55. Baby Unicorns
BABY UNICORNS
DAWN
Nearly every folklore tradition from before the crossing describes the peaceful mythic beasts of the Lost Continent, but they’ve never been seen. There are reports of ghosts and figments, dryads and sea serpents, but never a unicorn.
Water came out black at first. The tap spat, shuddered, and clicked. The spray turned gray before it finally ran clear. Dawn hissed when it bit her skin. Ice cold. No hum from the pipes, no hint of heat. The citadel’s plumbing ran on gravity and meltwater now.
“Fuck,” she muttered, rubbing her cold-stung fingers together. “We had to blow up the power grid.”
She stepped into the shower, and the icy water burned clean and honest. Not unwelcome after days of blood and illusions. They’d chosen rooms at random after the ordeal in the throne room, but the beds were moldering and she’d slept on the floor.
She wandered naked through the halls until she found Ehrue’s rooms. She didn’t take much. An old locket. A knife. A pair of dragonscale pants and matching vest, close enough to her size. What had happened to that fancy hat back in Haven? Damn shame she couldn’t keep it.
The halls were dark, just whatever light filtered through the arched windows. Every footstep echoed too loud. Her shadow jumped between pools of moonlight on the inner wall.
She didn’t pay attention to where she was going, but when she reached the cage-filled hall, she stopped. The space was vast and silent. A single feather lay on the floor, as long as her arm. This is where the elein had been kept, but they were long since gone.
A side door hung open. She was surprised when she stepped through and found herself in an outdoor garden. A slope fell away, and mist rose from a grassy field below. Her breath fogged in the air. Then, down among the broken statues and wild hedges, something moved. A bulky shape. Many of them.
Dawn dropped to a crouch. Her mind cycled through possible threats. Fluxborn? Elanwei’s missing followers? She felt for her revolvers and cursed. She hadn’t strapped on her holsters. She’d have to fight this out by hand.
The shapes were pale in the mist. Moving slowly. Not prowling. Not hunting. What the hell? Then one lifted its head, and moonlight caught on a spiral horn.
Unicorns. A whole herd of them. No hint of flux corruption. They were perfectly peaceful. Free. She went still, heart hammering. One of the creatures approached. When it got to her, it lowered its head and pressed its muzzle to her palm. The velvet softness undid her.
Her legs buckled, dropping her in the grass. Sobs tore through her body for the second time in two days, and she rocked forward on her knees. She didn’t hear Talia until she spoke.
“Hey.” Talia placed a hand on Dawn’s shoulder. “How can I help?”
Dawn felt a surge of support and love; emotions pushed straight into her chest. She knew Talia had been practicing projection, but she’d never felt her affinity so directly. It felt…nice.
She focused on breathing, in and out, until her hands stopped shaking.
“I don’t know.” Dawn’s voice cracked, and she paused, collecting herself. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m for now. I’ve been killing for so long. Every fluxborn I found. Told myself I was doing it for her.”
She waved her hand at the herd of glittering creatures. One of them skittered away and snorted, but the rest ignored her.
“But what if I was wrong? They didn’t kill her. What if they weren’t all—”
She couldn’t finish.
“You couldn’t know,” Talia said quietly.
“Doesn’t matter.” Dawn’s throat burned. “I didn’t ask. I just killed them.”
She tugged at the necklace. Hundreds of teeth.
Some of them, she knew now, weren’t fluxborn at all.
For the first time it felt heavy. Her fist clenched and the sharp edges bit into her hand, but she wasn’t going to take it off.
She didn’t deserve to. The unicorn pressed closer, warm breath on her hands. Trusting her. After everything.
“I just assumed they were all monsters.” She looked up at Talia, eyes raw. “What if I’m the monster?”
Talia didn’t answer right away.
“You might be,” she said finally. “But aren’t we all a little bit monstrous?”
“You used to be more optimistic.”
“I’ve had some bad influences.” Talia squeezed her shoulder. “Plus, you’d just say something mean if I tried to comfort you.”
Dawn let out a broken laugh and dragged a sleeve across her face. “Gods, this is pathetic. Ignore me.”
“Dawn. I can literally feel your heartbeat in my chest.”
“It’s kind of gross, when you think about it,” Dawn said.
“I think you love it,” Talia answered with a laugh. Dawn didn’t look at her face.
She chuckled and wiped her nose. “So, no secrets?”
“Not possible,” Talia agreed.
Dawn laughed weakly and smiled in spite of herself. They sat and watched the mythic creatures in silence. Talia was a steady comfort at her shoulder.
The herd shifted, ghostly in the fog. Two young ones pushed through, gangly and fearless. One came right up and shoved its nose against Dawn’s knee. Its warm breath made her eyes sting all over again.
She pressed her face into its velvety mane. “I’m sorry,” she whispered—to the elein, to the city, to herself.
The foal nuzzled her cheek. When she finally stood, the ache in her chest was smaller. Still there, but less so. The mist was thinning. Firstlight was glinting over the eastern wall.
It hurt like hell. Ehrue was gone. Dawn had grieved her once, but this hit worse—the comedown from hoping, only to lose her again for good. But she’d seen her mate one last time. That was a gift.
Dawn had one thing left to do for Ehrue. Then she could figure out the rest.