At last, however, I spy them in the distance. Three riders astridepowerful licorneir, galloping toward us across an open swath of countryside. My stomach ties itself in a knot. I find myself suddenly fighting the urge to beg Taar to change his mind, to turn us about-face and into flight. But his broad shoulders are set, his face grim. He and Elydark continue on at a brisk but unhurried pace. He is in no rush but neither will he hesitate.
I close my eyes, remember what he revealed to me under the shadow ofvardimnar:that dichotomy of love and fear, held together only by trust. A treacherous, vital harmony. I love this man. I fear him too. I am learning to trust him. And trust, I find, is the hardest of the three.
The three licorneir burst into flame as they draw near, preparing for battle. Elydark does not respond in kind, and though I see a ripple of fire run down Diira’s neck, I urge her,Peace. Peace. We must not provoke them.Diira’s song is frustrated, but she heeds my voice and keeps her flame in check.
Though they had seemed painfully far away, the Licornyn riders bear down upon us quite suddenly, driving their mounts in a circle around us, a whirling vortex of flame. Diira tosses her head, her wordless song angry. I guide her nearer to Elydark, drawing strength from Taar’s stoic sternness. At last the Licornyn come to a halt, one before us, two behind. Diira’s song protects me from the intense heat of their soulfire, and I refuse to let my mind return to that space of burning pain when I lay in the valley of dead unicorns. No, I cannot go there now. I must remain in the present.
I recognize Kildorath on the great golden unicorn before me. He wears a black band of warpaint across his face, stretching from temple to temple. From this darkness, his eyes spark with fiery hatred. He is a powerful man, not so large of frame as Taar, but densely muscled, his body a weapon honed for war. His hair is pulled back from his face in tight braids which hang down his sweat-gleaming shoulders. He reminds me strangely of someone, but in that moment I cannot think who. It’s a strange impression, scratching at the edge of my mind.
“Luinar,”he says, bitterness coating his tongue as he speaks the title.
“Kildorath,” Taar replies and nothing more.
The two men stare at each other intently, a struggle of souls taking place in the silence between them. Then Kildorath turns suddenly to me. He carries a Licornyn blade unsheathed in his hand and points it at me. A stream of Licornyn words fall from his mouth, and I understand only one:drothlar.
Cursebound.
Taar answers, his voice level but darkly pitched. He has not drawn his weapon, but his hand rests on the hilt. What will I do if battle breaks out? Will I obey Taar’s injunction and flee, leaving him to be cut down by his own friends? I can’t do it. I never could, whatever Taar’s wishes may be.
Courage, Vellara,Diira sings softly into my heart.
As though hearing that song, Kildorath turns sharply to meagain, murderous rage flaring in his eyes. Diira snorts and puts down her head, horn angled aggressively. Kildorath’s golden licorneir takes a backwards step. Taar speaks again, his voice harsher than before, and Elydark moves to angle himself between Kildorath and me. The great red unicorn simmers with fire along his flanks, ready to burst into full flame at any moment, but still Taar holds him in check.
Kildorath spits a reply, to which Taar responds again with firm authority. This time I recognize another word:Halaema.It is the name of one of the elders in the Hidden City. Taar is urging Kildorath and his men to bring us back to the elders for our fate to be decided. I glance over my shoulder at the other two riders and their mounts. They stare at me with trepidation, though I cannot guess why.
Then it occurs to me: they are afraid. They know what I did to two others of their kind. When Licornyn riders dragged me across the temple yard, intending to cast me into that holding pit, I had cried out to their unicorns in desperation. Something in my voice affected them in a way I could never have predicted. Beams of songlight burst from their horns, directly into their riders, dropping the two men like stones.
I bite my lip. It’s not as though I’d intended to control the licorneir, and I don’t know that I could do it again. But I cannot deny my gods-gift reacts in unexpected ways to these beings of song and fire. And with my own gift augmented by Diira’s voice, what might I accomplish if I tried?
Vellara,Diira says, as though reading my thoughts,I sing with you. Whatever song you choose, I sing with you.
Her willingness warms my heart. Tempted though I am, however, I restrain both her and myself. Taar would not like it. It would not help us gain the trust of his people if I went around wresting power from their licorneir.
Kildorath speaks again, a series of harsh words aimed at me.“Ko!”Taar barks, a negative response.
“What did he say?” I demand, turning to Taar.
My husband bares his teeth in a rough grimace. I fear he won’t answer me, but he lets out a short breath and grinds out the words. “Kildorath has agreed to escort us back to the Hidden City and bring us before the elders.”
“Well, that’s good. Isn’t it?”
He shakes his head, a short, sharp gesture. “He will only do it if you submit to being bound and gagged. They do not trust your voice.”
If I needed confirmation, here I have it: they fear me. They fear my gods-gift. While the knowledge should make me feel more powerful, instead a frustrated hopelessness twists in my gut. But I turn to Taar. “It’s all right. I’ll do it.”
His eyes flash. Elydark’s own fire seems to spark in the darkness of his pupils. “I will not have you trussed up like a prisoner. You are my wife; you will be treated with respect.”
How can I not love this man and his protective urges? But this is not going to get us anywhere other than bloodshed.
“Taar,” I say, infusing my voice with an entreating song. “Taar, this is how it must be.”
He growls low in his throat, his lips curled back in a snarl.
“Trust,” I say softly, then reach out and touch his arm. “Remember? Trust me. This is for the best.”
He wants to fight. He wants to lunge forward on his powerful licorneir and lay into his friend with sword drawn and fire blazing. He wants to defend me, no matter what it will cost him. But the cost is too great; we both know it.
In the end he inclines his head. He cannot speak but offers silent acceptance.
