Chapter 11 Nina
Nina
The sun set and Luna handed her hat to a servant for safekeeping as the full moon assumed its destined position between two stony pillars, bathing soft, silvery light upon the platform below.
A trumpet sounded soon after, signaling the imminent start of the protection ceremony.
Luna hurried and rejoined her parents in the stands.
Once most of the crowd had settled into their seats, a hush fell across the ceremony grounds. Drums began to play, not in a melodic manner as before, but rather in a steady rhythm of single notes, one beat following the last.
King Hendrix’s voice boomed from the balcony above, “Let’s begin!”
The crowd erupted in cheers.
Emily had yet to take her seat. In fact, she was nowhere to be seen. The prince’s seat was also conspicuously empty. Were they still resolving their little lover’s tiff?
Ghostly white horses pulled a black barred carriage over to the platform.
Its door swung open, and a figure cloaked in black stepped out.
Her hair, so blonde it was almost white, glowed under the moonlight.
Her silvery blue eyes darted through the stands as if searching for something—or someone—before her gaze settled on the king.
He nodded at Nina.
Inhaling deeply, she stepped forward, her eyes fluttering closed.
Suddenly, a blinding white light erupted from beneath her cloak, searing the eyes of the onlookers before abruptly extinguishing.
As the light faded, in the place of the cloaked figure stood a pearl-white unicorn.
Nina. She stood tall and proud; her chin tilted upward, conveying a quiet authority.
The broken horn atop her head, though marred, did nothing to diminish the regal bearing conveyed by her poised stance.
She moved onto the stony platform with a dignified grace, each step deliberate and fluid as if she were navigating through calm waters.
Beside her, a priest garbed in robes of deep cerulean—a hue sacred to his office—held a ceremonial bucket.
He sprinkled purified water with a flick of his wrist, scattering it across the polished stone like stardust. Where each droplet fell, ancient symbols etched into the stone eons ago revealed themselves.
The stars above seemed to shine down on Nina, kissing her horn, making it shimmer. But it was those silvery-blue eyes of hers that gave Luna pause. They held such sadness, defeat even, as if all the good she was doing meant nothing to her.
The drums grew louder, the beat vibrant in the air.
Dancers joined Nina, their faces painted with white markings. They fanned out across the platform, stomping their feet as they tossed white petals from their pockets. One of the dancers showered Nina with petals, which landed softly on her head, mane, back, and tail.
The music stopped, and the dancers retreated, leaving Nina by herself.
Her entire being emanated a light reminiscent of the moon itself, as if she were sculpted from its very essence.
She twirled her horn, sending sparks of glittering light streaming in her wake.
The stench of the magic filled the air, so potent that it hurt Luna’s nostrils, overwhelming her to the point of tears.
Instinctively, she covered her nose, mirroring the rest of the crowd.
The scattered petals burst into flames then; their light a brilliant blue. The heat was so intense it made the crowd recoil.
Nina began to speak and flames died. “Protect these people from those with violence in their souls.” She pawed the stone floor with her front hoof, the sharp scrape echoing faintly.
Ash from the petals began to float, swirling in the air as she continued, “Let this kingdom be hidden and forgotten from those souls. Burn the maps. Let their mind draw blanks when they think of us.” Nina lowered her head, her small horn touching the stone.
“For this blessing, I willingly sacrifice a piece of my power.”
The priest came to stand at Nina’s side, holding a sword in his hand. He lifted it into the air and a brief moment of complete and utter silence ensued before the blade came down, slicing off the tip of Nina’s already broken horn.
She screamed; the sound guttural. Barbaric and soul crushing. It echoed, ringing through the air.
Luna flinched, her heart leaping to her throat. No matter the safety this ceremony brought, Nina’s sacrifice was too painful to ask of someone again and again. Subconsciously, she rubbed her forehead where her own horn had been only a night ago.
The ashes from the floating petals shot upwards, meeting the sky with a crack of lightning. Ash rained down, drenching the ground with its magic.
Nina crumpled; her body shifted from unicorn to human as she collapsed. She lay limp like a doll, eyes wide open, staring directly through Luna.
The priest slipped out his robe and draped it over her, covering her nakedness.
King Hendrix clapped, bringing the crowd’s attention to him. “I thank you, Nina, for your sacrifice, as always. Now has come the time for us to celebrate! Let us feast! Let us dance! Let us rejoice with no fear of our enemies!”
On his command, servants began to pile food onto tables they’d set up minutes prior.
Luna’s stomach hollowed and her throat burned. Her very skin wanted to crawl away.
Angie said something to her, but Luna failed to hear her, her mind consumed with disgust. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from Nina, who still laid motionless.
The crowd dispersed, moving towards the tables set with food, but Luna stayed frozen in place.
Why wasn’t anyone helping Nina? It seemed she had been forgotten, her significance deemed complete with the ceremony’s conclusion.
How unfathomable that not one person in the kingdom cared about her.
They were all too busy gathering food and talking amongst themselves; even her own family had left to join the celebration.
Luna leaned forward, her head in her hands.
She knew the hatred for unicorns ran deep, but she didn’t realize it was so profound that they wouldn’t even care for a unicorn that was helping to protect them.
Nina had sacrificed a part of her horn for them, and they left her on the cold stone by herself, crying from pain, while they celebrated.
Luna pressed her fingertips into her face so hard that they indented her skin, the pain grounding her.
Nina had been discarded as if she was just a napkin that had been used and discarded, ruined.
It wasn’t right. Luna stood to go to her, to at least help the woman to stand, but Clyde grabbed her arm, stopping her in her tracks.
“I don’t think so,” he said, glaring at Nina, his hand resting on the hilt of the sword. Did he truly believe she posed a threat? The woman was a mess of tears and pain, barely able to lift her own head, let alone challenge a trained guard.
“Clyde, show some humanity,” Luna implored. “She’s sacrificed part of herself for us. We should do something to help her.”
“That someone isn’t you.”
“Why not?”
“It’s beneath you to have anything to do with their kind,” he retorted sharply.
A chill tiptoed up her spine. What would he think if he knew she, too, was a unicorn?
Would he leave her crying, alone and in pain like Nina?
Even though it wasn’t happening to her, betrayal clouded Luna’s vision, and she wrenched her arm out of his grasp.
“You’re beneath me,” she hissed, attempting to storm away, but he grabbed her again, spinning her around to face him.
His dark eyes searched hers, a flicker of something softer passing briefly before his expression hardened. “You don’t mean that,” he insisted, his voice low, laced with an unmistakable threat. His grip tightened painfully on her arm as if he thought he could keep her if only he held on.
“I think the lady made her stance pretty clear,” a familiar, deep baritone voice said.
Luna’s heart stopped beating.
The man she had tried to kiss, the man who had seen her in her most vulnerable form, was here now, standing beside her.
Cockiness flowed from Damien like a river flows downstream, and with a sly grin on his face, he slowly looked Clyde up and down, before laughing—the sound deep, mocking. “She could do so much better than you.”
How did he know they were together? No one knew that . . . Well, except for Emily, but she was still nowhere to be seen.
Struggling to find words, Luna swallowed dryly. She didn’t think she’d see Damien again, and having decided she didn’t want anything to do with magic, she didn’t know what to do or say.
She clenched and unclenched her hands, nervous energy bubbling up inside her.
Would Damien knock Clyde out again? Or worse, would Clyde recognize Damien as the intruder?
If he did, would Damien spill her secret?
Her palms grew slick with sweat, and she rubbed her hands against her dress, praying to the skies above she’d get through this.
Clyde turned to Damien with a raised brow, his hand still on his sword’s hilt. “Careful what you say, peasant, or I’ll cut your tongue out.”
Apparently, the skies were not in an answering prayers sort of mood.
“You will do no such thing.” With a stride forward, she stepped around Clyde, her movements deliberate, assertive, as she closed the gap between Damien and herself. “I apologize for my guard’s manners,” she said, her voice steady despite the tension. “He was just trying to do his job.”
“No need to apologize for some disgraceful human,” Damien countered, a subtle edge in his tone. He leaned in and he whispered, “If he becomes bothersome, I can always help him take another nap.”