No. He had something else in mind.
As they reached the top of the stairs, Blake charged down the hall, galloping towards them.
He’d shifted. He was a solid ton of muscle topped by a sharp, diamond-hard horn, and if he didn’t impale them, he was going to knock them down the stairs.
Iris froze in horror. She could already feel how easily she would slip off the frictionless marble. She’d fly backwards—she would break a leg and then be at Blake’s mercy—Keith would be right there beside her—
If she shifted back to her human form, she’d collapse and Blake would trample her. She had no idea what to do.
But Keith did.
He leapt forward, meeting Blake head-on. Their horns clashed in another shower of sparks.
Blake still had the advantage. He had the whole length of the hall behind him, and Keith only had a few inches. All Blake had to do was succeed in pushing him back, and Keith would fall just as Blake had wanted him to. She was sure Keith knew that, but it wasn’t like he could strategize all that well in the middle of fighting for his life.
Think, think, think.
Sheknewshe could outsmart Blake. She had to be able to do that. His thinking was rigid, black-and-white, two-dimensional ....
Two-dimensional.
Literallytwo-dimensional.
Right now, Blake was focused on two things: length (the distance between Keith and that top stair) and height (the drop down to the first floor). Those were the limits of Blake’s imagination. And that meant that he’d forgotten something. Width.
He and Keith were fighting on the landing, and the landing only had one wall.The other side was just a banister.
A very, very breakable banister that definitely couldn’t handle a unicorn’s weight.
Iris had to get Keith’s attention. It was a risk, because the second he focused on her instead of on Blake, he’d start to slide backwards, but this was all she could think of. She let out a high-pitched, ear-piercing whinny.
Keith turned his head, alarmed, and instantly lost an inch of footing.
Blake’s nostrils were flaring with wild excitement. He was sure he had this in the bag.
Iris nosed at the banister, and she saw Keith’s eyes go wide.
His horn clashed with Blake’s again, and this time he used all his strength to shove Blake to his left, toward the railing.
Blake wasn’t braced for that angle of attack. He went easily, not even realizing what was happening. He probably thought Keith was just trying to go around him instead of through him. He let out an exasperated huff and just kept pushing forward.
Same old Blake. Still refusing to see any reason to change.
Keith’s breathing was ragged now, and his back hooves were getting closer and closer to the lip of the top step. He put everything into forcing Blake to the left—
—and then Blake hit the banister. He actually kicked at it, an instinctive reaction to feeling a sudden, unexpected touch on his back legs. One of the intricately carved newel posts splintered.
Iris didn’t know if he heard it happen or not. All she knew was that Keith shouldered him hard to the left, making Blake’s full weight hit the railing, and that splintered post snapped in two.
It took the rest of the banister with it.
Blake fell.
He tried shifting back in midair, maybe hoping that his lighter human body would be better able to survive the hard landing. Iris didn’t think it would work. The angles were all wrong.
And in the end it didn’t matter, because the fall didn’t give Blake enough time to complete his shift.
He hit the marble floor of his own foyer, and that was it. In death, he didn’t look like the last of the Abbotts, destined for the Silver Council from birth; he didn’t look like a unicorn and a gentleman. He was a half-human, half-unicornthing, as messy and incomplete on the outside as Iris had ever felt on the inside. He looked like every mean, monstrous part of himself he’d tried to hide.
