A Charm for a Unicorn (13 page)

"Why are you here?” The words sounded in his mind. Her voice. Leonie's voice. The unicorn only stared at him with eyes as deep as the ocean.

"I came to tell you a story.” Sylvain found his voice. “May I sit here?"

The unicorn inclined her head, light running up and down her horn like quicksilver.

Sylvain settled on the moss. Beside him, his horses fell to grazing. “Once upon a time, there was a fair maiden."

"All stories start out so,” said the unicorn. She tossed her head. “Fair maidens are as common as stars in the sky. I am bored already."

"Bear with me. There is nothing ordinary about this woman. One day, she looked into a forbidden crystal ball and saw a handsome prince. By chance, the two met that very same day and fell in love. But they could not be happy together, for an evil wizard claimed the maiden as his own. The wizard sent the prince whirling into a faraway land, and took the maiden to his castle. But the maiden somehow escaped."

"I think know how that happened.” The unicorn lay down by Sylvain's side and rested her muzzle on a patch of violets. She blew on them softly, and they all bloomed at once, releasing a delicious fragrance into the air.

"But you don't know what happened to the prince."

"What was his name again?” The unicorn pricked her ears, and a faint spark appeared in her unearthly eyes.

"Renaldo,” said Sylvain gently.

"Renaldo. That's right. I remember now. I've been caught in this dream for so long I've nearly forgotten what I was before. Your story reminded me. And what happened to him?” The unicorn's voice was mournful now.

"I don't know.” Sylvain plucked at the moss. “He was in love with the fair maiden, you see, and they were separated by an evil magician. The prince has disappeared."

"That is a sad story."

"It's not over yet."

"What happens next?"

"I don't know. Several things could happen. We're at the point of the story where anything can happen. The fair maiden can choose to stay in her forest glen. The handsome prince may be found. The wizard too has possibilities. He has managed to bring about a fragile peace in the land—the first for many years. The reason for this unexpected truce is his upcoming wedding."

"I thought that the maiden fled?"

"She has. But a young horse trader has gone to fetch her back."

The unicorn nodded. “A young prince, you mean. I recognize you now. You are Renaldo's brother, and you came to dine one evening at the magician's castle."

"That was part of the story, yes."

"We are at the crux of the matter, are we not? I wonder how it will all end.” The unicorn raised her head and looked past him, over his shoulder. In her eyes, Sylvain saw the reflections of mountains and forests. He knew it wasn't real. He thought perhaps it was the reflection of the unicorn's longing.

He wanted to touch her, to comfort her, but he didn't dare put his hand on her immaculate coat. He felt as if he would sully her; that he would see his touch like a bruise on a white blossom. “There is more than one possible ending for every story,” he said after a while.

She nodded again. “The sad ending and the happy one. And right now, there is only one character who can choose the ending. The fair maiden."

"She isn't your ordinary fairy-tale heroine,” said Sylvain. “She fell in love, but she chose to be free."

"If you're talking about me, I haven't decided anything yet."

"But you are happy the way you are."

"No."

The answer surprised him. “Then why stay here by yourself? I don't understand."

She looked at him then, and said, “I'm not sure I understand either.” The unicorn blinked, and a tear slid down her cheek and fell. “See? It's just a tear. It holds no magic. Unicorns cry magical tears; everyone knows that. I know I'm not a real unicorn. But I'm not a real princess either. I'm the magician's daughter, and one day I fell in love with a handsome prince."

"What's the matter with that story?” Sylvain asked.

"If we marry, I'll have to live in his world, and I'm not sure I can do that. I don't know how to answer questions or make important decisions. I can't decide anything. Luckily I don't have that many clothes to choose from, otherwise I'd never get dressed in the morning."

"You could learn."

"You saw what happened when Sir Wulfe asked me a simple question.” The unicorn sighed, and a honeysuckle vine sprang up and curled around the base of the tree, white flowers popping out like surprised stars from beneath glossy green leaves.

"Would you abandon your father and sister?” Sylvain asked, plucking a honeysuckle blossom.

"No, of course not.” The unicorn tilted her head. “Did you know that your father was once in love with my mother?"

Sylvain frowned. This wasn't part of the story he was weaving. “It's common knowledge. My father speaks fondly of your mother."

"Perhaps too fondly."

"Now you speak in riddles.” He nibbled at the base of the honeysuckle blossom, sucking at the sweet nectar. It was like a taste of those summer days he'd spent as a carefree child.

The unicorn snorted, breaking his reverie. “What did your mother say when she learned Renaldo had fallen in love with me?"

"She wasn't pleased,” said Sylvain slowly. “He was to have wed a princess of Bromley as part of a peace treaty. My mother is from Bromley and this stung her pride. Surely that's a good reason to be angry."

"Your mother's anger could have many roots. Perhaps knowing your father was once in love with my mother stung even more.” The unicorn got to her feet and shook some leaves off her coat.

Sylvain got to his feet as well. “I doubt that.” He frowned and wondered if he hadn't missed something after all.

"We should decide something, but I have to think for a minute. Decisions are not my strong point,” said the unicorn, shaking its head. Her mane swept through the air, and a rainbow appeared, then vanished.

"I'd like to take you back to the castle. There is more at stake than a simple love story. This country deserves a chance at peace. If you break off your wedding engagement, the princes may never meet and parley. At least wait until that happens before deciding anything. No one can force you to marry against your will."

There was a moment of silence as the unicorn stood with its eyes half closed. Then it half reared and uttered a loud neigh. “I will go back to the castle and meet with the two princes, I promise you that, for peace is important to me. But first I need to do something, and I must take my proper form."

"Don't you need the wizard to turn you back into a maiden?"

"No.” The unicorn vanished and Leonie stood in its place. Sylvain gasped. She was just as lovely and ethereal as he'd remembered. She gave a silvery laugh and the unicorn appeared again.

"How did you do that?"

"A unicorn is a magical creature. In that form, I learned much of the nature of magic and its uses. I need no wand, nor spell. Now I'd like to go home."

"But you won't forget your promise to meet with the princes?” To Sylvain, this was an important point. He'd been horrified by the results of the war upon Querel.

"I gave my promise.” The unicorn was silent a minute, then said, “We should leave now, before I become too much a unicorn, and change my mind.” There was an ocean of longing in her whisper.

"Now? But it's nearly night."

"Hold your horses.” The unicorn waited until he'd taken their reins. Then it came and stood near them. A soft breeze sprang up and surrounded them. Sylvain felt his hair moving, and the horses’ tails played in the breeze. As gently as a kitten's paw, the breeze lifted them and carried them through the lavender evening. Below, Sylvain saw the tops of the trees leaning as the whirlwind passed, but inside was as calm as a spring day.

"How did you do this?” he asked, leaning over to get a look at the ground rushing past. He had to shout, for even if the whirlwind was gentle, it still made a lot of noise.

"It's easy once you know how.” The unicorn laughed, and Sylvain, who'd never heard a unicorn laugh, suddenly knew what pure joy sounded like.

The night grew deep, but they flew over the countryside without faltering until they reached the edge of a small orchard where they landed with the slightest of bumps. In the distance Sylvain saw Castle Veil, its slanted roof silhouetted against the night sky.

An owl hooted, and he turned to find Leonie at his side. She'd shed her unicorn body and was a maiden once more. “I am always cold like this,” she said, her teeth chattering.

"Cold like what?"

"As a person. I should have worn a warmer dress.” She hugged her arms around herself and shivered. Her silk robe was far too thin for a winter's night, and she hurried down a narrow path that led through the orchard and into the back garden. Mist had risen, and it swirled around them and appeared on the spider's webs in tiny diamond droplets.

There was light coming from a window in the castle, and Leonie turned and glanced back at Sylvain, who was following with his horses. “There is someone in the kitchen. Put your horses in the stables. I'll send Bob to help you."

"Bob is still a dog,” said Sylvain. “Ann couldn't turn him back."

A half-smile appeared on Leonie's lips. “Don't worry about that. Just go to the stables. I'll take care of Bob.” She waved, and stepped into the mist.

Feeling as if he'd just entered an enchanted dream, Sylvain ducked under an arched gate covered with a heavy growth of yellow winter jasmine and put his horses in the small, cozy stable. Whistling tunelessly, he took off their bridles and saddles. He was about to start brushing them when an old man came in. He looked at Sylvain with mournful brown spaniel eyes.

"I'll take care of them, son.” He took the brush from Sylvain and patted his shoulder. “And thank you for bringing our Leonie home."

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In the vast kitchen, a crackling fire kept the cold at bay. The massive stone chimney, built on the north wall, was big enough to stand up in, and had a small bread oven tucked in the corner of it. An iron cauldron hung from a black chain, while baskets of dried apples, corn, and rose-hips lined the walls.

Leonie sat on a three legged stool right next to the fire, a thick, red woolen shawl over her shoulders. She looked so at home there that Sylvain didn't doubt for an instant that was where she spent most of the cold days. In her hands she held a long stemmed corn popper. She shook it, and he heard the rat-a-tat sound of corn popping, and the sweet, homey scent of popcorn filled his nostrils.

"Ann does this better than I do. She never burns popcorn. It's a pity she's gone to the village. Oh, I think it's almost done,” she said. The heat had put color in her pale cheeks, and her eyes, though still shy and shadowed, sparkled.

Sylvain swallowed and nodded. He found he was even more tongue-tied around Leonie than he had been around the unicorn. There was something remarkable about her. He had the feeling she was the most powerful wizard in the world and yet the lightest touch would shatter her like glass.

Cook came into the room and nodded at Sylvain. She wore a big apron, and had red, round cheeks. “Here is Cook,” said Leonie. “Cook, this is Prince Sylvain."

"We met before,” said Sylvain, giving a bow.

"That's right. I forgot you spent a few days here with Ann,” Leonie said.

"So pleased to see you again,” said Cook cheerfully. She pulled out the bench and said, “Have a seat, your Highness."

Sylvain sat. Leonie finished popping the corn and poured it into a bowl, while Cook put a handful of rose-hips in a tea kettle and added boiling water. Only then did Sylvain notice the small wooden box on the floor near Leonie's feet.

"Is your father still there?” he asked. “Is he all right?"

"He's sleeping,” said Leonie. “Snakes hibernate in the winter, and he's almost become snake. I can't transform him without harming him. He has to remember who he really is.” She reached down and drew a finger along the side of the box. Sylvain thought he saw pale green sparks, but it must have been from the fire, he thought.

"Did you forget who you were?” he asked her.

She carried the bowl of popcorn to the table and sat next to him. “No. I wanted to, but I was always Leonie, no matter how hard I tried to become something else."

Cook put cups of steaming rose-hip tea in front of them. The sweet, lemony scent made him dizzy. “I need to wash up,” he said.

Cook tapped his shoulder. “Follow me, Prince Sylvain. I will show you to your room.” First she poured hot water into a large pitcher, and then she led him up three stairs into the front hall. There, she turned left and went down a narrow hallway with a red door at the end. She opened it and motioned him inside. It led to the guest room where he'd stayed before.

In the brick fireplace, a cozy fire already warmed the room, and the bed had been made with flannel sheets and a fuzzy red and green plaid blanket. His saddle bags were next to the bed, and he saw that his clothes had been hung in the open closet. Next to the closet there was one, floor-length window. The shutters were closed and there were heavy, green velvet curtains to keep the draft out. It was a festive room, with a wreath of ivy and holly hanging on the wall just above the fireplace.

Cook set the pitcher down next to a basin. “Take your time. I'll keep your tea warm and dinner will be ready soon."

"Thank you,” said Sylvain. He washed up and put on a clean tunic. Over the table where the basin rested hung a small mirror. His reflection stared gravely at him. A small-boned man with straight, chocolate brown hair and dark brown eyes, so dark you couldn't see his pupils. Violet shadows smudged his eyes and his hair had a small twig caught in it. He ran his hands through his hair and rubbed the stubble on his cheeks. He needed a good wash and a shave, but more than that he needed a meal and a long rest.

He turned and faced the door, reaching for the round, pewter handle. Suddenly his hand shook. Taking a deep breath he closed his eyes and tried to will his thoughts away. Thoughts of Leonie sitting near the fireplace, the light warming her porcelain skin.