Being a true shifter isn’t the blessing it may seem. But through pain and darkness Perdita seeks to find her own life despite the ambition of others…
Chapter Eight – Unicorn to Fairyland
Moth came back into her own head. Furious.
“Stupid fae won’t talk.”
“Why, dear one?”
“Some creature tells this is not fae business. They believe.”
I groaned. “Does this mean a visit to your Queen?”
Moth nodded. “Mandrake comes too?”
“He does. How do we get there?”
“We ride unicorn.” Moth explained.
“Unicorn?”
I think he thought I might shift my form. But, of course, that is impossible when you are flying into the land of the fae. Falling out of the sky is something to be avoided at all costs. I hastened to explain.
“It isn’t me in unicorn form. The land of the fae is too well protected for that. No. This is a sort of a taxi. Stick your fingers in your ears and shut your eyes.”
He did as I asked and I did the same. Even then, the sound of Moth summoning a unicorn made my bones vibrate and my teeth chatter. Fortunately it was a thing that was over almost as soon as it had begun.
“Why have I never heard that before? And please tell me I won’t have to hear it again.”
Moth bestowed her best sever look on our mate. “Is bonding thing. And you will hear worse.” She grinned at me. “You wait until beloved sings. Now. Furs.”
We shrugged ourselves into our furs and Mandrake had a quick conversation with Purslane. He was intuitive enough to understand the need for hurry without being told, and the three of us were outside in the grey cold when the sound of hoofbeats announced the arrival of our ride.
I don’t know what you may have been told about unicorns, but I’m about willing to bet it’s not the truth. Unicorns are not pink, nor snow white. Their horns are not pretty gilded adornments. And they certainly don’t like anything that isn’t a unicorn – or each other, much, now I come to think of it.
The creature who had come to transport us to the fae lands stood about twenty hands at the shoulder. He – for he was obviously a full stallion – was the colour of a storm cloud and his horn was a twisted, saw-edged weapon that had obviously seen a lot of use. He dropped to the ground showily, deliberately showering us with snow as he slithered to a halt. Mandrake growled and the unicorn took a closer look.
“A dragon. Since when did you own a dragon, Mothwing?”
“Mind business horse.”
The unicorn stamped a hoof and I decided to take a hand.
“Were you summoned here to collect Mothwing and her bonded mates?”
He nodded.
“Well know this then. Here we are.”
“The dragon is bonded?”
“He is.”
The unicorn made a brief obeisance and shook his head so that spume flew from his lips.
“I will carry you three then. In safety.”
“Thank you…” I stretched my mind for a second, “Alsviør.”
He preened that I should know his name, before making the knee so we could mount. When we were settled he turned his head.
“Where to Fairy Mothwing?”
“The seelie court.”
Riding a unicorn is about the most uncomfortable means of transportation you can think of as their flight is best described as a series of leaps and drops. It is vomit inducing, but we managed not to disgrace ourselves.
The landing in the courtyard of the seelie castle was considerably more decorous than at Lyon Hall and we were able to climb down easily.
“I shall await you.” Alsviør nodded his head twice and trotted off.
Moth hawked and spat and Mandrake offered her a tiny bottle from his pocket. “Water and herbs.”
She took a sip and her colour returned to normal. “Thank you, beloved dragon.”
A uniformed elf awaited us. He was a little quieter and more polite than his kind normally are. Mandrake spoke in my head.
‘Elves are generally respectful around dragons.’
‘Why?’
I felt his chuckle in my bones.
‘Elf is something of a delicacy.’
Moth joined the conversation. ‘Hate flesh eating. Could make exception for elves though.’
‘Little bastards.’
Moth climbed onto my shoulder and we followed our guide through the halls with their strangely slanting floors and odd curves. Mandrake snorted and I smiled up at him.
“Yeah. I know but we generally let her majesty have her little joke.”
“Mothwing are you holding,” he asked in his deepest most forbidding tones.
“Moth is fine, have eyes closed. Trusting beloved.”
He put his hand to where she sat on my shoulder and touched her face. The intimacy of the contact was both warming and slightly shocking.
“Behave you two.”
Moth sniggered and our elf guide turned narrow, vicious eyes our way.
“Such behaviour is frowned upon in the seelie court,” it snarled.
Mandrake snarled back and Moth speared him with a glare.
“Mind business, elf.” The dislike she put in that one word was quite enough to start something I didn’t want to have to finish in the domain of the Faerie Queen. I put an admonishing finger on her lips.
“Hush,” I murmured.
She subsided and that should have been that. But the elf was determined to have the last word.
“I can,” it said, “keep you and your ‘bond mates’ walking round in circles forever. I think you had better mend your attitude renegade fae.”
I sighed and snapped my fingers. The seemingly endless corridors disappeared and we stood outside the carved oak doors of the throne room.
“What? How?”
I speared him with a glance. “Mind business, elf.”
An elderly elf, who I recognised from previous visits, came barrelling down the corridor. It spared our guide a sideways glare before bowing so low it’s nose all but met its skinny knees.
“Great Lady. It’s glad I am to see you.”
I smiled at him.
“Is there a problem old one?”
“There is. And idiots like this one are making matters worse.”
The young elf snapped out an oath, and we could feel it beginning to construct a spell.
Mandrake reached out a long arm. He lifted the young one by his neck and squeezed gently.
“Put to sleep,” Moth demanded. “Is bad creature.”
Mandrake rapped the elf’s head against the stone of the wall and it grew limp in his grasp. Moth flew across and touched his face.
“Is pretending.”
Mandrake increased his pressure on the creature’s throat and sure enough its eyes flew open. The elderly elf put a hand on the young one’s head and it screamed faintly before sagging bonelessly in Mandrake’s grasp.
“Is sleep now.” Moth spoke dispassionately.
I turned to the old elf. “Are you permitted to tell me what is wrong?”
It bowed. “I am, Great Lady, but it might be better if you see for yourself.”
“Very well.”
It clapped its hands and two elves in the Queen’s livery threw open the doors of the throne room.
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