Chapter 4

By morning the whole court had turned out for the procession.

They lined the white road in their best, and at the head of it I climbed onto Grub's back in front of every last one of them. I had ridden this thing to my death once. This time my hands didn't shake — I made sure of that.

Theron watched from his horse, close, his eyes never leaving me.

I felt the pull the moment I settled into the saddle — Grub reaching for my light, greedy as ever.

This time my light came back to me instead, sliding home warm under my skin where it had been cold a year.

So I gave them their show. I bowed in the saddle, dimmed my glow down to nothing, and rode the white road looking like a woman wasting away by inches. Grub carried me down the length of it, proud and high.

The crowd sighed for me — the great Lady Eldraine, withering under the weight of her own gift. Theron looked the most pleased of anyone.

"You see now," he murmured, riding up beside me. "It sours your magic because it loves you. You mustn't shut it away."

"You're right." I let my shoulders cave. "I won't part with it again. I'll ride it every day, if that's what's best."

That was all he needed. By midday he was gone — called out of the capital to some old gathering of his, the kind that kept a man away a week or more.

A week. Seven clear days to settle what was owed.

Wren came to me the moment the gates shut behind him. "The haulers are ready, my lady. What do we do with it?"

I went to the glass and let the glamour fall. My own face looked back at me — bright and whole, my light burning the way it had before any of them ever touched it.

Behind me, Grub was fighting its rope, stamping and balking, as if something had gone wrong that it couldn't put a name to.

I crossed to it and stroked its trembling neck, gentle as anything.

"I've found you honest work," I murmured. "Seven days of it. Aren't you excited?"

Seven days later, Theron's carriage stopped at the gates.

The whole house hung with white. He climbed down frowning and caught the nearest servant by the arm. "What is this?"

I knelt at the bier, bent and gray and ancient, weeping into my sleeve.

"You were barely gone a day," I sobbed, "when poor Elowen took a turn. She withered in her bed before anyone could reach her. Her body went so fast we couldn't keep it — I had her burned. I gave her every honor, I swear it. She's in the ground now."

The color fell out of his face. "And the unicorn—?"

Wren led it in.

It came stumbling across the stones on rope-thin legs, coat caked black with filth, the harness sores along its back rubbed raw. Whatever glow it had once worn was guttering out like a snuffed candle, and what showed underneath was gray, shrunken, hideous.

I dried my eyes, and let the grief slip just a little.

"The poor creature fouled my halls, so I sent it where filthy beasts belong. Seven days it's hauled the dung carts through the lower city — the whole town has watched it pass." I smiled at him. "And look. All that borrowed light is finally rotting off her."