Esofi smiled. “Perhaps.” But before either of them could say any more, they were interrupted by a breathless maid.
“My ladies,” she whispered, chest heaving. “Forgive my intrusion, but Lady Svana and Lord Brandt have returned to the city. And they have brought with them—”
“Their manners?” muttered Adale.
“Shh, be polite,” said Esofi. She smiled at the maid. “Where are they?”
“On their way,” said the maid, pointing across the green. “You can already see everyone gathering.”
She was correct. Where there had been nothing but empty lawn and a few idle courtiers five minutes ago was now a swiftly growing crowd of onlookers who spoke excitedly to one another.
Adale frowned and got up. “What’s this all about?” But nobody seemed to have an answer for her. Then from up ahead, there was a shout of “Step aside!” and the crowd parted, revealing the twins. Something large and white walked between them, shying away from every sudden movement.
“What do they have?” asked Adale. “A horse?” Though she’d never seen a horse of such a color before. Its coat was painfully white, like harsh winter sunlight gleaming over fresh snow, and it was slender and long-legged, like the horses of Masim and the southern lands, but there was something not precisely right about the shape of it. Something quite unlike a horse at all.
Before Adale could inspect her thoughts more closely, before she could consider the cloven hooves or strange tuft of hair at the animal’s chin or the leonine tail that swept from side to side anxiously—before she could do any of that, the creature turned its head to the side and Adale saw, for the first time, the long and gleaming crystal horn that protruded from its forehead.
Esofi spilled her tea down the front of her dress.
Immediately, two different maids lunged forward with cloths to soak up the liquid, but Esofi seemed not to notice them. She moved toward the twins as if in a trance, and her hands very gently went to the unicorn’s face.
“It has lived on our mother’s lands for as long as anyone can remember,” Brandt was saying in a loud voice. “But we are the only ones who have managed to catch it.”
“You must tell me how you did it,” said Esofi.
“I sang to it,” said Svana smugly. A rope of glittering green magic was wrapped around the unicorn’s neck and clasped firmly in her hands. Adale almost bit through her own cheek while Esofi continued to exclaim over the creature.
“Do you like it?” asked Brandt at last.
“I love it,” said Esofi. She looked up. “This is so thoughtful. I shall never forget this. But…” She gazed at the unicorn, and it gazed back at her, almost…knowingly?
“But?” prompted Svana.
“Unicorns are magical creatures of the wild,” said Esofi gently. “To confine one in a city would be wrong. You must bring him back to your mother’s estate.”
“Then you reject the gift?” asked Brandt.
“This moment is gift enough,” said Esofi. She lowered her hands. “Promise me you’ll have him sent home?”
The twins glanced at each other, speaking with their hands and eyebrows in that way they sometimes did.
“Of course, Princess,” said Brandt, inclining his head slightly. “Of course.”
THE MOURNING PERIOD was over, and Adale found that she was actually looking forward to the engagement ball. Esofi had not made a formal announcement regarding her choice—that would be done at the ball itself—but confidence filled Adale with a warm glow.
Her mother seemed to agree, and it was with the contributions of what felt like every lady in the castle that Adale prepared for the evening. At the end of it, she was dressed in a gown made of midnight-blue silk with her braids coiled around her head in a complicated and somewhat uncomfortable way that nevertheless perfectly suited the tiara her mother had given her as a gift that same evening. Everything was new, from her shoes to her stockings to her gloves, and when she looked in the mirror, Adale thought that perhaps she wouldn’t be the worst queen in Ieflarian history.
She thanked her mother and her ladies profusely for their help and set off to find Lethea and Daphene, who had disappeared at some point during the application of face powder. As she walked down the familiar hallways, she noted to herself that the shoes weren’t nearly as uncomfortable as she’d assumed they would be.
The halls were so quiet it was almost eerie, but that didn’t dampen her spirits. Adale smiled to herself, wondering what trouble her friends had gotten themselves into this time and hoping it wouldn’t require any running or lifting to get them out of it—the dress was so delicate, she was afraid it might tear if someone looked at it too hard.
She didn’t notice the tendril of emerald light snaking around her foot until it slammed her to the ground.
When her vision cleared, all she could see were the twins sneering down at her.
“What are you doing?” shrieked Adale.
The twins both rolled their eyes in unison. “What do you think we’re doing, Adale?” retorted Svana. “We don’t know why you’re insisting upon carrying out this farce. You’d only doom Ieflaria if you married the princess.”
Adale tried to get up, but the vines were multiplying, binding her hands and legs together. “So this is your plan?” she cried, outraged. “You think that Esofi won’t hear about how you assaulted the crown princess? I’ll tell her that—”
“By all means, inform Princess Esofi,” said Svana cheerfully. “I’m sure she’ll believe that your loving cousins committed treason and risked exile to lock you in a room for twelve hours when it’s far more likely that you just changed your mind about the marriage and ran off to get drunk in some horrible tavern.”
A tendril wrapped itself around her head and across her mouth, cutting off any reply Adale might have given. The twins moved quickly, dragging Adale along the ground until they reached a familiar door—Albion’s old room. Brandt pulled out a key, unlocked the door, and they shoved Adale inside. With a sudden slam of the door, Adale was alone in darkness with only the faintly glowing light of emerald magic.
Adale tried to scream, but the vine in her mouth didn’t allow for it. She wriggled desperately, but the magical vines weren’t like rope. They couldn’t be broken or loosened at all.
Of course. Of course. Why had she thought the twins would just accept the loss gracefully? She had been so distracted by the dragons and so certain of Esofi’s affections that she’d completely failed to keep an eye on the twins, despite knowing perfectly well that they were more of a threat than ever before with their new magical abilities.
Thank you, Talcia, thought Adale. Why would the goddess give her gifts to those two? Why would any deity? Had Talcia known this would happen?
Had Talcia wanted it to happen?
Sod her. I don’t care what she wants. If Talcia wanted Esofi to marry one of the twins, she could come to Birsgen and tell her in person. Until then, Adale wasn’t going to give up. She paused to think and catch her breath. Iron was known to interfere with magic. Was there anything in the room made of iron? Adale focused, trying to pick out something helpful in the darkness.
But now the emerald vines were dissipating; either the twins had lifted the magic or it had worn off. The moment she was free, Adale scrambled to her feet and rushed to the door, only to find it was locked. She yanked at the handle and kicked repeatedly, but it was useless—this room had once belonged to the crown prince, and the door could withstand a siege.
“Hey!” yelled Adale. “Anybody! I’m locked in!”
But even as she shouted, she knew it was useless. Everyone from the lowest serving maid to the captain of the royal guard would be at the betrothal already.