Arabella, come—
She ran.
Past the grove of chestnut trees and far into the range of the northern Sileni hills, Bella scrambled home, the cold air stinging her teary eyes. This wasn’t happening. It was some spell of the unicorn, some illusion, or… or she was still in that dream. It had to be. Merciful gods and empyreal Veil threads, it had to.
Once she was with her brothers and Mamma, it would all break. She’d be reminded of the real world, and rooted in it, whatever spell or dream this was, it would end. Unicorns in myths had dazzling powers of the mind. If she believed those tales—and considering she’d just seen a unicorn in the flesh—maybe a trick of the mind was all it was.
Just over the hill, the olive orchards stretched before the Belmonte castello and its city of Roccalano. She bolted among the thin young trees for the open gates of the city. The staccato of hooves against the cobblestone invaded her ears, beat further and deeper. No, it was a dream. The sound was unreal, just as it all had been.
The few citizens outside in the hour before dawn gasped and gaped, jumping out of her way, unlike their usual smiles and warm greetings. Every gape tore at the dream, challenged its fiber. Maybe it’s not a dream. She shook her head and ran faster toward the castello gates.
Shouts rang out among the guards, but she made it through and into the courtyard bearing Cosimo’s sculpture. She charged straight for the nearest door, paying no heed to the chaos building in her wake.
She reached up to knock, but hooves hit the mahogany wood, sending splinters flying.
Mamma! Tarquin! Luciano!
Try as she might, no voice sounded when she called. Please, someone! Anyone, hear me!
She hit the door again and again, and if the gods could but spare her a mercy, Mamma or one of her brothers would hear.
A bellowed order—Captain Sondrio and a squad of guards closed in on her with polearms. A stormy scent dominated the air.
Captain, it’s me! Please!
But the squad only advanced, and she leaped away from the sage-green arcanir blade tips and their magic-nullifying metal. Pottery shattered and flowers crunched beneath her as she scrambled past a window. The shutters hung open, and inside, Tarquin stared back at her, his reddish-brown eyes wide.
Tarquin, she breathed, her heart soaring. Her big brother, her hero, the one who’d always bandaged her skinned knees and wiped away her frustrated tears. He would see her, dispel whatever this was, set everything right. Help me!
His hand reached for a sword that wasn’t at his hip, not this early in the morning at home.
She tapped the glass, but it shattered, sending jagged remnants flying like daggers.
“Is it Bella?” Mamma’s frantic voice called from deeper within the house. Light footsteps pattered nearer, quiet but audible on the thick-pile heirloom rugs.
Darkness passed over Tarquin’s face as he shook his head. “Mamma, stay back,” he called over his shoulder. “It’s one of the Immortali beasts.”
Beast…? Mamma! Tarquin, it’s me! Couldn’t they see through this illusion, or whatever it was?
Mamma stood beside Tarquin, scowling as she clenched a fist. Her reddened eyes teared up nonetheless, a grim match for the dark circles shadowing Tarquin’s gaze.
A stab of white-hot pain seared Bella’s side.
She staggered backward, avoiding the points of stabbing polearms. One of the guards lunged toward her, but Captain Sondrio held out a hand to stop him.
Her stomach clenched. They would—they would kill her.
“Captain!” Tarquin’s voice boomed. “To bows! Someone get me a blade and get that beast out of here!”
That beast. That beast. This wasn’t an illusion or some trick of the mind? She was truly a unicorn after all?
How could this happen? Why?
But as her heart slowed, every hair of her mane stood on end. It was true. Gods above, it was true.
If this was a dream, shouldn’t she have awoken by now?
Arcanir. If this had been some spell, the arcanir blade of the polearm would’ve broken it. Arcanir cut magic, but there had been no illusion to cut.
Below her were still hooves.
Shuddering, she retreated, eyeing the guards, the smashed pottery, the shattered window, and the shards of glass. Fragments of an equine reflection stared back at her. Broken. Everything was broken.
An arrow clanged onto the cobbles just before her. Reinforcements.
She spun, faced with blades at every turn except the exit, and with a wound stinging her side, she bolted for it, back down the streets of Roccalano, weeping.
Whatever the unicorn had done to her, it wasn’t some dream or spell that could be easily reversed.
They had always been described as pacifistic beings, ambassadors of peace, so why had this happened? Why had he done this to her? And if everything that had happened was real, then he’d made it clear she’d have nothing to return to.
But he was wrong. As she ran among the olive trees she’d helped tend all her life, the chill air stole away her tears.
She didn’t always see eye to eye with her family, but she loved them and they loved her. She’d find a way to get through to them, to make them see it was still her in this body. They would look past the physical and find her in dire need of their help. Together, they’d uncover the answer to all of this, and fix her. She’d find a way to reverse this Change, return to her true form and her normal life.
She’d just have to keep trying… and pray Tarquin wouldn’t order the guards to attack with lethal force.
Again and again, Bella returned to the castello, at all hours of the day and night. Her family had to know she was missing, but nothing in the myths had suggested humans could change into unicorns. Still, trying to get through to them was the only option she had.
In the short gaps of time she had before the guards charged in, she made a habit of interacting with things they would associate with her—nosing the courtyard bench where she’d often done her reading, pawing the soil of her small vegetable garden, nudging the unicorn statue Cosimo had sculpted for her, even tapping the windows beneath her chambers. Sparkles among the plants of her garden witnessed her futile attempts—pixies who’d recently moved in—but she couldn’t stop now.
Something would inspire the epiphany she needed them to have. It had to.
On her third visit, she stabbed the tip of her horn at a lock, wishing it open, astonished to find her wish came true. Success! It was the heartening sign she’d needed to keep her going. She willed doors open and windows, and arrows not to hit her. That much worked, if not any wish that she be heard or seen as her true self. But she’d go to her chambers, knock over her favorite things. If she just gave her family enough clues, they’d understand it was her.
Tonight, nearly two weeks after her first visit, she willed away a part of the stone fortifications surrounding the castello and walked right through. Once again, she headed for the windows beneath her chambers, hooves clopping softly on the courtyard’s cobbles.
All she wanted was for someone to see the real Bella, just one person, and help her become herself again. One. Just one.
No footsteps or shouts sounded yet; maybe the guards hadn’t heard her, and she had more time?
She ripped white lilies from the garden and arranged them on the flagstones to spell her name.