Chapter Thirty Seven #2
Malachi adjusts behind us, the faint hum of Excalibur threading through the quiet like a warning. Nash slows his horse by a fraction, controlling the speed of the group while they assess for threats and where they might be coming from.
Sir Sweeps-A-Lot, for once in his chaotic little existence, pauses mid-spin. His bristles quiver as if he senses impending doom.
“Well,” I utter, glancing around at the meadow we’ve wandered into, “this feels like the sort of place where people die in very poetic ways and then become cautionary tales.”
“We’re not dying,” Hart mutters.
“Great,” I reply. “Have you told that to whatever is watching us from around the meadow?”
“What do you—”
“I see it,” Nash interrupts. “Correction—I see them.”
Theo’s arm tightens around me as the meadow rustles, bringing with it the scent of wildflowers at dusk.
A white horse steps through, delicate and powerful at the same time. For one glorious, idiotic heartbeat, I think, oh, pretty. Then it lowers its head, and its horn catches the fractured light.
Not delicate. Not decorative. Sharp. Glowing. Lethal in a way that makes it very clear this is not a creature built for admiration but for consequence.
Another steps out, and then another, surrounding us in a tightening net. A herd of stunning unicorns, wronged in so many ways by the Hallows. Their bright, intelligent eyes watch us as they form a slow, deliberate circle around us. Their horns dip in warning, looking sharp enough to maim.
“For the record,” I say, lifting my hands because it feels appropriate when faced with a herd of armed sparkle creatures, “I would like to formally state that I have always supported unicorn rights. Before we even knew what it was, a female with a grudge attacked us and made us wear it. I would never willingly do so. I hope you can forgive a pair of clueless maidens trying to make things right.”
One of them snorts, and I take that as a no. Nash’s horse shifts restlessly beneath him. Hart angles his body as though he’s already mapping out exits that do not exist, and Malachi’s hand hovers near the sword without drawing it, coiled and waiting.
Genie squints at them. “I’ve never seen such a large herd. They are almost extinct on account of misuse of their, well, you know.”
Hooves stomp in outrage.
Gwyneth tilts her head, studying them with that calm, terrifying focus of hers. “Don’t,” she murmurs as Malachi’s fingers tighten.
One unicorn steps forward, larger than the rest, its mane shifting like liquid silver as it fixes us with a knowing stare that digs into the core of my soul and assesses it. I suddenly become very aware of every poor choice I have ever made, which is unfortunate because there are many.
“Right,” I say into the silence, because I have never once improved a situation by staying quiet. “If this is about the speech, in my defense, I’m dealing with revolting Idols and an actively protesting floof.”
The unicorn blinks. I blink back. Then, without warning, it turns and walks away. The rest move with it, not loosening the circle but tightening it in a different way, guiding rather than threatening, pressing us into motion with careful, insistent steps.
Herding.
“I don’t think I like this,” I mutter as one nudges the side of our horse with enough force to make its intention clear.
“We’re being moved,” Nash says.
“I had gathered from the aggressive encouragement,” I reply. “What do we do?”
Theo leans closer. “We go with them or we fight our way out.”
“I vote to go with,” I say. “Because arguing with weaponized glitter feels like a poor life choice.” Another nudge follows, sharper this time, and I sigh. “Fine. Lead the way, sparkly overlords.”
Sir Sweeps-A-Lot drifts closer to my side, bristles puffed like he’s preparing for battle.
“Don’t,” I whisper. “You will lose.” He pauses before lowering himself. Smart broom.
We fall into line. Not by choice but by design, surrounded on all sides by creatures that move with a single, seamless intent. I glance at Gwyneth, who meets my gaze with something unreadable flickering in her eyes.
“Well, sister, this is new.”
“Yes,” she replies.
“On a scale of one to disaster?”
She considers it for a moment. “Undetermined.”
I nod, lifting my chin as we’re escorted deeper into whatever this is. “Excellent. My favorite kind.”
The horses don’t seem too bothered. They must be close descendants, right? Like unicorn adjacent? Wait. Does that mean unicorns also eat faces? I eyeball one as it drifts close enough to touch. I tilt, knowing Theo will hold me. He does, and my fingers brush over the velvet fur.
The unicorn turns to glare at me. “Rude,” it snaps. “You didn’t even ask before you laid your hands on my body.”
My cheeks heat. “I do apologize. You’re right. Unauthorized, unwelcome touching is a crime.”
“It should be,” it snaps.
The way its lips move and teeth snap makes all my previous hangups about the nature of horses come back with reinforcements.
They don’t take us far, which my floof is thankful for.
“I’m going to need you to let up on the floof thoughts unless you have fantasies about being taken in a circle of unicorns,” Theo says.
“You know, it didn’t make it into my top ten.”
“I’ll be very, very interested to learn what did.”
“I won’t be,” Charming grumbles. Ugh, he’s still here? Didn’t the unicorns make a meal out of him yet?
The trees part into a clearing that looks untouched by the rest of the world.
No broken branches. No tracks. No sign that anything violent has ever dared to occur here.
The grass grows softer beneath the horses’ hooves, thick like a bed of moss, and the light filters down in a way that makes everything glow.
It would be peaceful if not for us being escorted by a heavily horned herd of magical creatures with opinions on touching policies.
“Good news,” I murmur, taking in the space as more unicorns emerge from the edges, not aggressive but present. Watching. Waiting. “This feels less like an execution and more like a holding cell with better lighting.”
“Stay alert,” Nash says quietly.
“I am always alert,” I reply. “I simply choose to express it through chaos.”
“That is not helpful.”
“It keeps me sane.”
He snorts. “Debatable.”
The larger unicorn steps forward again, positioning itself at the center of the clearing. The rest fan out behind it, forming an intentional barrier between us and the path we came from. I don’t think we’re leaving unless they say so.
“What now?” I whisper. The staring creeps me out. It’s worse because I know at least one of them can talk.
“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?”