Chapter 57
fifty-seven
Isabeau
The unicorn’s stride beneath me flowed like liquid silver, each step impossibly light compared to any horse I’d ever ridden.
The creature’s magic hummed against my thighs, a gentle vibration that seemed to resonate with the amber stone still warm in my pocket.
Beside me, Alain’s mare struggled to keep pace, her hooves cracking against fallen branches where my unicorn’s steps made no sound at all.
And just like those contrasting gaits, Alain’s voice broke the forest’s peaceful whispers with yet another question. His hundredth since dawn, each one chipping away at what little patience I had left.
“But you must have some idea where the magic comes from,” he persisted, ducking beneath a low-hanging branch. “Was your mother a witch? Your grandmother? Is it hereditary or—”
“For the love of the gods, Alain.” I closed my eyes briefly, willing myself not to snap at him.
The man had saved my life, after all. Had ridden through the night to warn me about the hunters.
Had finally believed me when no one else would.
But his endless questions were making my head throb.
“I’ve told you three times already. I don’t know. ”
He had the decency to look slightly abashed, running a hand through his dark hair that was becoming increasingly disheveled as we traveled.
It made him too handsome, and I felt the odd flutter in my core when his icy eyes met mine.
The prince was adapting to forest travel about as well as a cat to water.
Which is to say, with stubborn dignity and obvious discomfort.
Even for a strong rider, this forest wasn’t made for humans, and I was learning I wasn’t all the way human.
“I’m only trying to understand,” he said, gentler now.
The morning light filtering through the canopy caught in his blue eyes, making them seem almost translucent.
“If we’re going to face a sorceress powerful enough to twist an entire forest and curse three princes, shouldn’t we know what we’re working with? ”
It was logical. Frustratingly so. But logic didn’t create answers where there were none.
“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 Enid once 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.
“So you’ll go to Eldagh,” he said finally. “Live among thieves and murderers because it’s better than living under Durand’s laws?”
“I’ll go to Eldagh,” I corrected, “because it’s the one territory where a woman without family can own property and work. Where magic isn’t punishable by death. Where I might, gods willing, build some kind of life for myself.”
And perhaps for my beasts, if they still wanted me after the curse was broken, and if they weren’t needed at their castle.
Oh, that bothered my heart. The thought sent a fresh wave of anxiety through me, mixing with the worry of their survival through all this.
The unicorn responded to with a soft whicker of reassurance, promising me that whatever aid it could offer, it would.
“But you’d be alone.” Alain’s words were barely above a whisper. “Without protection.”
I stared at him, incredulity momentarily replacing my irritation. “Protection? Like Gaspard’s? Or the tower room with doubled guards? That kind of protection?”
“That’s not fair,” he protested. “I admitted I was wrong to—”
“Life isn’t fair,” I cut him off. “Especially not for women. Especially not for women with actual power. So yes, I’ll take my chances with Eldagh’s thieves over Durand’s justice any day.”
Alain opened his mouth, clearly ready to argue further, and something inside me snapped. I was tired. Bone-deep, soul-wearingly tired of explaining myself, of justifying my existence, of tolerating men who thought they knew better than I did about my own life.
I just wish a wind would carry him away for a while, I thought with intense frustration, not directing the thought at anything or anyone in particular. Just give me five blessed minutes of silence.
The forest responded.
One moment, Alain was riding beside me, his face a storm of conflicted emotions.
The next, a small whirlwind no wider than a man’s outstretched arms, formed directly beneath his horse.
The mare whinnied in alarm but stayed rooted to the spot as the swirling air lifted Alain clean off her back.
He yelped, arms windmilling comically as the whirlwind carried him upward, depositing him rather unceremoniously on a thick branch about fifteen feet above the forest floor.
“Isabeau!” he called down, his voice somewhere between accusation and question, fingers clutching the branch with white-knuckled intensity. “What in the seven hells just happened?”
My hands flew to my mouth, horror and amusement battling for dominance. “I—I didn’t mean to,” I managed, though that wasn’t entirely true. I had wished for it, just not consciously directed my magic to make it happen. “I’m sorry!”
The unicorn beneath me made a strange huffing sound that I could have sworn was laughter. Its sides shook slightly, and its head dipped in what looked suspiciously like mirth.
“Are you laughing?” I whispered to it, too quietly for Alain to hear.
It tossed its glorious mane in what could only be interpreted as affirmation.
“Isabeau!” Alain called again, more urgent this time. “Get me down from here!”
I closed my eyes, trying to center myself.
The forest’s magic thrummed all around me, more responsive than ever before.
I had forgotten how sensitive it was to my emotions, to my desires now that it had fully awakened.
The claiming mark on my shoulder pulsed warmly, as if my beasts were somehow aware of what had just happened.
“Tree,” I said hesitantly, feeling a little foolish for talking to a plant but not knowing what else to try. “Please bring him down. Gently.”
For a terrifying moment, nothing happened. Then the branch Alain sat on began to lower, bending against nature until it deposited him safely on the ground beside his mare, which had watched the proceedings with remarkable calm for a normal horse.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, sliding off the unicorn to stand before him. “I didn’t mean to do that. I just—I was frustrated, and I thought about how nice it would be if a wind carried you away for a bit, and the forest just... responded.”
Alain brushed leaves and bark from his clothes, his expression unreadable. “You mean to tell me,” he said slowly, “that you accidentally conjured a whirlwind because you wanted me to stop talking?”
Put that way, it did sound rather extreme. “I don’t have complete control yet,” I admitted. “The magic seems to flow directly from thought to action sometimes, without my conscious direction.”
“You thought about me being carried away.” His voice was flat.
“Just for a little while,” I said weakly. “For some peace and quiet.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched. For a moment, I thought he might be truly angry. And who could blame him? I’d just magically tossed the son of the king into a tree because I found his questions annoying.
But then the corner of his mouth quirked up. “Next time,” he said, “you could just tell me to shut up.”
The tension broke. A laugh bubbled up from somewhere deep inside me, unexpected and genuine. “Would you have listened?”
“Probably not,” he admitted, his own laugh joining mine. “I’ve been told I’m rather persistent.”
“Stubborn as a mule, more like.” I smiled, relief washing through me that he wasn’t furious.
“Says the woman who rode into the Forbidden Forest on a unicorn to hunt a witch.” He shook his head, still chuckling. “I suppose I deserved that aerial tour of the treetops.”
“You did,” I agreed, some of the weight lifting from my shoulders. “But I am sorry. I’m still learning how the magic works, especially here in the forest where everything seems... amplified.”
Alain nodded, sobering slightly as he mounted his mare again. “I promised to help you, not interrogate you. I’ll try to remember that.” He paused, then added with a small smile, “At least until we’re out of range of convenient trees.”
I laughed again, returning to the unicorn and swinging myself onto its back. The creature seemed pleased with the outcome, prancing in place for a moment before resuming its graceful stride. The raven cawed once overhead, as if urging us to continue our journey.
“Truce?” Alain asked, extending a hand across the space between our mounts.
I reached out, clasping his fingers briefly. “Truce. Just remember—”
“Fewer questions,” he finished for me. “I understand.”
We rode on, the forest quieter around us now, as if satisfied that harmony had been restored. The claiming mark on my shoulder pulsed gently, reminding me of what waited ahead.
But for now, riding beside a prince who had somehow become an ally rather than a captor, I allowed myself to hope. That maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t as alone in this fight as I had thought.
Even if I did occasionally need to toss him into a tree to get some peace and quiet or bat him with a branch to knock some sense into him.