His breath caught in his throat.
A lot of unicorns had a kind of ethereal radiance about them, but Iris was really something else.Stunningdidn’t even begin to cover it. She had warm brown skin and bright, amber-tinted eyes, and her hair fell in soft black curls, gently settling around her shoulders.
There was some silvery-pink scarring on her chin and right cheek, and she kept her face turned partly away from the camera. Something must have happened to her, and it must have hurt like hell. He wished he could’ve been there to help her.
Could he help her now? As vivid and striking as her eyes were, they also looked shuttered. Whatever she was thinking, she didn’t want to let it show.
She didn’t look sad, exactly, but he knew what it was like to wall yourself off like that. It certainly hadn’t made him too happy.
She deserved the kind of life he’d found with the Marshals: a life that came with a lot more freedom and open affection and permission to make mistakes. But could he give her that? He was the guy everyone agreed needed more vacations. Nothing in his life so far had suggested he had some secret talent for helping people relax and enjoy themselves. And what if he was wrong, and that wasn’t even what she wanted?
You have to meet her, his unicorn said.
If I do this,Keith said,it’s not the kind of thing I can undo lightly. If I tell the Council nobeforeI meet her, then I’m the one who looks like a jerk. I’m fine with that. But if I meet her and then back out, people will think I’m saying there’s something wrong with her.
He didn’t want to do anything to make her feel even more closed-off.
I know what’s at stake, his unicorn said impatiently.But if she needs help, you have to try to help her.
He knew it was right. And for all the unicorn world’s faults, it had brought him up to value doing what was right over what was easy or comfortable. It was still a good lesson, and one he wanted to live up to.
If there was anything he could do to make Iris Lightfoot happier, he wanted to do it.
He slid the photo back in the envelope and tucked it in the inside pocket of his jacket, where the paper crinkled slightly against his chest.
He would leave in the morning.
3
Iris had never beenso nervous in her life, but she was determined not to show it.
Be calm. Be still. Be in control.
If she didn’t follow the instructions she was chanting in her head, she’d run straight out of the room. Her stomach was tied in knots.
She was holding herself so rigidly that she felt like she might crack into a thousand pieces.
