The Unicorn Hunters: A Novel(106)

Anne’s eye was drawn half-instinctively to the object of the court’s furtive glances.

At a high table, on her feet, a young woman stared incredulously at her. She wore a fiery diamond circlet round her brow, jewels at her throat and ears, and furious eyes the color of molten gold.

Ahèz, this queen was called in legend. The lady of keys. Half-korrigan, half-mortal.

The legends spoke of carelessness, and voluptuous cruelty. They never said she was so young.

She looked Anne’s age, no more. Her silk robe was patterned like the foam of the sea where it lingers like lacework near the shore, and it cradled her young body, grazed her breasts, flattered her golden skin. Her plaited hair was studded with flowers, and her lifted hand had thin, sharp-nailed fingers.

It was like staring into a fair and wanton mirror. Perhaps for Ahèz it was the same, for she stood still, taken aback. People were spilling into the hall behind her, but they all stopped, as though frozen in the queen’s gaze.

“Get out!” screamed the lady, and Anne watched the shifting light, braced for sorcery. None came. The girl’s eyes were fixed on the unicorn. “Have you come at last?” she whispered to the unicorn.

Anne slid off the unicorn’s back and bowed. “Majesty.”

In that archaic Breton, the queen said coldly, “Who are you?”

Anne said, “I have met your royal father.”

A stir went through the room.

“My father is lost,” said the lady, colder yet. “You are presumptuous.” But her hands clenched. Her gaze strayed again from Anne to the unicorn.

“Yes, he is lost. But I found him, if only for a little time,” said Anne. “He would tell you, his daughter, that no city should dwell in the dark forever.”

“It can if I want it to! I like it. There’s a feast every night, and a new person to love me.”

The folk in the room seemed barely to breathe.

The queen added, “My father abandoned me. He went to find Mother. He loved her best; he didn’t love me at all. He has no voice here. I shall kill anyone who speaks with his voice. I shall kill you.”

The hall filled with a stark noon light. Anne had only a breath to react, and only a quick smell of the sea to tell her what was coming. With a wrench of strength she didn’t know she had, she flung herself clumsily onto the unicorn just as the creature dodged sideways.

Then a sea-drake lay twisting on the floor, larger even than the one that had come to Nantes. It lunged, the unicorn caught the edge of its mouth with the tip of her horn, and it recoiled, open-mouthed.

Anne thought, No wonder the sea-drakes abandoned the realms of men, if they kept being dragged forth as the weapons of the mad.

The drake reared up and the unicorn reared in answer, shrilling, and Anne cried to her, “Help me! Can’t you see where it came from? The light on the water?”

The light flared and the sea-drake twisted into it. Anne saw its eye, flatly silver, the size of her two fists and knowing. She felt the cold blood from its mouth as it fell heavily on her cheek.

Then there was nothing but a floor awash in seawater, and Anne felt the heat of the blood already working in her, making her head swim. She nudged the unicorn, who walked forward until she stood quite near the queen. Ahèz was looking in disbelief at her own hands, still edged with the light of the day that had summoned the sea-drake. “That is not possible,” she said.

Anne said softly, “My father too left me. His horse killed him, but he had lost all his desire to live. I mourned him; I was angry at him. But it is not an excuse for cruelty.”

“Who are you to speak to me so?” Ahèz demanded. “Why do you have my father’s ring? Impostor! Usurper! Seize this woman and I will have her smothered.” In her eyes was a child’s fatal selfishness that becomes cruelty in men and women.

No one moved.

“Here is your father’s ring,” said Anne, and laid it on the table.

The queen cried, “Will no one kill this woman? Kill the unicorn and bring me the horn. I want them. She has disturbed my feast.”

Anne said, “Do you not wish for daylight, lady?”

“Why should I?” she spat back. “My father loved daylight, and I hate him.”

A different light filled the hall, a new enchantment, the furtive glimpse of another day in that same hall, Queen Malgven of the korrigan, great with child, and her husband, the crowned king Gralon Meur, their hands entwined. Just a glimpse, two ghosts drawn forth by a lonely child burdened with power. “They only wanted each other,” said Ahèz. “I am waiting for my love. I will have my banquets and my dances until he comes. You can have nothing to say to it, vagabond.”

Anne asked warily, “Have you met your love, Majesty?”

“Of course I have! He came to one of my banquets; he told me that he would love me forever.” The bells were ringing louder, audible now through the walls.

Anne said, “He is not coming back.”

“He will!” retorted the girl. “Someone has to come back. Not Father, not Mother, but someone must come back! It’s not fair.”

“It is not fair to be a queen,” said Anne. “But you were born to make justice for others and expect none for yourself. This you have not done. All here will witness it. But you can remedy it now. Help me bring the city out into daylight.”