A few months ago, he would’ve said let them. But as much as it galled him, when his people had been most in need, it had been the humans who’d lent a hand. And his sister-in-law, Alessandra, wasn’t so bad. “Why aren’t the humans handling it?”
Mati’s mouth tightened to a grim line. “They don’t know who’s in charge. And they must not know.”
Then information didn’t flow so freely in this new alliance.
“The dark unicorn is Gwydion’s responsibility, so he must be made aware. Arabella’s sire will likely be among his herd. You will take her there.”
He nodded. If that’s what Nozva Rozkveta needed, then he’d see it done. With Gwydion’s help, these malcontents would be disbanded. Unicorns possessed the rare ability to induce calm, even among a bloodthirsty army of beasts and rebels… if the unicorns could be persuaded to enter a conflict. Something Mati was tasking him with.
Once he finished this mission, he’d return home and take his rightful place as a kuvar. Things would finally be as they always should have been.
Mati cleared her throat. “Whatever Gwydion wants in order to forge the alliance, give it to him. He’ll have heirs who take elven or human forms. Seal it with an Offering between you and one of his line.”
“What! Why?” he blurted. Darkness, she would sacrifice him to a political marriage as she had Veron. Deep, Darkness, and Holy Ulsinael, of all the—
“Because the leader of this rebellion is our responsibility, and he must be stopped before the humans discover he’s a dark-elf. And he will be stopped, with Gwydion’s help.”
His head spun. “The dark-elf rebel leader… Who—?”
Mati turned to him, facing him squarely. “Dakkar of Dun Mozg.”
Chapter 2
Following the squad of dark-elves, Bella trudged through the marshland alongside Noc, their hooves splashing in the fetid waters. Led by Prince Dhuro, they’d been proceeding in the daylight under dense tree cover, but the bareness of the marshes meant journeying by dark, such as tonight, to the unicorn herd.
The dark-elves traveled almost exclusively via their tunnels. It was strange that they weren’t doing so now, but no one had thought to tell her anything other than it was time to go. Still, she’d find out one way or another. It had been over four months since she’d seen Mamma. The past weeks she’d spent among the dark-elves after their battle with the Brotherhood, they hadn’t exactly been forthcoming, but she hadn’t expected them to. Her brother had wanted a genocide. Although she’d been freed and had tried to stop it, she was still sister to the man who’d wanted to destroy them all.
The dark-elves had rightfully demanded Silen exile him. A fighter for as long as she could remember, Tarquin nevertheless had gone quietly into exile. Tender and caring with her, however, he had spent his entire life trying to protect her, looking out for her, and if anyone had told her he’d spend months letting a creature be tortured by his men, even not knowing it had been her in another form, she never would have believed it. Not until three and a half months ago.
When the mercenary irregulars of the Belmonte Company had taken it upon themselves to capture a unicorn, Tarquin had let them, not knowing his missing sister had been trapped in the poor creature. For so long, so many had been killed in the name of his mission to find her while his men had tormented her, not recognizing her in unicorn form. The pixie Witam had come to her aid, and they’d hurt him, likely killed him, without a second thought. Countless senseless killings, all for her sake, and it had taken everything she’d had to Change the night of the battle with Nozva Rozkveta, just to try to stop it.
Once he’d learned the truth of her identity, after Princess Alessandra had freed her, Tarquin’s warmth hadn’t reappeared. He’d castigated himself, punished himself, retreated into himself, and she hadn’t known how to communicate telepathically yet.
Now he was gone—who knew where—and she might never have the chance to tell him that she loved him, that she forgave him, and that he could rise above what he’d been if he only wanted to.
Still, she couldn’t even hope to look for him until she picked up the pieces of her shattered life and herself. After the months of torture she’d suffered, burning beneath a net of arcanir, beaten by the soldiers, the dark-elves’ quiet hospitality had been the breath of life. They’d given her a place to heal, a place to forget, and now a chance at regaining her true form and returning to her normal life. For that, she would be eternally grateful.
Noc flicked his tail next to her, shaking off the brackish water, and neighed.
I’m sorry, Noc, she said to him telepathically. His friendship was yet another thing meriting her eternal gratitude. He’d been a good listener, a nurturing friend, and a partner in crime when she’d most needed someone, and she only hoped to someday repay a fraction of that compassion. I’m glad for your company, but you really didn’t have to come along.
He eyed her incredulously, shifting his forelock as he bobbed his head. My glamour might prove useful.
True enough. In case of danger, fey horses could cast illusions that might help them. Noc had called them parlor tricks, but he was modest.
Besides, as a newly turned unicorn, you’re little more than a child. You still have a lot to learn, and even if you didn’t, I’m not about to leave you in Dhuro’s hands.
What’s wrong with Prince Dhuro’s hands? she joked.
A laugh echoed in her head.
You’re being facetious, she chided.
You catch on quickly, youngling. Noc nudged her gently. As I said, you have much to learn, and Dhuro can be indelicate.
Hmph. She could handle indelicate. But she couldn’t argue with Noc's assessment of the prince.
She raised her head and looked to the front of their cavalcade, where a tall, hulking dark-elf led them, his every booted step a vexed assault upon the earth. As he raked clawed fingers through his shoulder-length white hair, his slate-blue skin—a shade or two darker than his brother’s—fell into dusky relief against the night sky.
Dhuro, one of the princes of Nightbloom—Nozva Rozkveta. One of the dark-elves’ hunters, he’d been absent from the subterranean queendom more often than present. The times she had seen him, he’d been training with the queen’s guards or his brother, whenever Prince Veron wasn’t working on the new library building project with his wife. Although Queen Zara’s people appeared very industrious, Prince Dhuro pushed himself. A lot.
Still, she could imagine rabid bears less grumpy than said fair prince. She’d seen him brooding and stomping around, always beneath a black cloud, full of thunder. With a sweet personality like that, his fangs and claws really had to be purely ornamental.
Prince Dhuro glanced back over his shoulder.
She ducked her head. Gods above, had she said that to him telepathically? Noc had been teaching her, but she still didn’t have a solid grasp of it.
Afraid he saw you? Noc teased.
Her heart beat faster, but she ignored it and pushed the bravado. I’m rather hard to miss in this form, aren’t I?
Noc whinnied and tossed his head, his laugh echoing in her skull.
Prince Dhuro was undeniably handsome and everything she couldn’t stand, which meant he was perfect for her. Ever since Cosimo had been killed, she’d kept her entanglements light, with lovers she could walk away from unscathed. And someone like this bitter prince, so bitter she could never love him, was completely her type.