Chapter 2

So I gave them the face they wanted.

I let my voice go soft and hurt. "You think I'd harm it? I adore the creature. I'd never let the smallest hurt come to it — I only want to do right by it."

Theron's face eased.

Then I said, "And Lady Elowen blessed it for me from her own sickbed. The least I can do is thank her. I'll go to her rooms now."

He caught my arm at once. "Elowen is very ill. Don't go near her. You might take the sickness."

Last time, he'd said the same words. He never once let me see her while she breathed. I only saw her after I was dead — her soul drifting out of that unicorn, sinking back into her own cold body. The pale, wasted thing went bright and warm in a heartbeat, a girl of twenty again, glowing with my stolen light. She'd smiled up at him like the whole world had just been handed to her.

I kept my face gentle. "You're willing to sit at her sickbed yourself. How could I, of all people, fail to pay my respects?"

I lifted his hand off my arm and turned to go.

"You will not." His voice came down hard across the hall. "You'll stay out of her rooms. That's the end of it."

A man I had raised out of nothing, giving me orders in front of the whole court. Last life I would have dropped my eyes and obeyed, because I loved him. I had loved him enough to die for him.

I dropped my eyes now too. Let him think I'd folded.

He swept out, quick, and left me alone with Grub. The two of us stared at each other.

The attendants started up at once, low and busy.

"The captain's such a gentle man, and he raised his voice for Lady Elowen. He must care for her so."

"He only wants to keep our lady from troubling the poor girl. That's all it is."

"Hush. The lady will hear."

I listened, quiet. "I never knew my own people had such loose tongues," I said. "Had I known, I'd have sent every one of you away and found quieter ones."

They went stiff and silent. Good. A frightened servant is an honest one.

That was when Grub saw its chance. It stepped toward me, head dipping low, soft and coaxing — the very picture of a sweet thing that only wanted to be loved.

The instant its muzzle brushed my sleeve, the cold pull started under my skin, and I jerked away.

"Keep it back." I pressed a hand to my temple, as if the floor had tilted. "Its magic muddles mine. I can feel my own light guttering this close to it. Stable it somewhere apart. Now."

The attendants, still fresh off my warning, scrambled to obey.

Grub went rigid. Then something ugly flickered through its eye, and it lost its nerve. It came at me fast — far faster than I could move — throwing itself against me, desperate to get its skin on mine.

I couldn't stop it. Cold sweat broke down my back. I twisted aside, but it caught my arm anyway and leaned its whole weight in, staring up at me with two gloating eyes.

I'd learned the truth too late, last life. A touch was all it needed. One night with that creature curled against me, and my hair had gone gray by morning.

The attendants came back leading a halter and a length of rope.

I frowned and clicked my tongue, and dropped it like an afterthought. "Look at the state of its coat. Filthy, matted. Someone ought to give it a proper scrubbing."

A young groom brightened, eager to please. "For a coat that bad, my lady, you want the stiff boar-bristle brush and the cheap lye. Scrub it down hard — strip it right back to the skin. That'll get it clean."