“Ziggy, we have to get fitted...” The voice comes from the boutique entrance, and I turn to see Corvis standing there. His mouth hangs open as he stares at me, his usual composed demeanor completely shattered. The sight of his reaction sends heat rushing through my veins.
My eyes roam over the elegant suit he’s chosen for the processional—charcoal gray that brings out the silver in his eyes, cut to perfection across his broad shoulders. I move closer to him, drawn by an invisible force, my heels clicking against the marble floor with each step.
As I get closer, I see his eyes shift to his dragon’s silver gaze as he stares at me with unconcealed hunger. The intensity of his focus makes my skin tingle with awareness. Without thinking, I reach out and adjust his tie, my fingers brushing against the warm skin of his throat. Then I reach up to fix his long white-blonde hair, which has fallen slightly across his face.
“You should leave your hair down. I like it this way—it’s beautiful.” His hair falls through my fingers like silk strands, impossibly soft and catching the light like spun platinum. I can’t help but play with it for a moment too long, mesmerized by the texture and the way it moves.
“Of course...” His voice wavers, rough with an emotion I can’t quite identify but that makes something low in my belly clench with want.
I focus on his eyes again, really seeing them for what feels like the first time. His silver eyes are so rich with color and depth, like molten metal with flecks of starlight. It’s as if I’m seeing him—really seeing him—for the first time.
I offer him a smile that feels different from any I’ve given him before, then press my cheek to his in a gesture that’s both innocent and intimate. His skin is warm and slightly rough with the beginning of evening stubble. Moving closer, I rub just under my ear against his jaw, then turn my head and do the same on the other side. I’m scent-marking him, claiming him in the most primal way possible.
The action is instinctive, driven by something deeper than conscious thought. Leaning in close, all I can smell is myself on his skin—my scent mixing with his natural musk of baked bread and steel. If he has a female, this will anger her, and she’ll hunt me down. And when she does,I’ll kill her without hesitation. The thought should shock me, but it doesn’t. It feels as natural as breathing.
I back up to look at him once more, taking in his stunned expression and the way his chest rises and falls rapidly. His reaction is all I needed to see to make my decision. This is definitely the dress towear. If I can affect him this strongly now, imagine what will happen at the formal itself.
Turning with deliberate grace, I head back into the dressing room to change, leaving him standing there looking like he’s been struck by lightning. The memory of his silver eyes and the feel of his skin against mine follow me into the small space, and I can’t help but smile at my reflection in the mirror.
Ten days suddenly doesn’t feel like nearly long enough.
Later that day.
Klauth stands at the head of where they’ve taped off the practice area for our family’s formation. The white tape creates precise lines across the cobblestone courtyard, marking our positions like a military drill. Mom will be up with Klauth in the ceremonial box, watching from above. Lily will ride with her dad, their matching bay horses already prancing with nervous energy. I’m positioned behind them with Corvis, then my siblings will follow in pairs. Allister is also expected up in the box with his father.
Titan dwarfs Corvis’s sleek mare by a considerable margin, his massive black form making every other horse look like ponies in comparison. The problem is immediately apparent—he’s not liking being positioned behind Abraxis and his temperamental stallion. I can see the tension in Titan’s corded neck muscles as he keeps reaching out with bared teeth, nipping Abraxis’s horse on the hindquarters with sharp, warning bites.
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” I call out, my voice carrying across the courtyard over the sound of hooves striking stone and leather creaking.
“Everyone looks great!” Klauth yells back, clearly missing the brewing conflict between the stallions.
“That’s not the problem! Titan doesn’t like being behind Abraxis’s horse.” No sooner are the words out of my mouth than Titan lunges forward with a vicious bite, his teeth making contact with a wet smack.
This time, Abraxis’s horse has had enough. The chestnut stallion explodes into action, his powerful hindquarters bunching as he starts to buck and strike at Titan with iron-shod hooves. The sound of metal shoes against stone sends sparks flying, and I can smell the sharp scent of fear-sweat from both horses mixing with the dust kicked up by their violent dance.
I use my wings to launch myself out of the way, the black membranes catching air as I land near my mom with barely a sound. My heart hammers against my ribs as I watch the escalating battle. Hemlocke rushes in from the stable entrance, his boots pounding against the cobblestones as he tries to reach the fighting stallions.
Abraxis is thrown from his saddle with bone-jarring force, hitting the ground hard enough to knock the wind from his lungs. His horse rears up on hind legs, striking at Titan with deadly intent. The two stallions are locked in primal combat—ears pinned, nostrils flared, teeth bared in savage displays of dominance. The metallic tang of blood taints the air, and I can’t help the tears that spring to my eyes.
“Stop fighting!” I yell, my voice cracking with desperation as I move closer despite the danger.
Hemlocke shifts on the spot, his transformation immediate and breathtaking. His unicorn form is massive and armor-plated, with hide that gleams like polished obsidian. A large spiraled black horn erupts from his forehead, with a shorter secondary horn just below it. His eyes burn like molten embers, casting an otherworldly glow, and shadows shift and writhe through his mane and tail like living things.
The sight of him is terrifying and magnificent. He positions himself between the two stallions with commanding presence, his horns lowered threateningly. The power radiating from him is palpable, pressing against my skin like heat from a forge. Both horses immediately cease their fighting, recognizing a superior predator when they see one.
Titan limps off toward the stables, his proud head hanging low, dark blood dripping from several wounds onto the pale stones. Abraxis’s stallion moves to stand protectively by his fallen rider, sides heaving and nostrils still flared with residual aggression.
“Raven, don’t get close to Hemlocke while he’s shifted. Black unicorns are unpredictable,” my father yells from across the courtyard, his voice sharp with warning.
But my gut tells me differently.Something about Hemlocke’s presence feels safe rather than threatening. “Shhh, big guy. They stopped fighting, and I’m safe.” I hold my hands up to him, palms open and non-threatening, as he raises his magnificent head and flares his nostrils. The sound of his breathing is deep and rhythmic, like wind through a cavern. “Thank you for stepping in.”
He lowers his head slowly, with careful deliberation, and presses his velvet-soft nose to my palm. The contact sends warmth up my arm, and I can feel his breath—surprisingly sweet, like meadow grass—against my skin. I laugh a little, thinking how surreal this whole situation is. As a child, I’d dreamed of having a unicorn as a friend, though I’d always imagined the white ones from fairy tales, not this dark, dangerous beauty.
Eventually, Hemlocke calms down and backs away with measured steps before shifting back to human form. His transformation leaves him slightly unsteady, and he nods in my direction before walking back toward the stables to check on Titan. I notice how his gait is careful, controlled, as if the shift took something out of him.
“You are friends with a black unicorn?” Mom asks as we watch him disappear into the stable’s shadowed interior. Her voice carries a mixture of amazement and concern.
“Yeah. You taught me not to judge someone by their species alone. He’s shown me nothing but kindness and helped me with Titan.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I look down at the ground and my stomach lurches. Blood is everywhere—bright red droplets and smears painting the cobblestones like abstract art. Abraxis’s stallion is bleeding from multiple wounds, and the vet is already working on him, her hands moving with practiced efficiency.
