush flowers, she folded her arms and tucked herself into a corner. At least no one could say she didn’t stay for the entire reception.

The sapling of magic screamed inside her, twisting her gut. Overwhelmed with dread, Egoraven was taken by surprise. Figuring it was another reaction to the talisman, she ignored it until a familiar pair of eyes peeked at her from around the column.

“It must be hard being with a woman whose affections will never be yours.”

“Mind your own business, Rillian.”

The elf prince strutted around the pillar until he was next to Egoraven but not facing her, resting his elbow casually on the edge of the vase. Egoraven felt the rage bubble up in her chest as she noticed the faint shimmering around his head, distorting his face slightly like looking through almost perfect glass, but not quite. She could see him clearly enough but now understood why the mortals surrounding him at tourney and now at this banquet didn’t.

Glamour.

“Oh, so you did recognize me,” Rillian chirped. “I was wondering. I guess, despite those medallions, you can see right through the glamour. It’s an old trick I’ve always used. Everyone else sees a boring human.” He chuckled. “I wish you could see it. It’s amazing how ridiculous you can look and still be taken seriously if the humans believe it enough.” A sly smile cracked his mouth. “But you wouldn’t know, would you.”

“I should just report you,” Egoraven snapped.

“And admit your magic isn’t completely blocked? I don’t think so.” Rillian flippantly looked at his nails, indifferent to the unicorn seething beside him.

“What are you doing in Varcyn?” she asked through clenched teeth.

He turned to her, feigning bewilderment. “What? No hello? Can’t a man come and enjoy his tournaments?”

Egoraven jabbed a golden finger at him, a finger she knew she could stab him with if she used enough force. “Your dragons didn’t just let you leave.” Her tail whipped.

“True enough,” he answered, rubbing his chin and ignoring her growing anger. “So, how is your uncle doing? Amadeo, is it? He’s been away from the Valley for so long. Surely, he must have spoken at least once about returning?”

 The unicorn snapped at his nonchalant attempt at conversation, especially how he dared to invoke her uncle’s name. “Leave him out of this! I know you are here because of me, so just be done with it! What do you want?”

Heads turned at the yelling. Rillian gave a satisfied grin, baring his teeth at her, as Egoraven tightened her lips, realizing she had walked right into it. In a flashback to Duke Mercer’s castle, the crowd broke, revealing an imposing man in voluminous robes, bejeweled chains, and a gleaming crown on his head, walking towards them. Guards against the wall stood at the ready.

“Your Highness.” Rillian gave a deep bow, the glamour sparkling as his magic did its work. Egoraven felt the talisman pull at her neck. With a delayed, awkward reaction, she curtsied. King Jason arched his brow, and she trembled under his glare.

He turned to Rillian, who she could already tell switched to whatever alternate persona he was playing.

“Are you being bothered…?” King Jason's voice trailed, contemplating the unicorn’s companion. “I am sorry, I do not think we have met.”

With a broad, affected smile, Rillian presented himself to the monarch. “Sir Robert Mayfair of the Highwater Providence in Penbronte.”

Egoraven almost choked on her saliva.

“Penbronte? You are a long way from home for just a tourney.” It was apparent the king was racking his brain for any previous memory of this noble.

“I am well-traveled, my lord,” Rillian answered, waving a flaccid hand beside him. “And no offense meant by my companion. The beastly side tends to get the better of her.” Egoraven shot him an angry scowl as he gave a painfully contrived laugh. She never wanted to hear that sound again.

King Jason shared a chuckle and looked over Egoraven one more time. “Your performance has been commendable so far. I look forward to seeing how far you go.”

Egoraven couldn’t help her face turning an intense red, so she curtsied again, keeping her eyes down. “Thank you, your highness,” she croaked.

Nodding his head, he returned to his guests, but not without glancing at the two one last time. All eyes returned to the banquet as the guards noticeably stood down.

Regaining herself from the compliment, Egoraven let out a breath and turned back to Rillian. “Robert Mayfair?” she mocked.

Rillian was unfazed. “To begin with, I suggest we go somewhere more private.” Gritting her teeth, Egoraven followed, walking until they ended up in a cloister garth well away from the banquet hall.

Finally alone, she wondered if Rillian would make too much noise for anyone to notice if she strangled him here. “So, do the Raikashans still call you Prince Rillian, or do you just go by Rillian nowadays?” She decided instead to be petty, saving the option of violence for another day.

“I didn’t come all this way to make you my enemy.” Rillian looked over the courtyard, blooming with lilies and white roses.

The unicorn snorted. “Isn’t it a little late to be concerned about that? Your presence means things aren’t going as well as you bargained." She grew concerned at her realization. “We are quite the journey from Edinrahn. Is that the glamour as well?”

Clutching at something underneath his jerkin at his throat, he turned serious. “I needed intervention to accomplish this much. The Raikashans know I will have to return soon.”

Smirking, Egoraven pinned her ears and planted her fists on her waist. “What need of a leash? Ahhh—and of course, they’re expecting you to bring me back.”

The elf prince suddenly became hostile. “They are obsessed with this illusion of building a grand empire but cannot even step a mile outside of the Valley. You are the only one the Valley does not call to, and Lord Bilakath wants to know why.”

Her ears perked forward at his change of demeanor. “Maybe it’s because I have no magic to bind.” The magic fighting in her twisted again. Not enough for the elves, too much for the humans, she thought.

“No, that’s where you’re wrong,” Rillian snapped, insulted that she would even try to lie like that. “The only way the Pull does not affect you is because you possess a great source of power that protects you.”

Egoraven let out an echoing, incredulous laugh she didn’t recognize. “Do you know how much magic that would have to be? They force me to wear this charm when I can barely shapeshift! Not exactly the sign of a great magical center.” She flicked the stone around her neck.

The elf’s eyes narrowed, unamused at her reaction. “That’s why we—you must return to the Valley. Bilakath knows you’re trying to build renown to assemble an army against him.” He stepped forward, leaning into Egoraven, as he licked his teeth. “But what lord has even looked at you beyond mere amusement? What nobleman has taken you as more than light afternoon fare at tournament?"

“Stop—” Her face flushed, and her ears drooped.

He continued. “A mix-breed with no kingdom with a whore as a consort. Who is going to take you seriously to back an army against the Dragon Lords? And that’s saying a lot because humans hate those foul creatures more than they hate elves.”

Feeling her chest tighten, Egoraven’s mind raced until she snapped out of her stupor. “Creatures you helped put in power!” she cried at him, her anger returning.

“Creatures we can take out,” he answered without missing a beat. The longer you stay away, the more in danger your people will be—and the fewer of them as well.”

“How dare you,” she growled. “You made a deal with the Raikashans to hasten your ascension, only to have that denied you once they took control. Now you want to try again from the other side. You abandoned your people once, and I know you will do it again.”

“And you are not abandoning your people?” Rillian opened his arms. “How long does Alaric have to waste in his cage? How long must Blackavar linger before the dragons decide what to do with him? How many tournaments will you fight before you decide to return to Edinrahn? Collecting trinkets at the whim of your human audience while your herd disappears one by one?” He squared his shoulders and pointed at her. “When will you accept your fate as one of the heirs of Edinrahn?” His voice boomed through the courtyard.

“One of?” Egoraven screeched. “I’ll be damned if I return to Edinrahn with a snake like you!” She clenched her hands into tight fists. Maybe she should have chosen violence after all.

The sound of fabric rustling and heels on stone interrupted the argument, catching the attention of both. Egoraven gasped as Orchid entered the cloister, confused at what she was walking in on.

“I was looking all over for you. Alexandria is ready to leave.”  

Egoraven stepped between Orchid and Rillian. “I, too, have gotten weary of this banquet,” she announced, intending to brook no argument and remove herself and Orchid from his presence as quickly as possible. She caught a shimmering from the corner of her eye, and her talisman tugged again.

“And who might this elegant creature be?” The affected voice scratched against her psyche, making her cringe. To her horror, Orchid had a different reaction.

“My sir, I am Orchid, handmaiden to the lady Alexandria of Dallyn. And you are—?” She held out her perfectly manicured hand.

Rillian, or Sir Robert Mayfair, pranced forward, taking the sun-kissed hand and planting an exaggerated peck above her knuckles. Orchid preened at the display, obviously taken by the glamour. Egoraven couldn’t decide what enraged her more.

“One whose presence bows before one such as you,” Rillian cooed, letting out that laugh that was enough to make Egoraven willing to kill him just for it. Without thinking, she forced herself between them, startling Orchid.

“That’s enough!” Egoraven yelled as she shoved the elf prince away, grabbing the fabric of his jerkin and feeling something at the dip of his collarbone poke into her palm.

Suddenly frozen, her vision went black. A swirling hallucination engulfed her senses with visions of Dragon Lords and unicorns and a blood-covered Bilakath holding a unicorn horn, flanked by the hanging bodies of what she initially thought were butchered horses. The apparition morphed, revealing her father, Alaric, wasting away in a cage and a second unicorn of black and bronze, her brother Blackavar, wearing a golden collar covered in runes, his eyes white and unseeing. Distorted behind the mirage was a shadow in the shape of another dragon, not a Raikashan nor a Rakan, but something different—ethereal and haunting.

“Egoraven!”

The sound of her name in Orchid’s voice was enough to wake her from her trance. Letting go, she stumbled backward into her arms. Both Orchid and Rillian looked on in bewilderment at what just happened as Egoraven caught her breath, fighting through the disorientation that felt it lasted much longer than it seemed.

“Egoraven, are you all right?” Orchid cried again, upset.

Wiping her face and shaking her head, she stared at Rillian in shock and anger. He blinked back, not understanding what he saw, but couldn’t help a sneer just the same.

“Orchid, let’s go,” Egoraven commanded. Orchid did not argue, only giving an apologetic glance to the lord Mayfair as she escorted her out of the cloister.

“Think very hard about what I said, Egoraven,” Rillian called as they were about to cross the threshold back into the corridor, his voice reverberating. “And be careful in your next matches. If I didn’t know any better, I would think those knights want to kill you.”

* * *

“Sir Galhad of Illain. Champion of the Kingdom of Faemyr and has recently come back from the battles of Norady. He has quite a reputation preceding him.”

“What kind of reputation?” Egoraven contemplated the knight on the opposite end of the ring. He was a mountain of a man in ominous black armor with an equally ominous scowl on his rugged face, barely hidden behind a thick dark beard. She almost rolled her eyes at the visual he was obviously trying to project and his squires reinforced with severe demeanors of their own despite their more colorful garb.

Johar tilted his head. “I heard he defeated a mercenary horde, armed with nothing but his dagger and a broken shield. ‘Victory at any cost’ is his personal motto.”

This time, the unicorn couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Oh, the melodrama,” she muttered. “Well, this isn’t a battlefield, so there are certain rules he has to follow.”

Morgan buckled and tied her armor as they spoke, being especially watchful over the seams.

“Speaking of which, how is your side?” Johar asked.

She unconsciously rubbed the area. “It’s still sore, but the wound has healed. Not even a scar.”

“Good to hear,” he replied. “Try not to get a matching one.” With one last inspection, the horse man and the fox loosed her into the arena.

Egoraven entered the ring, focusing on her opponent. His mythology may have been exaggerated for effect, but his physical being certainly was not.  Sir Galhad was the largest fighter she had ever faced and most certainly the strongest-looking. She could tell brute force was going to be more of an issue than actual skill, but she wasn’t that concerned. She was certain he was underestimating her own size and strength, and Egoraven was looking forward to teaching him how wrong his assumptions were going to be. Giving one last glance over to the nobles’ box, the seat next to Lady Alexandria was empty. Letting out a huff, Egoraven blocked out the bedlam of the crowd and put on her helm. The herald waved his flag to signal the start of the round.

“I will destroy you, half-breed,” Galhad roared, then threw on his own helmet.

Egoraven pantomimed a dismissive shrug. “You are more than welcome to try,” she answered, not caring if he could hear her or not.

Not wasting any time, Sir Galhad charged the unicorn like a massive black bull, apparently not being hyperbolic with his threat. Prepared for his force, Egoraven met his challenge, their swords clashing. Even though she anticipated his using his weight against her, Egoraven found herself thrown off by how much. With another crash, even with her counter, she was rattled off balance. The crowd gasped as they watched her stagger but just as quickly regain her footing. Trying to catch her breath, she attempted to keep her distance.

“Don’t try to run from me. You don’t stand a chance!” he screamed and charged again.

If his nickname on the field wasn’t The Mountain, it should have been. Egoraven was thrown back by another blow, realizing there was something off with his fighting style. Not only was his approach frenzied and aggressive, but his weapon-wielding was unusual. She felt one of his blows ring against her armor, but the herald did not call a blow. It was then she realized why his technique was odd. And Egoraven was not the only one who noticed either.

Morgan jumped onto the fence, not believing what he was seeing, as Johar also figured out what was going on.

Egoraven jumped back, but not fast enough. Her hoof catching the ground, she fell back against the fence, twisting at the last second and just missing Galhad’s sword as it hacked deep into the railing just next to her. He roared with rage at not meeting his target.

Egoraven’s eyes widened. This was not a dulled tournament weapon. His blade was not only sharp, but he meant to use it exactly as intended.

“He’s not even trying to point! He’s really attacking her!” Morgan cried to the herald, who did not respond. Amadaeo stepped forward.

“Are you blind?” the unicorn yelled. “The blows are real! You must stop the match!”

The herald glanced back, then turned away, not yielding his position nor interfering with the fight.

Amadaeo’s ears pinned. “You’re not going to do anything, are you...”

Morgan stood on his toes. “Egoraven! Fight back! They’re letting Galhad attack you!”

The yell echoed in her helm, and she answered with a surge forward, putting all her weight into her defense, her strength throwing Galhad away from her. The split second allowed her to regroup and change tactics, but she wasn’t sure how much she could do if the officials weren’t stopping anything. How drastic would this have to get for them to end this?

The blur in black charged again, this time with Egoraven countering his strength with her own. For the first time, surprise showed in his movements. The audience popped to their feet, bloodlust running through their cheers. It was apparent everyone knew what was going on, but why wasn’t it stopping? They weren’t expecting someone actually to die, were they?

With a hard blow, their blades met, metal squealing into cross they both braced against.

 Just when it felt they were at an impasse, Egoraven felt him surge, followed by a blow to her midsection so violent that she was thrown back. The black bull had kicked her, and she hit the ground with a thud hard enough to throw her helmet off.  All she remembered was a shadow, the gleam of a blade, and the screaming of her name.

The world went silent. Stunned, Egoraven pulled her arm from her eyes. At first, she thought there was something wrong with her vision, as all she could see was a shimmering blue and violet haze. Blinking and shaking her head, she tried to remember what had happened. Tournament. The black bull. His sword was real, and he had kicked her to the ground. Slowly raising herself, she felt her horn sparkle and her magic reacting. Even the talisman felt heavy and vibrated as she reached towards the glow surrounding her.

“Vile cheat!” she heard muffled through the haze.  Sitting up, the sphere of light broke and vanished, bringing her back into the noise of the arena and an infuriated Sir Galhad holding a shattered sword in his hand.

“What—what is this?” Egoraven cried, watching the last of the shimmer vanishing. Her talisman stopped its pulling.

The herald in colorful robes ran forward towards her. “How dare you pretend this is not of your doing! Using magics to foul our tournament!”

It came together as Egoraven stood on still, wobbly legs. The blue haze was a magical shield—a shield she didn’t create but was now being accused of making. “What? But I didn’t do this!” she cried.

Everyone turned their attention to the center stands, where the royal box overlooked the grounds. King Jason stared, surrounded by his mage chancellors who spoke urgently between themselves over the incident they just witnessed. The head mage-judge raised himself from his seat.

“By the law of Ternam, under King Jason the second, may Helo bless his name; as penalty for deception by magic, I hereby call for your arrest!”

As guards entered the ring, Egoraven ran to the stands. “No! I didn’t do anything! Surely you would know! You must know! That magic did not come from me! You cannot disqualify me!”

“Seize her,” was the answer her pleading received.

Egoraven looked on at the dispassionate judge, stunned. Feeling the guards encircle her, King Jason watched the proceedings with no reaction. She began to tremble. This was it. This was where all her hard work was going to end—in the dungeon of a Varcyn prison.

No!

The glowing shield appeared again, separating her from the guards in a column of shimmering blue and violet light. All heads turned toward the voice and, ultimately, the person who had cast the spell. The brows of the mage-judge met as the man wearing the blue uniform and golden pendant of a teacher of the school of sorcery stepped out from the crowd and into the arena, his hands glowing with the same magic that surrounded Egoraven and protected her.

“Desmond Treemont! What is the meaning of this?” The judge cried with an air of harried frustration rather than anger.

“I must apologize, but I could no longer bear to allow this injustice to continue.” With a flick of his wrist, the light disappeared, releasing Egoraven, who stared in shock at him. “Galhad went against the very code of the tournament by trying to kill his opponent,” the sorcerer continued.  “If he had cause to duel, then he should have issued his challenge for a trial by battle. But instead, he attempted to hide his intent within a contest!”

The judge huffed. “It is not your call to determine what is appropriate for this tournament.”

“In that, I agree,” Desmond answered. “I believe it is the call of King Jason of Varcyn to determine that.” He raised his hand to his monarch.

King Jason sat silent, the pause creating an unnerving pall, with no one daring to speak before their ruler did. He leaned forward in his throne-like chair. “It is against our laws for magic to be used in tournament, which is why we have the mage-judges to ensure the field is level for all.”

Desmond nodded. “And being the very spirit of tournament is fair play, you must concede that Sir Galhad’s behavior was not conducive to that goal.” He then presented Egoraven. “She wears her draining stone just as all sorcerer lords do in contest. She followed the laws of the kingdom to the utmost letter while her opponent displayed less than chivalrous intent against the very laws meant to protect him just as well as her.”

“My lord, I cannot stand here and be insulted—” Sir Galhad spat.

The king slowly turned his head to the knight in black armor. “You were overly aggressive in your match, and you did not make any attempt to treat this contest as such. Desmond is right. This douban is a competitor as any one of the knights here. If she is meant to fail, she will fail fairly. If you meant to duel, then you should have followed the protocol laid out in the law.” He sat back with the same slow, deliberate movement, unnerving Sir Galahad. “I will not allow my tournament to descend into a front for assassination.”

“My lord is as just as he is wise.” Desmond gave a respectful bow, but his fate was not quite settled. It was now the head mage’s turn.

“Desmond Treemont, you are aware that interfering with the King’s Tournament demands consequences despite your well-meaning intentions.”

“I am willing to accept the decision of my peers,” he answered. “However, what of Egoraven?”

Although Egoraven was grateful for this human stranger's standing up for her, she couldn’t help but be distracted by a faint scent coming from him that she thought she was imagining or maybe was residue from the fading spell. Who are you that you carry my father’s scent?

The king and the mage chancellors spoke privately, then ended with King Jason standing from his seat. “Egoraven of Edinrahn, you are hereby suspended from tournament until sunrise.”

Egoraven felt her jaw drop. “Suspended?” she cried. “But he tried to kill me!”

Even from his position in the high stand, his glare bore through her, and the unicorn regretted her comment. “Thank you, your grace,” she meekly replied with a deep bow.

The king then turned to the sorcerer. “Desmond, you will meet with us back at the college after the tournament day is over.”

“As you command it, your majesty.” He bowed again, ready to accept whatever consequences his actions brought.

The sorcerer, the knight, and the unicorn left the arena. Egoraven returned to her corner, where Amadaeo, Morgan, and Johar waited, still dismayed by what had happened. The guards holding them back stood down, returning to their posts.

“Let’s head back to the castle,” Johar sighed. “I think we’ve had too much excitement for one day.”

“Now that’s an understatement,” Morgan grumbled.

In the stands, Lady Alexandria held shaking hands to her mouth as Cerrik stood aside, fuming at what this would mean in the grander scheme of his things.

“A shame about your champion, Master Knight.”

Cerrik turned to face an unknown lord beside him, dressed in a dark red jerkin that made his ginger hair look brighter, completely accenting an absurdly thick mustache that almost made the knight chuckle. “However, it’s such a good thing your lady is completely enamored to not let such a throwback be a concern. Most nobles would disown a knight for embarrassing them like this.” Speaking his peace with a pat on Cerrik’s shoulder, the noble walked away just as anonymously as he appeared, with no one noticing the shimmer that slightly distorted the air around his head.

“Who was that?” Alexandria asked. They both looked at each other, hoping the other would know.

“Nobody,” Cerrik answered, the only answer he could give.

* * *

The Varcyn School of Sorcery was a prestigious college that took in and trained those of enchanted aptitude in exchange for their service to the court and, ultimately, the kingdom. Although there were smaller schools and apprenticeships that served the same function across the realm, many still preferred to make the journey to Varcyn in the hopes of being accepted. The clout of graduating from the Varcyn School sometimes carried more weight than the actual skills attained.

Lanterns along the cobblestone paths of the school flickered in the waning light, casting their gentle glow on the stone. The courtyards echoed with the voices of the remaining teachers as they made their way to their dorms or elsewhere after the long day of class and study.

“I heard about what happened.” Stephan fussed with his satchel, putting away a small notebook. “Count on you to stick your neck out like that, and in front of King Jason too. Although I’m just as surprised you were at tournament, to begin with. Since when do you go outside?” he joked.

“Actually, I’m surprised there weren’t more teachers there,” Desmond chuckled. “Not every day you get the opportunity to see unicorns.”

Stephan grimaced. “This may be a magical school, but that doesn’t mean we’re willing to go out of our way to encounter magical creatures. That’s more playing with fire than magic.”

Desmond shook his head. “They weren’t doing anything except competing. At least the girl was. Not her fault that someone was trying to kill her. So, I intervened. It was the right thing to do.”

“She was cute, wasn’t she?”

“Jackass,” Desmond blushed as he elbowed his friend.

“So, what did old Leonus do to you?”

“I get the lovely task of cleaning the grand dining hall for a month after every dinner.” Desmond ran his fingers through his brown hair.

“Cleaning? That’s it?” Stephan cocked his head. “You mess up a royal contest, and all you get is cleaning?”

Desmond raised a finger. “No spells, though. Scrubbing everything shiny with my own bare hands.”

His companion waved a dismissive hand. “Aw—it’s not like you’re doing that alone. You’ll still have the servants helping.” He paused and thought about the seemingly innocuous punishment, thinking of how immense the dining hall was and how many just plates and glasses the average meal for the hundreds of students and faculty there created. He gave a shudder. “Okay—Maybe I’d learn my lesson from just that.”

Desmond grinned. “The way I’ve seen you keep your dorm? I would believe it.”

They both laughed as they reached the sigil-covered gates marking the perimeter of the college. Sensing their proximity, the iron gates opened without them touching anything.

Stephan began walking in the opposite direction. “Well, I hope she was worth the trouble,” he said with a wink and a click of his tongue. “It would take a unicorn girl to get you to go out more often. See you tomorrow.”

Desmond smirked. “See you tomorrow,” he answered, ignoring the rest of the comment. He continued on his way, looking forward to a pub meal that was a nice change of pace from the more formal dinners at the school. Best of all, he would be able to get his fill of his favorite ale, which was never served anywhere on campus. Turning into a particularly dark corner, he passed an even darker alleyway, unconcerned as this quarter of the city wasn’t really known for being unsafe.

A pair of eyes watched him from the shadows.

As he turned the corner and returned to the street, Desmond heard a soft tapping and felt someone following close behind. He stopped, suddenly feeling the need to check his surroundings.

He startled himself as he immediately came eye-to-eye with the unicorn girl from that morning. Now able to get a better look, she stood just a bit shorter than him, dressed in a simple ensemble of a linen shirt over trousers. Her tail swished as she glared, for some reason, seemingly not happy to be there. Even with her hooves, odd hands, and a golden horn sticking out above her porcelain brow, Desmond realized that despite Stephan’s ribbing, she was, in fact, cute.

“Well, what are you doing here—?”

The words barely came out when he felt a pain shoot through his face, knocking him back. He felt his tunic being grabbed roughly, and he was dragged back into the darkened corner of the alleyway.

Egoraven wasted no time pummeling the man. “How DARE you threaten all that I have worked so hard for! I didn’t ask you to interfere!” She punched him again.

“They were about to arrest you—” Desmond coughed, raising his arms to protect his face from further assault.

“BECAUSE OF YOU!” she screamed, sending a hoof into his stomach.

The man scrambled, trying to get to his feet. “Would you have preferred Sir Galhad killed you?”

She grabbed him again, throwing him back down. Straddling him, she clutched his collar. “Better to die in the ring than be shamed by disqualification! They even called me a cheat!” Desmond clawed at her furred hands as the tightness of his collar choked him. Egoraven leaned forward, their eyes meeting. “What is he to you?” she screamed at him. Desmond looked up in more confusion than he was already.

She pulled his face closer, her breath on his skin. “What is my father to you?” Her voice cracked.

“Who?” Desmond stuttered, tasting blood in his mouth.

Egoraven raised herself, sitting on his stomach and looking him over. “His scent! It is as clear as day on you!” She started pawing at his clothing, rifling through his tunic and its hidden pockets.

“What are you doing—!” He tried to get up, only to have an unusually heavy hand grasp his face and force him back down. With her other hand, she pulled on the strap of his satchel, yanking it off him. “You’re offended at cheat but not thief?” he cried.

Continuing to sit on him, she studied the bag, shaking it first to get a sense of its contents. The scent wafted from inside. Whatever she was looking for was in here. With a quick flip, she dumped the contents onto the ground.

The alley rang with the sound of loose coins followed by books, sheets of paper, and the clacking of writing utensils. A small bottle of ink splashed, splattering on everything. Then, a last item fell out so silently that if she hadn’t been paying attention, Egoraven would have missed it. The scent filled her nostrils. They both stared.

It was a lock of black hair done in a braid and tied with the remnants of a ribbon so tattered and faded it was hard to imagine what color it could have originally been. Egoraven cautiously crawled to it, completely ignoring the man struggling to regain himself.

“No… no… no…” she heard from him.

Egoraven reached out, dumbstruck, at the braid. Gently, almost reverently, picking it up, she brought it to her nose with trembling hands. Breathing in deeply, her eyes filled with tears, and she choked back a sob. Desmond watched quietly at her reaction as she closed her fingers on it.

“No, give that back...” he whispered, his face pained but not by the battering Egoraven gave him.

“How did you get this?” Egoraven kept her eyes down.

“It is nothing,” Desmond stuttered. “Just some horse hair.”

The rage flaring up was unmistakable. “This hair belongs to Alaric, the unicorn king of Edinrahn. How dare you call it nothing!” Her pupils turned to pinpoints at him.

He gulped. “How do you know?”

The unicorn rushed him, and before he could blink, Desmond was slammed against the wall, his feet kicking, and three golden fingers tightening around his neck.

“I should certainly know the scent of my own father!” Egoraven roared.

“Your father?”

 She slammed his head. “Where did you get this? Tell me! Or the fingers around your throat will meet!” She tightened her grip.

Struggling against fingers that would not loosen and a consciousness that was, Desmond spoke through clenched teeth. “She gave it to me—I got it—from your mother—”

Egoraven eyes widened. “What?”

Before she could take out any more of her anger on him, Desmond held his breath and reached out, grasping her face. Egoraven gasped as the spell took hold, the haze of violet and blue engulfing her vision as her horn sparkled and tears streamed down her cheeks.

Her name was Hannah, the midwife’s daughter.

She was the love of my life, but I was too afraid to tell her.

And because of that fear, another was able to come in.

A black unicorn from a faraway enchanted valley.

Looking for an offering to the elves and finding her.

Taking the place where I would have been had I chosen not to be afraid.

How I tried to win her back.

How I hoped.

But a unicorn’s magic proved stronger.

Stronger than hope.

Stronger than my love for her.

I hated the black unicorn for it.

But I hated myself more for allowing it to happen.

He was going to take her away, so I took one more chance.

I was supposed to die that night.

The black unicorn aimed his horn.

The spell broke for just a moment, allowing her to protect me.

How I was supposed to protect her…

And failed.

But love won.

Just not the way it was supposed to.

The horn found its mark, but not where it meant.

I proved myself a sorcerer to save her.

To give her what she wanted.

To be with her unicorn king.

To watch her build the life she should have built with me.

To see her heavy with a child that should have been ours.

I had turned my one true love into a unicorn to see her live again.

It only required me to sacrifice my heart.

They both collapsed to the ground. Desmond choked and gasped, trying to catch his breath. Egoraven sat motionless, staring ahead yet not looking at anything as the remnants of the spell dissolved, the sparkling in her horn fading.

The sorcerer carefully touched his face, feeling the stinging welts and, most likely, a broken nose. “I don’t have a mirror, but I think I’m better off for it,” he grumbled.

The unicorn girl sheepishly looked at him, tear-streaked and red in embarrassment. “I—I can heal you…” she squeaked between sniffles.

He grunted at the pain as his magic began to repair the damage. “No, that’s quite all right. I’ve had enough of your hands on me. Best you stay where you are right now.”

Her ears drooped at his stern tone as he grabbed his bag and began repacking it, unapologetically snatching up the braid that had fallen from her hands. Egoraven felt her chest tighten at the humiliation of it all.

“I’m—I’m sorry—”

He did not answer right away, continuing to adjust his bag and cursing the broken bottle of ink staining his books. He stood, kicking the glass to the side, cleaning up as best as he could. Egoraven had gotten to her hooves, meekly standing aside, unsure what to do. She wrung her hands and swished her tail, suddenly desperate for this stranger to speak to her. But also remembering he wasn’t actually a stranger, either.

Giving his tunic a final brush-off, Desmond turned to the unicorn girl and sighed. “Next time, you can just thank me for saving your life. It would have been easier for both of us.”

Egoraven nodded and wiped her eyes. A look of panic crossed her face as the situation dawned on her. “You’re not going to report this, are you?” Attacking a citizen was most certainly going to get her booted from tournament, if not definitely thrown into a dungeon. She began to feel tears sting her eyes again.

He answered with a kind chuckle, which still made the unicorn uneasy. “And keep me from seeing Hannah’s daughter win the tournament champion?” Desmond gave her a broad smile, running his fingers through his disheveled hair—hair that was the exact same color as hers.  

Egoraven blushed at his response. “I guess this is the part where I offer to buy you a drink, eh?” she replied with a self-conscious laugh.

Desmond looked around, then back at her, placing his hands on his hips as a crooked grin crossed his face. “Yes. I think it is.”