“All I know,” I said, measuring my words carefully, “is what the Dark Lord told me and what his witch Enid let slip. He claimed I have goddess blood, whatever that means. And Enidonce called my mother ‘Arty’ when she appeared to help save me. That’s it. That’s all I have.”
The unicorn beneath me tossed its head slightly, its spiral horn catching light and fracturing it into a thousand tiny rainbows. I stroked its neck automatically, the pure white coat soft as cloud beneath my fingers.
“Arty,” Alain repeated thoughtfully. “Could be short for Artemis? Or Artoria? There are legends of women with such names in the old books, women with powers beyond mortal understanding.”
“How wonderful for them.” I couldn’t keep the bitterness from my voice. “I’m sure they had perfect control over their magic and weren’t hunted like animals for possessing it.”
Alain winced. “Isabeau, I didn’t mean—”
“I know what you meant.” I sighed, softening my tone. “But asking me about the source of my magic is like asking a newborn babe how to walk. I’m figuring it out as I go, and the only guide I have is instinct and distant memories.”
We rode in blessed silence for almost five full minutes before Alain cleared his throat again.
“What about the raven?” he asked, gesturing to the dark shape that had been circling above us periodically since we left the castle. It was back again, a black silhouette against the patchy blue sky visible between tree branches. “It seems to be following us. Or guiding us?”
I looked up at the bird, a strange fondness warming my chest despite my irritation with Alain. “It’s been with me since Thorndale. Since before I escaped Gaspard, really. It visits when I need help the most.”
As if acknowledging my words, the raven let out a harsh caw and dived lower, swooping through the trees before circling back in the direction we’d come from.
“I think it’s warning us,” I said, a chill running down my spine. “Gaspard must be following our trail. The raven saw him at the castle, perhaps?”
Alain’s hand moved to the sword at his hip, his gaze sharpening as he scanned the forest behind us. “How far back, do you think?”
“I don’t know.” The words were becoming a refrain that grated on my own ears. “The raven isn’t exactly speaking to me in full sentences. It shows up, leads me where I need to go, and disappears again. It came to me in Thorndale while I was trapped. Led me to the forest when I escaped the drowning cage. Guided me to the castle the each time I’ve needed sanctuary.”
“And you don’t find that odd?” Alain pressed. “A bird that seems to understand human danger, that knows exactly where to lead you for safety?”
“Everything about my life is odd now,” I retorted. “I’m riding a unicorn through a cursed forest while being hunted by a psychopath and the king’s men, on my way to kill a witch to free my three beast-mates from a hell dimension and hopefully, my father from the roses. The raven is honestly the least of my concerns.”
The unicorn snorted beneath me, almost as if agreeing. Or laughing. It was sometimes hard to tell with magical creatures.
Alain looked properly chastened for approximately thirty seconds before his curiosity got the better of him again.
“Where will you go?” he asked, his voice softer now, careful. “After this is over. If we succeed and the curse is broken, where would you go?”
The question hit differently than his others. Less academic, more personal. It was something I’d thought about during quiet moments in the castle, curled in beds that were too large without the warmth of my beasts beside me.
“Eldagh,” I said simply.
Alain nearly fell off his horse. “Eldagh? The territory beyond the southern mountains?”
“Yes.” I kept my eyes forward, not wanting to see the judgment in his.
“But Isabeau, that’s—” He stumbled over his words, clearly trying to find a diplomatic way to say what everyone knew. “That’s where outlaws go. Criminals. People running from justice.”
“People like me, you mean?” I finally looked at him, one eyebrow raised. “A witch fleeing execution?”
“You’re not a criminal,” he protested. “You’re innocent. Once I explain to my father—”
“Once you explain what? That magic can be good? That women with power aren’t automatically evil?” I laughed, the sound hollow even to my own ears. “Your father burns women for less than I’ve done, Alain. The law is very clear on what happens to witches.”
The unicorn seemed to sense my distress, its stride becoming smoother, almost gliding between the trees now. The raven had disappeared again, but I could feel it watching, as I sometimes felt the presence of my beasts through the claiming mark, distant but constant.
“I’m the son of the king,” Alain said, his jaw set stubbornly. “I have influence. I could change things.”
“You’re the second son,” I reminded him gently. “The spare. Your brother becomes king, not you. You can’t change laws written in blood over centuries.”
He flinched at my words, and I immediately regretted their harshness. But they were true, and we both knew it.
