The Unicorn Hunters: A Novel(100)

She smiled at him. “I am glad of this,” she said. “Whatever comes.”

He’d drawn the blankets away to see her in the moonlight, she realized; his eyes were hot, and his look turned knowing when she shivered. “I am glad too,” he said, bowing his head to her breast and licking her there. “But God, Anne, I cannot stand tamely by while you barter yourself to any king now.”

“But there is nothing left to barter,” said Anne, after a slightly rueful pause. “And we do not know what tomorrow brings. When is moonset? Is dawn coming? We must go when it comes.”

“It will set soon,” said Louis. “And I think there is time until dawn. Sleep if you can.”

She was only half-awake when they came together again, the sky just faintly graying through that one traitorous window, the sound of rain still constant on the roof. She came out of dreams with his mouth on her, and her new-wakened flesh already wet and pliant, and she wrapped both legs around him when he slipped inside, rocking. He was rougher that time; taking her as though heedless of her soreness, pushing her until suddenly the ache became a piercing ecstasy.

This time he slept, and Anne, tender and fully awake, slipped out of bed and found her clothes. She could not lace her bodice properly, but she left it loose and put his cloak over, slipped down the stairs. The tapestries on the walls below were visible in the dawn light. She considered them, as she had been too tired to do before. Sea-drakes and horses, playing in an azure sea.

Outside she heard the sound of feet and voices. She went softly to the outer door and opened it.

A lady was walking toward the house in the cool dawn. She was young and pregnant and very beautiful. And a korrigan. There was no mistaking the yellow eyes, the thin fingers, the number of teeth. A diadem was plaited into her long hair, and her robe was silk. Her hair was damp, and her eyes shone. The old man stood still, watching her approach. He said, just loud enough for Anne to hear, “Have you come from the dragons, love?”

“Yes,” she said. “But I shall not go again until the child is born. The sea is cold. I must content myself with horses.” She kissed him, smiling, and walked on into the faint dawn. The rain that Anne had heard on the roof starred her hair. Then she was simply gone. Anaon, Anne thought.

The old man stood silent.

Drawing Louis’s cloak tighter around herself, she walked outside, frowning.

The old man turned to her and his face was full of wistful memory.

Anne said, “When I was a child, I used to love the story of a king of men who wedded a princess of the korriganed and ruled an enchanted city. But this lady died in childbed, and the story says that her husband, who was called Gralon Meur, went into the Lost Lands to find her and was lost forever to men.”

The old man made no answer.

Anne said, “Will you tell me your name? I am called Anne, and in the mortal world, I am duchess of Brittany.”

The old man said, “I do not remember my name. Now go inside. You will catch your death.”

Softly, Anne said, “In the story, they say that Gralon Meur was a good king who loved his people. But they never knew if he found his wife in the Lost Lands.”

The old man let out a long, slow breath. “Just this single moment,” he said, after a pause. “It is all I found of her. But it is enough. Every dawn I see her, and every dawn I am content.”

Anne said, “I am looking for Keris. The drowned city, they call it, for your daughter Ahèz turned to evil and the city was taken back into the Lost Lands. She is trapped there in the dark, the korriganed say. The whole city is trapped.”

The old man’s eyes hardened, and for the first time she could see the king in him. Dawn was breaking slowly, and the night wind still blew coldly through the trees. “The city is not drowned,” he said sharply. “The city will stand forever.”

Anne said gently, “Forever trapped. I have come to save it.”

The old man said nothing.

“Will you tell me how to get there?” said Anne.

He shook his head slow and heavy. “How would I know? My road would not be yours, if you are going through the Lost Lands. A unicorn could find it perhaps, but unicorns rarely help the children of men or reward mortal ambition.” He said all this quite gently. “I think you should go home.”

Anne stood still. “I see,” she said.

Of course, Anne thought. That is why Julien Moreau was hunting unicorns. That is why he wanted me, when he knew I had his gift.

She raised her eyes to the edge of the wood. “Lady of the forest, you have come to me twice before,” Anne said. “You have waited for me and I did not know why. But now I think I know. Will you come again?”

Gralon Meur drew in a sharp breath.

The unicorn stepped soundlessly out from between the trees, with snow tangled in her mane, a cold winter light like silver-gilt on the horn. Then she shook the snow away and was in the same dawn as they. She arched her neck.

“Lady,” whispered Gralon Meur. He was silent a long moment, like a man dazzled or dreaming. Then he turned to Anne. “It seems I was mistaken.” His eyes were soft and a little sad. “Go with my blessing.”

“I cannot yet,” said Anne. “My—my chevalier sleeps within.”

Gralon considered her gravely. “What do you want with the city of Keris?”

It was not an idle inquiry. He had been crowned king of this lost city. There could be no lies. Anne said, “I wish to restore Keris to the mortal world, and I wish to be crowned queen of it and add its grace to my dominion of Brittany.”