Chapter 8: A Princely Revenge

EGORAVEN: HEIR OF THE FIRST UNICORN - The Novelization adaptation of the comic series - Content warning: Adult situations and Fantasy violence. Reader Discretion is advised

The door slamming behind her repeated in Egoraven’s ears long after she had left the guest apartment wing. Her mind was blank, and her vision was a narrow tunnel of light. The unicorn crossed the courtyard towards the stables. She felt hollow and devastated as everything she thought she knew crumbled around her.

Touching her face, Egoraven could tell that the bruises from Cerrik’s attack had healed, but the headache that followed them continued to throb with no relief. A sharp wave shot through, seeming to start from the base of her horn. Egoraven stopped suddenly, clutching her head. Gnashing her teeth, the pain made her suck in her breath and thrash her tail. The servants crisscrossing their way through the courtyard ignored her.

Just as quickly as it happened, the pain dissipated, but the migraine continued with a constant intense pulsing. Too much was happening for her to narrow down what could be causing it and why her magic seemed incredibly sluggish at that moment. All she knew was that she had to get to the stables.

The royal stable was an immense building as large as the guest wing, if not larger. The main carriage door was made of ornately carved heavy wood and usually needed two guards to open. But Egoraven, even in her state, was able to push them easily. She was barely through the threshold when Desmond, Johar, and Morgan ambushed her, the three men frantic with worry.

“Egoraven! What happened? Why did they disqualify you?” cried the fox as he jumped up to her.

“They didn’t just disqualify you—they’re removing your name completely from the record,” Johar added with urgency.

The sorcerer was the last to run up, looking especially frazzled. “I just spent Helo knows how much time with the auditors, and I had to keep them from claiming even the very clothes we’re wearing! What happened with the king?”

Trying to push aside the pain, Egoraven looked at the three of them, completely confused, until she realized Amadaeo was not with them. “What do you mean? Didn’t Amadaeo tell you?”

Desmond shook his head. “We just found out. It’s all everyone’s talking about.”

Egoraven looked around, hoping to see her uncle anywhere in the stable. “But what about Amadaeo? Where is he?”

Morgan shuffled. “Actually, we thought he was with you. We haven’t seen Amadaeo since you left with him with the guards this morning.”

At his words, Egoraven’s vision narrowed even further, the rushing of blood roaring in her ears as the pain shot through her again.

“Are you all right?” Desmond reached out to her as she clutched her head, almost losing her balance.

“It’s just a headache that won’t go away,” she snarled through clenched teeth.

“Can’t you heal yourself?” she heard Morgan ask.

“I’m trying—it won’t stop,” Egoraven answered, her eyes shut tight as her magic did nothing. Regaining some of her senses, she looked up to see them staring back at her, none of them knowing what to do.

Johar let out a breath and raised his hands just as much to calm himself as everyone else. “Just tell us what Amadaeo was supposed to tell us.”

Egoraven remained distracted by her uncle’s absence. “King Jason decreed that my rank at the tournament is void because the Dragon Lords rule Edinrahn, not me, so according to him, I am not a noble. The only reason they even ruled that is because someone supplied them with signed documents from Edinrahn proving it. Only nobles can compete, so no more tournaments.” The answer came out fast and furious as it tumbled out of her mouth. “But forget all that!” she cried. “So, you didn’t see Amadaeo at all?”

Desmond, Johar, and Morgan turned to each other and then back at her with a collective shake of their heads.

“Maybe he’s wandering around somewhere,” Morgan replied.

“Amadaeo doesn’t just wander around!” she snapped as a wave of panic rose in her chest. “We have to find him!” She grabbed her head again. “And DAMN THIS HEADACHE!”

A sharp gasp escaped as the wind was knocked out of her by an unseen force. Collapsing on the floor of the stable, Egoraven curled up, her body trembling from the agony wracking through her. She felt herself straighten as if her movements were not her own. In the distance, she heard the muffled cries of her name as everything went black.

Visions floated around her, or was she the one floating? Nothing seemed solid, just darkness and ghosts of light. A sparkling object ahead caught her attention, and Egoraven shook her head, trying to focus on what it was. She opened her mouth in horror, but no sound came out. Ahead of her lay a severed unicorn horn, fresh blood oozing from the base onto the black landscape. Reaching out, the horn distorted and waved, the hallucination morphing until Egoraven found herself before a woman sprawled out in the same darkness as she was.

The woman was draped in a flowing gown shimmering with stars, her armor glowing with the lights of constellations and silver moons. Her flowing dark hair almost matched the black surrounding them, hiding her face save for a silver crown on her brow. The woman reached out, and the unicorn couldn’t help but reach out in return. “Egoraven…” the woman called in a voice that came from everywhere. “You must come… I am in great danger…” As her words trailed, Egoraven noticed the woman’s belly swollen with child, but something was wrong. As dim light shone beneath her, a thin trickle snaked towards Egoraven. Looking down, she realized it was more blood. Raising her gaze, everything went white.

In her blindness, Egoraven caught a glimpse of the white unicorn that had been haunting her. “The tower…” she heard in that ethereal voice, unsure whether it came from the woman or the unicorn. Egoraven remained paralyzed, watching the light and the darkness swirl and dance before her. She began hearing her name again.

Fingers dug into her shoulder, pulling her out of this dream space that did not want to let her go. The brightness faded as her vision cleared, but terror now washed through her. She heard herself screaming.

“Egoraven!” Desmond cried as he cradled her in his arms, trying to shake her out of her trance. “Her talisman, it’s gone—and her magic—she’s heating up!” Desmond shook her again. Johar and Morgan kept their distance, having seen her go through this once before.

With heavy panting, Egoraven slumped into the sorcerer. The vision disappeared, but the feeling of dread it left behind was as unbearable as the pain that still surged. Wiping her face, she felt a smear that didn’t feel like the sweat that beaded her brow.

“Egoraven—you’re bleeding,” Desmond replied, following the trail to the base of her horn.

Pulling her hand away, red soiled her gold fingers and the white fur of her palm. “What’s going on?” Her breathing became shallower.

“Your talisman—where is it?” Desmond flipped her collar, looking for it. He could feel her magic swirling uncontrollably, and his hands tingled as he touched her.

With wild eyes, Egoraven turned to him. “Amadaeo—!” she cried as she jumped up and bolted out of the stable. The human and the fox looked on in shock.

“Come on!” Johar shouted to snap them out of it. At his command, they ran after her.

It was easy to tell in what direction Egoraven had gone. As the odd trio made their way through the crowds, they only had to follow the direction people were staring and pointing in. A unicorn girl scrambling through the streets was certainly a sight for many to stop for, but as the sorcerer, horse man, and fox chased behind, it was also not something for anyone to interfere with.

As they approached the slum quarter, a large murmuring crowd gathered at a river overpass, mobbing one of the grassy medians. Desmond pushed his way through until he saw Egoraven by the river's edge. “Look! There!” he called to Johar and Morgan behind him.

Impatiently shoving gawkers aside, Desmond reached the front with a relieved gasp. Egoraven was kneeling ahead with her back facing him. He strode completely focused on her, his magic buzzing uncomfortably the closer he got. He did not notice Johar stopping dead in his tracks, staring beyond them, his mouth agape.

“…no…”

“Egoraven!” Desmond reached out to her, but she did not answer him. “Egoraven, did you find—” Finally looking up, his face went pale.

Blood splattered the stone of the overpass as a tangle of ropes pulled taut against a large carcass dangling halfway in the water. Its dappled belly was split from groin to neck, with the last remnants of entrails cascading from the wound. Stray dogs whined and paced nearby, confused at having such a bounty before them, but none dared to come close. A pair of humans gossiping to one another pointed to the overpass. “Someone hung a gutted horse there off the bridge. A bad omen, that is.” One of the men took his thumb and traced a protective sigil on his forehead—the sign against evil. His companion did the same.

Johar stepped up behind them, his gaze locked. “That’s not a horse,” he muttered, not actually answering the comment.

Desmond lightly placed his hands on Egoraven’s shoulders, wincing at the sparks of magic that bit at him but kept his touch. Without moving, Egoraven finally spoke in a hushed tone only he could hear.

“They took his horn… they took… I didn’t see…”

The sorcerer’s gaze followed her arms down to her lap. She looked as if she were holding one of the scraggly mutts that kept their distance, but as he leaned closer, he felt his chest tighten. She was cradling Amadaeo’s head in her lap. It had been severed near the jaw, and a crusted circle of blood marked where his horn had been. Desmond embraced Egoraven from behind as she began to tremble.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his throat tightening. “I’m so sorry.” He had only known her uncle for a little while, but his heart broke just the same. He felt her tears splash onto his cheek as he tightened his grasp further. Feeling her heave, he knew he could not let go. Egoraven let out a primal scream that rang loud and long until she choked on uncontrolled sobs. As Desmond cradled her, she collapsed into her lap, burying her head in a black mane smelling of the last remnants of fading lavender.

The people crowding the median continued to ogle dispassionately until a change of lighting and a distant scream distracted them. In almost perfect synchronization, the crowd looked up at the darkening sky.

“By the Creator—” Johar muttered as he watched the daylight moon glow bright and then fade into a crimson shade. Morgan joined his side.

“What the—” the fox sputtered.

The crowd began to shuffle with apprehension and fear. “A bad omen—a bad omen indeed—!” repeated through the humans along with more signs against evil, with some of them turning suspicious glares at the unicorn girl weeping in the grass.

“Did the unicorn curse us?” someone commented from the crowd.

Desmond tried to avoid reacting. He had seen eclipses before, but nothing that looked like this. The sun shone as normally as it did, but the moon's actions were completely unnatural. He didn’t want to give any sign that would set off the mob that surrounded them. He may be a servant of the royal court, but that would not save him if he accidentally triggered a riot. He felt a firm hand on him that made him jump.

“Morgan and I will take care of this,” Johar said sternly but calmly, “but you and Egoraven need to leave now.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more,” Desmond answered.

Taking off his robe, Johar kneeled before Egoraven. “Let me care for him,” Johar replied in a soothing voice, breaking through her resistance. As he gently maneuvered around her, he covered and wrapped Amadaeo’s head in the robe and reverently took it into his arms. Free from her burden, Desmond helped her to her hooves, but Egoraven continued her weeping as she was escorted through the glaring crowd. Desmond continued to comfort her as they passed, ignoring the scornful glares and their accompanying whispers.

Johar felt Morgan tug his shirt. “What do we do now?” the fox asked, still concerned about the humans that lingered. Taking a deep breath, Johar walked to a corner of the overpass. Gently laying the wrapped head down on the grass, he offered a prayer under the watchfulness of the nearby stray dogs. They would have been starving and still would have refused to take one bite of such flesh. With one final word of grace, Johar reached for his sword.

The horse man towered over the people who still stared at the spectacle. He pointed his weapon at them. “By the will of the Creator, I stand before you asking for help, but if you will not step forward, I suggest you be on your way.” His voice boomed with authority. There was a tense silence; then, reluctantly, the crowd began to break.

Johar and Morgan waited until they were finally alone on the median. Johar crouched to be at eye level with the fox. “Unicorn or not, he is too large for us to take away whole.” Johar hated even the thought of it as they both eyed his blade. It was sacrilege what they were being forced to do.

Morgan mournfully nodded. “I’ll do it,” he said softly. “I don’t care about how the gods think about me as much as you do. And I practically lived in a slaughterhouse for a good chunk of years anyway. I can do it fast. Give me your sword, and then you can cut the ropes.” He wiped the tears matting the fur of his cheeks. Johar gave Morgan a somber pat on his shoulder.

“Aye, there.”

The two of them looked up, greeted by the sight of three animal-men—a donkey, a dog, and a cat. The trio looked worn and unkept, peasants who lived in the nearby tenements.

The gruff-looking dog spoke. “We be workin’ down yonder fixin’ a wall, ya see, when we saw the commotion.” He pointed to the now red day-moon and to the body hanging on the wall. “We ain’t see who done this, but we thought mayhap we could be of service.”

Johar stood as Morgan looked them over. “I cannot thank you enough for your kindness,” he spoke, walking up to them. “But I can only offer you some meager coin for your help.”

The dog waved a dismissive hand. “The ‘umans rather watch us die in the gutter than lift a finger. We are cousins, you and us. We help our own. I be Hugo. Who you be?”

Johar bowed. “I am Johar. This is my friend Morgan. We are from Doornham.”

Morgan raised his fingers in acknowledgment.

Hugo scrunched his nose, looking over to the bridge, and wiped his hand on his dirty tunic. “That your horse? A waste of a good animal, that is.”

“He was a friend,” Johar answered, unoffended at their simple observation.

“Aye.” Hugo scratched his scraggly beard as he contemplated the scene. “Takes an evil enemy to be done up like that.” He turned his head and spat. “Yer business is yer own, but that was meant to send a message.”

Johar’s ears pinned. “He did not deserve this.”

“Aye,” he huffed, noticing Johar’s blade. “I ken see what yer and the tod about to be up to. Put yer knife away. Yer friend been through enough. We’ll help ya.” The dog turned to the donkey. “Cole, take Austin and get the cart.”

“Aye, Hugo,” Cole nodded and shuffled off.

Hugo turned back to Johar, looking him over. “Doornham, aye? But you be desert folk, right?”

“Johar nodded. “I am originally from Kadaran.”

“You don’t bury your dead, do you? So, you need a pyre, then.”

Johar gave a weak smile. “That is our tradition, yes.”

Hugo tapped his temple in jest. “Aye. I know a thing or two, yanno. We have a place to build one—to honor yer friend.”

Johar grew concerned over wherever this place may be. “We need to bring his niece. It will be very difficult for her.”

Hugo raised a reassuring hand. “It’s near the quarry. No ‘umans will bother with us there. It’s just us doubans.” His ears flattened a bit. “And condolences to yer friend’s niece, then. Ugly thing for a bairn to witness.”

Johar nodded. “Thank you,” he answered softly. Bringing his hands together, he bowed to the dog. “May the Creator bless you, my friend.”

The dog nodded in return. “May your blade find the villain who did this unawares,” he answered. “Give yer friend’s niece vengeance or peace. Whichever she prefers.”

Johar tightened his lips as the donkey and the cat returned with a skinny pony trailing a squeaking cart. Whoever did this to Amadaeo would pay. By blade or bare hands, they would pay.

* * *

Orchid ran through the halls of the massive castle, her heart beating in her ears and the sound of her dress rustling behind her. Tears stung her eyes, blurring her vision as her heels tapped loudly with each step. Turning a corner, she made her way down the corridor to where a horse man and a fox stood a somber vigil beside a closed door.

“What are you doing here?” Morgan snarled, not attempting to hide his hostility toward the courtesan.

“I heard what happened,” Orchid said breathlessly. I came as soon as I could.”

Pinning his ears, Morgan crossed his arms defensively. “Well, I hope this didn’t inconvenience you enough that you still got paid.”

Johar turned an apologetic eye to Orchid. “Morgan, show respect,” he replied without his usual disciplinary tone.

With a loud, grotesque snort and an equally wet and disgusting cough, Morgan let loose a shiny, green glob that splattered on the carpet, barely missing a silk slipper. “There’s your respect,” he sneered. “Now go away.”

Snapping open her fan, Orchid hid her flushed face, keeping her gaze on the horse man as the door opened slowly behind them.

“How is she?” Johar immediately asked as the frazzled sorcerer slowly peeked out.

Desmond faced the group with traumatized eyes ringed dark with exhaustion. “I put a sleep spell on her to help her rest, and she almost drained me for the effort.” He let out loud breaths as if he had been exerting himself and was having trouble recovering. “Her entire magical center is in as much chaos as her physical body, but she’s at least safe to be around now.” He ushered them into the room. “Well, safe for me,” he muttered. He ran his hands through his hair out of frustration.

The room smelled thick of ozone, resulting from the magic battle of wills between the sorcerer and the unicorn. They gathered by the wardrobe, as far from the bed as possible. Egoraven lay on her side, not facing them, unmoving save for her breathing. Morgan made his way towards her.

“The king has assured a full investigation into the matter,” Desmond started in a hushed voice. “Not like that will get anywhere. People aren’t exactly rushing forward with information on what they may have seen.” He sighed and folded his arms. “It also doesn’t help that the people think this and the eclipse are connected. The mage priests are trying to convince King Jason that this is a sign from the sun god Helo, but luckily, he’s still on our side for now.”

“The King or Helo?” Morgan asked as he leaned on the edge of the mattress and gently caressed Egoraven’s long hair.

“I will settle for either one right now.” Desmond squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. Things were getting complicated quickly, and his mind raced with everything he would have to deal with. He thought of the flaming pyre. At first, the doubans of the quarry didn’t want to let him, a human, into their space, but Egoraven’s magic had been flaring to the point they all were beginning to feel it, and the sorcerer was the only one able to temper it enough. It was almost by some miracle they were able to get her back to the room afterward without the entirety of the mage council descending on them. That much magic being released at once was not something taken lightly in this city of wizards.

Orchid fluttered her fan. “Amadaeo never hurt anyone. Who would do such a thing?”

Johar gave a soft huff. “No matter how hard we try, there will always be people who will never feel safe within their own skin until everything different from them is destroyed.”

She turned to the bed. “How much hate did they harbor to do that to him?”

“I do not think it was a hatred of Amadaeo that triggered this,” Johar answered. Hugo was right. What was done to Amadaeo was a message specifically for Egoraven. It didn’t matter what it was supposed to say. They just had to find out who had sent it.

Morgan gingerly snuggled next to Egoraven who still did not move. He buried his muzzle in her hair, the scent of roses surrounding him. Curling up, the fox began to let out soft sobs.

Desmond groaned and leaned his forehead on the wardrobe as dread overwhelmed him. This was going to get worse. He could feel it in his bones. He didn’t know how, but this was going to get much worse.

Feeling there was nothing she could do here, Orchid bid her regards. There was still much to be done in preparation for her trip, but before returning to her room, she decided a detour was in order. It had been a while since she last saw Alexandria, and she needed to be informed directly of what had happened instead of relying on rumors. Disgraced or not, Amadaeo had been nothing but kind to them, and the least Egoraven deserved was the lady’s condolence.

As Orchid entered the bed-chamber, her sorrow quickly turned to shock and surprise. The room looked as if a storm had charged through—tables were overturned, broken glass glimmered on the floor, and even the mirror was shattered thanks to the impact of a well-thrown vase that lay cracked on the mantle, its flowers strewn haphazardly. Papers lay scattered about, forming a trail to the distracted man fuming in a corner next to the violently disheveled bed.

“Orchid! Thank the sun god you’re finally here,” Cerrik roared, crushing more paper in his fists. “Where is Alexandria?”

Pulling her hands away from her mouth, Orchid shook her head, trying to straighten her thoughts. “Why, I’m sure she must be at banquet—” she managed to get out before the knight stomped over to her, his face red with rage.

“You know better than that after the king’s decree!” he shouted at her. “Alexandria would be a fool to show her face, although it would be like her to rub salt into that wound! But I haven’t seen her anywhere else either! She isn’t with that horse-faced shame on our name, is she?”

Orchid shook her head. “No, I just came back from seeing Egoraven. She has had a horrible misfortune fall on her.”

Her answer infuriated Cerrik even more. “WHAT DO I CARE OF HER MISFORTUNES?” he screamed. “Alexandria’s infatuation has embarrassed me and all but ruined the Dallyn name! And to add even insult to injury—THIS!” He shoved the parchments into Orchid’s face with a hard push, almost throwing her off balance. Cerrik paced the room as she sorted through them.

“What are these?” Orchid asked.

“Look for yourself!” he continued raging as the unicorn in scarlet skimmed the writing. “They’re letters and poems—about elves and Edinrahn!

Orchid squinted at the floral script she recognized as Alexandria’s handwriting, but the words were nothing but juvenile pining that was nothing like the lady’s usual style. They would almost be laughable if it weren’t for the seriousness of the situation.

“I should have never trusted those unicorns,” Cerrik went on. “Here we were thinking they were harmless outcasts when they were doing what those dammed creatures did all along! What did the elves figure, that if the bait were half-human, they would get sweeter prizes?”

She snapped up from the papers. “No! Egoraven is not like that! She and her uncle never were! They did everything for the good of Dallyn. Not only that, you never had to worry about Egoraven taking Alexandria’s affection away. Alexandria’s feelings were ill-targeted, and Egoraven never meant to embarrass you as a suitor.” Orchid reread the bewildering treacle on the page. “And even if Egoraven was to blame, how come her name shows up nowhere in the letters?” Everything was so strange and completely out of character for the lady she served for so long. “All it talks about are elves. Since when did Alexandria care about elves?” Orchid pursed her lips, asking herself the question more than she was asking him.

“If the unicorns have nothing to do with this, then where did all this talk about elves come from?” Cerrik took a deep breath, his mood not as heated.

“No matter. You are right—we must find Alexandria.” Gathering up the hem of her dress, the courtesan rushed out of the room with the knight close behind. “I have an idea where she might be. She’s always been enamored with hedge mazes. Maybe we will be able to find her there.”

The man grunted. “Anywhere that can make her difficult to find, of course.” He glanced over to Orchid, noting that she wore a more modest outfit in the scarlet shade of her profession rather than the usual court attire he preferred her in. Or out of. Yet, no matter the dress, he couldn’t help but ogle. “Are you sure I cannot convince you to stay once all this nonsense is settled?” he asked.

Orchid slowed her pace. “If by nonsense, you mean wedding…” her voice trailed as she settled back into her role as a courtesan, not a concerned handmaiden. Even in the situation they were in, Orchid knew better than to forget her true place.

Cerrik snorted. “You know how it goes. Marrying Alexandria amounts to nothing but nonsense. But her father’s lands still hold value, even if her reputation doesn’t. However, such an arrangement can still be made more accommodating with the right company.”

Orchid did not look at him but held a small smile that revealed in her voice. “And even how I am, you consider me accommodating?” Brushing her ebony hair aside, she gave her horn a light tap.

“No need to be coy.” The usually stoic Cerrik allowed himself a wry grin. “You’ve already proven to me on enough occasions that horn and tail of yours doesn’t stop you from fucking me as a lord deserves.” He snorted again. “With Alexandria, I just get fucked.”

The courtesan gave a laugh, hiding her discomfort. Alexandria was still a friend despite what she had to tolerate. “Unfortunately, my duties to the guild have me finally heading elsewhere. My lord should understand that a contract is a contract. And my contract with the Barony of Dallyn ended with Alexandria’s betrothal. I have already well overstayed my welcome.”

Cerrik answered with a grunt and puckered lips as he thought. “Well, maybe we can reconsider your contract, then. It shouldn’t take long to put a baby in her belly to fulfill both our responsibilities. Then Alexandria can go do whatever she wants, and then you and I can do whatever we want.” His voice started to turn sultry. Orchid suppressed the overwhelming need to cringe. Was he actually soliciting her here right now?

“We still have to find Alexandria for any of that to happen,” she replied, hoping to change the subject. A frown dragged his mouth, his mood turning sour as if she had ruined the moment by reminding him. He pulled his focus away from her, returning to the task at hand.

“The final letter I found mentions Alexandria leaving for Edinrahn. This better not be one of her more elaborate schemes to run away.” His voice echoed as they crossed the courtyard. “I am going to return that girl to her father even if I have to kill her to do it.” He almost looked forward to the thought.

Orchid wrung her hands, beginning to fret. “This must be some kind of desperate hoax. I know that Alexandria hasn’t been happy and I’m sure the news from King Jason didn’t help any.”

The man stopped dead in his tracks, turning to face the startled courtesan. His neck pulsed with growing indignation, and his jaw clenched. “Hasn’t been happy?” he almost screeched. “That girl has been spoiled beyond recognition! What does she not have that she is this unhappy?” His stare bore into Orchid, waiting for an answer from her that she refused to give. “You are incredibly fortunate you have my favor,” Cerrik growled as he turned back on his heels, stomping towards the gardens. The courtesan gulped as she continued following him.

The garden glowed eerie under the light of the red moon, its angular, sculptural trees, and equally manicured bushes creating an ominous path to the matching hedge maze. A sparkling beneath her feet caught Orchid’s attention. “I don’t remember these being here before…” She pondered the odd scrawls that glittered in the moonlight, not recognizing any of them. It was apparent Cerrik was oblivious to them as they sparked under his boots.

“Alexandria!”

Before she could think further, Orchid’s head popped up at his voice up ahead, relief waving through her at knowing the lady had been found. Weaving through the path of low walls and high brush, she came across the alcove opening, with Alexandria seated on a stone bench, not reacting to the man shouting at her.

“How dare you run off like this!” Cerrik yelled, still not getting any acknowledgment.

Orchid felt hesitant, finding Alexandria’s behavior completely unusual. As she approached, the lady slowly turned her head as if unaware that anyone was around her. Her eyes were dark and vacant. Orchid flinched at her gaze. “Don’t you understand there are ill omens about?” she asked, even wondering if Alexandria understood her. Confused at her sitting in the middle of the garden in her bedclothes, she suddenly noticed something in her lap. Orchid froze, a breathless gasp escaping. Alexandria casually held a severed unicorn horn in her hands.

“Where did you get that?” Orchid shivered in revulsion at the sight. Without thinking, she reached out to snatch it.

The lady popped up from her seat, clutching the spiral horn to her chest, her eyes wide yet unseeing. “No! It’s mine! It’s a gift, and it's mine!” she screamed, backing away.

“Foul murder!” Orchid cried back. “Who dares give you such a gift?”

Cerrik was less concerned with the horn than her behavior. “I’ve had enough. Come! We are leaving this god-forsaken city!” Rushing forward, he tightly grabbed Alexandria’s arm. The high-pitched scream it triggered made him let go as he winced at the noise. There was no way that sound would not attract the guards. As he expected soldiers to appear at any moment, the garden remained quiet. Alexandria sprinted deeper into the alcove and into the arms of a figure hiding in the shadows.

Dumbstruck, the knight and the unicorn watched as the lady cooed at the stranger, clinging intensely as he slowly escorted her out of the shadow, revealing himself. Rillian stood before them, a smug smile crossing his lips. They were not who he had wanted to attract with his pretty bait, but they would do just fine.

“An elf! In the city! The omens are indeed worse than we thought—!” Cerrik couldn’t help but stare in astonishment, never having seen an elf in the flesh before. He stood confused, trying to make sense of it all. At first glance, the elf didn’t seem all that threatening, being of a smaller build than the robust and taller human knight. Cerrik had no doubt it would not be a challenge to take him on. But watching Rillian move with an almost feral and predatory grace belied something he couldn’t figure out—something that reminded him that elves were feared for a reason. He felt an uncomfortable tingling at the back of his neck.

“Bad omens?” Rillian laughed, opening his arms and presenting himself to the knight. “You give me way too much credit. Though, I must say, the blood moon is an interesting touch, but none of my doing.”

Completely brazen, the elf prince stepped towards the courtesan, grabbing her hand and feeling the fear rushing through her. His smile widened. “My dear Orchid! How lovely to see you again this fine night.” Leaning over, he planted a kiss on her knuckles. She just blinked in reply. “Oh, my dear, obviously you do not recognize me,” he replied mockingly. “Let me show you.” With a shimmer, his face disappeared behind a mask of glamour, revealing the more familiar features of a one Robert Mayfair.

Orchid let out a loud cry. “You were here all along! How could anyone not have seen—?”

Rillian purposefully tightened his grip until she winced. “Maybe you should have asked Egoraven. She knew all along. But I guess keeping her secret was more important than keeping all of you safe from me.” Her hand snapped away from his grasp, and his grin turned wicked. He then returned his gaze to her companion as Alexandria hovered near him.

“It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Sir Cerrik.” He spoke as if they were back at banquet and not in the middle of a dark garden illuminated by the light of a red moon. “I know this comes as a shock, and I must apologize for being the one to take Alexandria away. Considering the way she was heading, someone was going to do that eventually.”

Whatever wonder and apprehension he felt dissolved into bubbling anger. “You cur—!” Cerrik snapped as he felt his arm being grabbed.

“Don’t listen to him!” Orchid pleaded. “This is more of his glamour!”

“Oh, come now. I’m doing you a favor,” the elf taunted. “At least you can honestly say Alexandria was taken by enchantment instead of the more earthly wiles of another woman.”

Cerrik’s temper flared, especially as it became apparent this creature was taking immense pleasure in his humiliation. Rillian continued, making a show of how Alexandria pawed at him with blind adoration. “And some advice, Sir Cerrik. The next time you get yourself a bride, make sure not to wait until the wedding night before trying out the goods. This one had many enter her chamber, but a blossom never touched by a man is still as sweet.”

Feeling him tense up, Orchid tried to hold on to him further, but she was no match for his anger and equally bruised ego. Thrown back with a forceful shove, the courtesan stumbled away, just catching herself. Enraged, Cerrik charged the elf with his fists balled so tight as to turn his knuckles white. He would kill this beast with his bare hands and parade the body through the city for all to see.

The elf didn’t seem to move, every ounce of his being showing not the slightest bit of concern for this bull of a human lunging at him. With a flick of an arm and almost unnatural speed, a flash of steel sparked, followed by a sudden stillness. Cerrik stood frozen—his outrage cut short into a wet gurgle. With a heavy thump, he collapsed as if he were held by invisible strings that were suddenly cut. A black pool began to form under his neck.

“NO! CERRIK!” Orchid screamed, throwing herself at the fallen man. Grasping at him, her hands grew stained and sticky as she shook him in vain. Panic overwhelming her, she turned her attention to Alexandria who looked on callously. “Alexandria! You must wake from this! How many more must die for you?” She clutched at Cerrik, giving him one more futile rattle. “You’ll never escape the castle! The guards are on their way!” she yelled at the elf, who watched on, more annoyed than anything.

“Go ahead. Scream for them if so sure of it,” he challenged.

Orchid gasped, realizing why no one had yet come to their aid. “Those are sigils—!”

She felt his fingers entwine tightly in her hair, pulling her head back to meet his gaze. “What? Did you think I would come here unprepared?” Offended, he raised his hand as if to punch her, but instead, the glamour shimmered around it, revealing glowing symbols all over the ground and brickwork of the walls. The entire area of the alcove had been enchanted. Rillian forced her head back even further, her nails scratching against his grasp. He didn’t react to the tearing of his skin, as it was not the first time he bore such marks. “I should take you as well, but elves have no interest in whores.” He snapped her forward, throwing Orchid against the stone bench. She writhed as her head throbbed from the impact, letting out a fading groan as she succumbed to unconsciousness. The garden alcove fell silent once more.

Putting his hands on his waist, the elf prince nonchalantly surveyed the scene before him. Puckering his lips, he considered the matter settled. It was not the result he wanted, but it would be the one he would take. His magic ground against the will of the Pull, and he was lucky he had the strength to accomplish as much as he did. However, the Valley called, and it was time to go home. He stared at the lady still lovingly watching him. She was going to be a burden on his trek back, and he contemplated whether it would be worth it. He let out a breath as he thumbed the hilt of his sword.

“My work in Varcyn is pretty much done. Are you ready to leave, my dear?” At worst, he could throw her to the dragons as a consolation prize. Maybe the novelty of a human noblewoman from the land they were so determined to conquer would distract them from his kin for a little while—if she survived their attraction long enough. She was only one, after all, and the Raikashans tended to be careless. Alexandria smiled and nodded excitedly, completely unaware of her fate. As they prepared to leave, the spiral horn in her hands began to glow.

The human and the elf were entranced, neither of them expecting such a thing to happen. Rillian especially was surprised by the horn’s surge of magic, and as Alexandria held it out between them, he began to hear a purposeful tapping closing in where they stood. Staring into the shadows, he caught a second glow. He sucked his lips as he gave a wide, satisfied smile. “Of course,” he muttered, his veins flooding with euphoria. He pushed the lady to the side as a unicorn woman, blade at the ready, appeared in the alcove with them. Her horn flashed, followed by a matching one coming from the horn Alexandria held. Her hooves clacked against the stone.

“I didn’t think you had it in you to come this far,” he replied, in no rush to draw his own weapon. “Do you really think you can undo what is destined to happen?” He waited with bated breath.

“No more than you can,” Egoraven answered, raising her sword and lashing her tail. Her words came out deliberately; she was not in the mood for conversation.

He bathed in her palpable rage. “You are a fool to think you can outmatch me. I trained your teachers. I trained you. I know your every move.”

With clenched teeth and a growl that rumbled, Egoraven rushed the elf. With a flash, his blade met hers, blocking just in time, although it would have been foolish for anyone to think Rillian would allow her to strike him down so easily. With a heave, he pushed her off, his arching brow the only sign that he was surprised by her attack.

“You didn’t train all of them,” she jeered, lunging again.

Their blades rang as metal clashed on metal, the frenzied attack not as easily ended as the elf prince had hoped. This was not the sparring he had grown accustomed to with Egoraven back in Edinrahn. Her onslaught was targeted and filled with weight. She was not holding back the strength he knew she had but was forced to tame. Her moves held one purpose, and as Rillian blocked and parried, he would be damned if he was going to give her what she wanted.

Egoraven snapped her arms, trying to topple Rillian, who jumped back. Bracing her weight, she swung her sword in a hacking motion, not at all graceful but almost getting the job done as it struck close enough to Rillian’s face to catch strands of his red-brown hair. The elf dodged to put distance between them, and she followed, trying not to give him a second to recover.

Realizing they were at least equally matched, Rillian knew he had to change tactics. The Pull drained him as much as the fight, and he felt his strength waning. He had to find anything to get the upper hand. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the lady watching, the horn shining like a beacon in her grasp. If Egoraven was fueled by her rage, he had to cut her off from its source. Instead of confronting the unicorn, he threw himself at Alexandria, snatching the horn out of her hands.

Egoraven fell to a complete stop, facing the elf as he brandished his blade in one hand and the spiral horn in the other. “No—!” she gasped.

They panted and huffed, facing each other. He feinted the horn at her, and Egoraven skipped back, holding her blade away.

“Ah! So, you won’t risk striking the horn!” he gloated, stepping forward and watching her take another retreating step. “Your distraction will be the end of you.”

Egoraven saw him lunge, blocking his blade and keeping her eye on the horn, trying to avoid it—both striking it and being struck by it. A unicorn’s horn was indeed a lethal weapon, but especially to another unicorn, as its healing magic could block hers. A sword might kill her, but the horn definitely would.

“How did you like my presentation?” Rillian quipped—his words another weapon at his disposal. “You should consider him fortunate. The Raikashans would have had a much worse fate waiting for him. They’re actually quite creative when given the chance.”

Egoraven’s jaw clenched as her eyes shifted from him and his hands, unsure where to keep her attention. Her tail whipped in agitation.

“Why do you insist on staying here?” he continued. “Look at how easily these mortals die. They are meaningless in the face of what we have. Of what you and I could have. We can reign forever while these ants are crushed by the heel of our kingdom, forgotten by the time we own as our birthright.”

Egoraven felt herself trembling, refusing to condone any of his words with her own. What started as a singular mission to kill him was now replaced with an even more urgent one—getting Amadaeo’s horn back. Rillian continued taunting her, but Egoraven heard none of it except for loud ringing in her ears. She threw her sword at him.

Rillian jumped, startled by the unhinged attack. He easily deflected the sword with his own, utterly confused at how it didn’t even look like it was aimed at anything. She literally just threw it. And that pause was all Egoraven needed. Skill was abandoned for brute force as she jumped forward, raised her leg, and let a golden hoof fly.

Rillian was thrown back, striking the ground as the kick knocked all the wind out of him. Pain shot through his body, but his glamour was at least useful for something other than simple illusions and spells. It was far from unicorn magic, but it was magic just the same. Stars blinding his sight, he realized both his hands were empty. As he lay stunned, he felt a pounding weight on his stomach and six hoof-like fingers wrap around his neck.

Immortals can be killed, but not as easily as humans. Egoraven felt the elf prince writhe and struggle beneath her, but he proved more resilient than she wanted. Her vision turned white as Rillian returned the favor, punching her. As she cupped her throbbing face, Rillian fought through choking gasps, trying to regain himself.

“My dear prince!” Alexandria cried, reaching out to him. Rillian saw the gleam of the fallen horn just out of reach. He scrambled furiously for it. Clutching it in his hand, he jumped to his feet as the lady wrapped her arms around his purple-bruised neck like a besotted sweetheart, planting kisses he ignored. Egoraven crouched, her tail waving like a flag, readying to pounce, lady or no lady.

Rillian grinned at her through corn-silk hair, his pupils contracting to pinpoints. Alexandria squealed in bewilderment as he roughly grabbed her face, unceremoniously spinning her around until they both faced the unicorn. “If you want your uncle’s horn so badly—then come and get it!” he bellowed, driving the horn through Alexandria’s back. Jutting through her chest, the ivory smeared black with blood.

Egoraven’s mouth fell open as Alexandria staggered, staring wide-eyed at the horn that protruded from her. Blood began to dribble from her lips as their eyes met, Egoraven’s brown to Alexandria’s returning blue. Tears pooled and fell as whatever spell she was under broke. “Egoraven…?” Alexandria replied in the faintest whisper.

The horn retracted with a hard tug and a wet slide, leaving Alexandria hovering until Rillian used the momentum to propel her away from him. Egoraven leaped, catching the falling lady in her arms. “I’m sorry…” she heard Alexandria mutter as she felt the heat of blood on her shirt. “I’m sorry…” she kept repeating as the unicorn cradled her.

Laying her on the ground, Egoraven tried comforting her as Alexandria’s breaths quickly turned shallow. Placing her hands on the wound, her horn sparkled, and her fingers glowed, but she knew it was all for nothing.

My magic—You were struck with a unicorn horn—It’s countering my healing…

“I’m so sorry,” Alexandria whispered one last time as her breath stopped.

Egoraven frantically shook her, trying to force the sapling of enchantment to do anything, but the magic would not do what it could not. “No! You can’t die! I won’t let you!” she screamed into deaf ears, knowing she was lying.

All Alexandria wanted was the chance to live the life she wanted. Egoraven grew cold, sobbing at how callously she had treated the lady who only wanted to love her. Sobbing, tears poured down her cheeks as life ebbed beneath her fingers. Death and regret were both sensations Egoraven never wanted to feel again. She called her magic one more time, but it refused to answer.

“I won’t let—I won't—I—”

The unicorn suddenly felt herself go stiff as the taste of copper flooded her mouth. Feeling oozing from the corner of her lips and nose, Egoraven dabbed a hesitant finger that turned sticky with blood.

“I told you your distraction would be the end of you,” Rillian breathed in her ear. His hand finding purchase on her shoulder, he grunted like a lover as he brought her closer to him, making Egoraven suddenly aware of the pressure at her waist. Where her magic was silent before, it now screamed, swirling around the sword impaled through her side. With a satisfied exhale, Rillian pulled the blade out.

Shock deluging her, Egoraven slowly raised her head, her eyes following the bloody weapon looming over her like a gleaming, metal erection, with the elf prince relishing his afterglow. She fell back as her magic worked urgently to close the wound. Something had to give, and she let the blackness devour her.

Rillian stared over the unconscious unicorn, the pool of blood seeping larger under her. As much as he wanted to enjoy this sight before him, as his strength waned, so did the spells blocking the alcove from the rest of the castle. It would only be a matter of time before they were found. Sheathing his sword, he began his work.

“This would have never happened if only you just did what you were supposed to do,” he started speaking as if she could hear him. Grabbing her arms, he dragged Egoraven, huffing as he dumped her away from the rest of the bodies. “Our fathers were finally planning our marriage, but it wasn’t like you had a chance with anyone otherwise.” He grunted as he positioned her between his boots. She was heavier than he had expected. He had also never seen Egoraven look so vulnerable. He licked his lips. “You a queen?” he spoke. “My wife? Anyone’s wife? What a laughable vision. Who would want a repulsive satyr like you, anyway?”

All this trouble for her. This thing he had been saddled with since his father brought in a half-girl with spindly goat-like legs and a golden spike in the center of her head. And here she was, unconscious between his feet and still causing trouble for him. And yet…

He lowered himself until he straddled her, digging into his collar and pulling out a woven cord with a piece of ivory dangling from it. He pressed himself against her, not caring about the blood staining his clothing. He ran his fingers through her hair, leaning in close enough to feel her breath against his face. She was still alive, at least. “It’s about time you learned your place in this world,” he growled. Grabbing her collar, he ripped open her shirt.

Rillian had meant only to access her throat, but as more of her skin appeared, he kept tearing until the linen barely hung off her. He hyper-focused on her ample cleavage, her modesty kept by her breast band. He nuzzled her neck, breathing in the scent of roses he remembered from long ago, then brushed his lips down to the top of her breasts. “How easily your animal side makes me forget you are still a woman,” he muttered as he caressed her skin. “It wouldn’t bother me in the least right now to give you the smell of man you are sorely lacking.”

His inseam twitched at his words. It would be so easy. But he had wasted too much time already. He had to finish what he had started, and taking the unicorn princess in the middle of a royal garden wasn’t it. If his plan worked, he would have plenty of opportunities later. “You’re lucky that I have other pressing matters to deal with,” he replied, more to convince himself as he leaned in and gave Egoraven a deep kiss as he groped her breast.

His lips smeared with blood, Rillian snapped up and broke the cord around his neck. Taking the piece of ivory, he held it like a small knife. “I know that despite how severe your wound is, you will heal yourself and survive—but I am going to give you a taste of your own mortality.” He pressed his hand on her chest, tightening the skin of her collarbone. Turning down the point, he began to carve.

The trembling started immediately, forcing the elf prince to lock his knees and press his weight down harder to keep Egoraven as still as possible. She gasped and squirmed but did not wake. Rillian concentrated as he scrawled, blood seeping from each mark he made. The sigil was very specific, and he didn’t want to have gone through all this effort to get it wrong. Even with what little he accomplished, he could feel her magic fighting against it, pulling away from her healing to stop him. He knew her magic would do that. He knew that the sigil itself was not enough—that her magic would have erased it the second he started. Which was why he knew it wasn’t just the right sigil he needed but the right tool. Three circles and a cross were added to the main ring, his marks remaining where he drew them with a shard of unicorn horn.

A sharp pain exploded through him, causing a scream to escape. The surprise popped open his fingers and the ivory piece disappeared in the tangle of Egoraven’s hair. He lurched, clutching at an arrow shaft embedded in his shoulder.

“Get away from her!” he heard from behind him. Jumping up, he saw a fox readying another arrow as a horse man rushed forward with a curved blade in hand.

With what was left of his strength, Rillian yanked at the shaft, painfully breaking it as part of the tip remained in his shoulder. He would have to deal with that later. His time had run out. Throwing the remainder of the arrow to the side, he made his break towards one of the walls, making no haste in jumping it—just barely escaping the swipe of a sword and hearing another arrow shatter against the stone. Johar clutched the top of the wall, ready to jump himself, when he heard his name.

“Johar! Morgan! Forget him!” Desmond rushed directly to where Egoraven lay, not quite registering the three other bodies that also littered the alcove. “Egoraven!” he screamed, unsure where to even start with her condition. Her ripped open shirt, originally a pale yellow was now stained a dark red. Morgan and Johar stared in horror as Desmond scooped her into his arms. Gingerly cradling her, she was limp and cold but still alive. “Oh, great Helo!” he cried. “What did he do to you?” His hands burned as her magic swirled and fought, culminating in the smeared mess at her collar. Following the discomfort, he focused on what the magic was doing and realized what he was looking at. He recognized the sigil from the many draining stones created by the mage council. The symbol of Amdusias was used mostly on relics to control more powerful casters. In flesh, however, the design was corrupted into blood magic—borderline malignant spellwork that was heavily regulated when it wasn’t outright outlawed.

“Oh, no!” he said as a new wave of panic set in. He turned to Johar and Morgan. We have to get her back inside!” As he began to lift her, guards flooded the alcove and surrounded them.

“HALT! You are all under arrest!” The declaration was accompanied by swords and pikes pointed at them.

“Arrest?” Desmond screeched. “Captain! This woman is dying! I need to heal her!”

“Get your hands up, wizard!” the captain ordered as his men tightened their circle. Johar dropped his blade and raised his hands, acquiescing to the guards. Tossing his bow, Morgan followed suit. Desmond was the only one who wavered, debating whether it would be prudent to pull rank on the royal captain of the guard. He gently returned Egoraven to the ground, his clothing completely smeared red. Hoping that relinquishing to the guard would allow him to get what they needed faster, he remained on his knees and hesitantly raised blood-stained hands.