“We can all talk,” a feminine voice says from behind us.
I twist to look over my shoulder, trying to find the one communicating with words instead of menacing stares. None of them make themselves known.
“A little help?” I ask Genie.
He shrugs. “Despite my almost infinite power, I am not, in fact, a unicorn whisperer.”
“Um, so we kind of have a revolution to start and a war to avert. Unless you have need of our faces, we should be on our way,” I say.
“Why would they need our faces?” Charming asks.
“To eat as snacks.”
He jerks, and his horse huffs in annoyance.Please do it. Ditch the prince. Leave him here for crimes against maidens’ feet. No one will be sad.
“We would never consume flesh. We’re vegetarians,” another, this time masculine voice, says from behind us.
“Okay, if we’re going to chat about dietary decisions, I’m going to need you to step forward.”
None of them move.
“We know your quest, Daphne and Gwyneth, Lady Grimms,” the leader says with a stamp of his hoof. “And we wish to be represented.”
“In what way?” Gwyneth asks.
I squirm in the saddle. How does staying still make the floof situation worse?
“We will send someone with you to record the events in the temple as they are, not as they should be.”
Gwyneth bristles. “That’s my role.”
He blinks at her. “It is, but when you play a central role, the facts can be distorted. We were here long before your Grimm ancestors, and we will be here long after.”
“Wait, there’s a before?” I ask. “I thought they made this world.”
“No, they shaped it. There’s a difference.”
That shocking statement ripples around our group, except for Genie. I point at him. “You already knew that. How?”
His lips quirk. “I, too, have my secrets.”
I glance around at the unicorns surrounding us, at the intelligence in their eyes, at the quiet strength in the way they stand.
“That seems reasonable. And for what it’s worth, I would very much like to personally punch anyone involved in the use of any unicorn parts. They are yours, and you should have the right to do with them as you wish.”
A flicker of something passes through his gaze. Approval, maybe, or whatever the unicorn equivalent is.
I nod, folding my arms as if I’ve just made a very reasonable contribution. “So, who is coming on this great adventure, and for the love of feminine parts, do you have a floof-friendly saddle available for my horse?”
“The answer to your first question is me,” the leader announces. “And to the second, what is a floof?”
Chapter Thirty Eight
Daphne
“Istill don’t understand the logic of the word ‘floof,’” Stan, the bossy unicorn, says.
“There are many other words for it,” I tell him.
