The Unicorn Hunters: A Novel(108)

His face softened. “I can,” he said. “But I think they will abide. It was—a very terrible curse, and the city is only realizing how terrible now that it is over.” He paused. “There are some who might not survive much longer, for they abetted the queen in all her whims.”

Anne sat still. “Can you keep people from making their own justice? It is not meet.”

“I can, for a time, but they will want to be heard.”

“I will hear,” said Anne. “After I rest.”

A chamber was found for her, clean and austere. She slept as she had not slept since she was a child, with the sunlight and the wind pouring off a sky-colored sea.

When she woke, she felt creased and rumpled, but ferociously alive. She slipped out of the bedchamber to the anteroom and saw the old queen of the korriganed there, humming to herself and stitching on a cloth.

Anne and the lady looked at each other. The lady’s eyes were sad. A moment of kinship flowed between them. Like fencing-partners of long standing. Anne said, “Your granddaughter is dead. I am sorry.”

A dismissive gesture. “In her heart, she died long ago.”

“She sought love and there was no one to love her.” Anne felt a stirring of anger. Who would she have been without her father? Without Isabeau?

“There was that. Also, she is half-korrigan, and we are intemperate in our rages. Cruelty might grow from hurt, but it is still cruelty. She is in the Lost Lands now, set free to wander. Perhaps she will find her peace at last.”

Anne said, “Lady, where is my family?”

“At Guérande, in sight of the sea, as I promised.”

“And how many days have passed in the mortal realms?”

“Seven,” the lady answered evenly.

Anne nodded. It was not disastrous. “Will you be my ally? Will the korriganed remember their ancient friendship with the people of Keris? I would make a place in my councils for your people, if they follow mortal law, and I would forbid them to be threatened with iron.”

“I am not sure you want sorcery seeping back into the mortal world,” returned the lady with cheerful malice. “Also, are you sure you are not offering us your alliance because you want to vanquish the French at any cost?”

“I imagine not,” said Anne shortly. “But I have been too busy for self-reflection.”

The old lady sighed. “Once I had hoped that when Gralon—such a brave, golden-haired creature, to be sure—came to woo my Malgven, they should have a child fit to rule our lands together. Instead, all this nuisance happened.”

A thousand years did not seem like a mere nuisance, but Anne was not a korrigan. The lady then said, “How do you suppose I can help you? I have no armies.”

“All the more reason to step out of the shadows,” said Anne. “That our lands may thrive together. Between your people and the sorcerers in Keris,” she added practically, “I am sure we can devise something.”

“Politician!” said the old lady cheerfully. “I am not sure you understand the import of all you have done. I think perhaps we can secure your borders for you, and allow traffic between men and korriganed. We have fond memories of the mortal world, after all. I hope you will not regret it, small queen. Do you still mean to marry yourself to this Charles, or to remain wedded to Maximilien?”

“No,” said Anne shortly. “If this city’s coffers will furnish me with monies enough, I shall send a great bribe to Rome to have all annulled.”

“Your Orléans loves you.”

“He is already married,” said Anne. She did not mean to dwell on it.



* * *





The city of Keris heaved with realizations, chief among them that hundreds of years had passed in an endless night, and also that the queen was dead. And that a lady had come to them riding a unicorn, across the trackless wastes of the Lost Lands, and they meant to crown her instead.

Anne did not wish to rest in the people’s minds as a mere figure of rumor, so she rode out into the city just as she had been before, in the pearl-sewn gown, the fillet of unicorn-hair bound round her brow. Her horse was no unicorn, but she was delicate as a deer and gray as the sea.

After, Anne closeted herself with the heads of the guilds and the great lords—who numbered as many women as men. Keris had always traded much with the korriganed, who never quibbled at the authority of women.

How to defend Keris was not so obvious as it might have appeared, though the city stood in the midst of a great blue bay. They had never feared attack, because of the sea-drakes in the harbor. But there were no dragons in the water now.

Sorcerers were rare, she learned. But the city had half a dozen enchanters who could make attackers see nothing but fog all around, or impassable flames, and so she bade them keep watch on the wall. She had told them what had happened in Brittany.

“We have a few days,” she said, “which we must use to our advantage, but the city must be defended too. And we must relieve Rennes, and garrison Nantes.”

It was dusk when she dismissed them, and she sat in the council-chamber alone, feeling lonely and out of her depth. That is when she saw Louis, dark-eyed, in the doorway.

She stumbled to her feet.

He was wearing fresh clothes, in the manner of the men of Keris, and the blue sword. He stared at her in silence. He didn’t speak.