Chapter 3

Grub heard the word lye and flinched.

It shied back from the groom and his brush, ears pinned flat, then let itself be led off toward the stalls without a fight. It would sooner be shut away in the dark than scrubbed raw in front of the whole yard.

I almost laughed.

"Put it in the low stable, the far end," I said, and yawned. "I'm tired. I won't have it braying under my window all night."

I went to my rooms and shut the door behind me. Only Wren was left.

She stood twisting her hands. "My lady. The waste-haulers, that part's done, it was easy enough. But it's the unicorn. The gift Lady Elowen blessed with her own hands. If you set a sacred beast to dragging dung carts, the whole court will turn on you."

"The whole court will hear that its magic fouls mine, and that I had no choice but to send it off to honest work, far from me." I smiled. "I never once raised a hand to it. What's there to blame me for?"

She still looked sick over it. I reached out and tipped her chin up.

"Don't fret over what you don't need to know." Then, lower: "It can't drink from me anymore, Wren. I've seen to that. Let it press itself against me all it likes — the pull reaches me and finds nothing there."

Her eyes went round. "But your light, my lady. The fading—"

"A trick. A glamour, nothing more." I patted her hand. "Let every one of them watch me wither. The more they believe it, the safer I am — and the more careless they get."

I knew exactly what was coming for me this time. I had no intention of sitting still and letting it kill me twice.

The next morning they sent a healer to me first. He held my wrist a long while, frowning, turning my hand over in his. Then he left without a word. He'd found nothing wrong. There was nothing to find.

Theron came after him.

He came in fast, his eyes already running over me, head to foot, hunting for the proof.

So I gave it to him. I lifted a hand to my hair and let a streak of it show through, dull and ashen where the glow had gone out, and let my voice go thin.

"You think I don't grieve over it? Look what it's already taken from me." I let my fingers tremble against the gray. "But its magic sours mine the moment it comes near. I can't keep the thing beside me. What would you have me do?"

The gray did the work. His shoulders came down. Whatever he'd braced himself for walking in, this was the thing he'd wanted to see — me fading, the gift quietly doing its work.

Then his face changed, and the warmth went out of it.

"Sours your magic." He said it flat. "The finest rider in the court, undone by standing near a beast. No one will believe that. I don't believe it."

My pulse jumped. He hadn't swallowed a word.

"You've never been weak a day in your life, Aurelia." He smiled again then, gentle, and the gentleness was the worst part. "So you'll ride it. In the procession tomorrow. The whole court will be there to watch, and they'll see how their first lady treasures a sacred gift — and how poor Elowen is thanked for her kindness."