At that, the others laughed while Sir Hootington hooted.
I looked at Portia, giving her an apologetic smile.
“We’ll see you next time, Rosalyn,” she told me with a light grin “And in the words of Bard Drear, ‘May fortune favor those bold of heart and reward them with love’s purest art.’“
With a grin, I stashed my copy ofCrown and Crumpetsinto my bag and hurried from the bookshop.
If Miss Beth could win her man through persistence, a well-executed waltz, and perfectly baked crumpets, maybe I could get Bjorn Runeson to warm up to me with a basket of scones and a smile.
Then we’d see what Bard Silas Drear would have to say about that.
CHAPTER 10
BJORN
Woodsong Cabin was a finely appointed space with a small bed, a table with two chairs, a stone fireplace, and a small kitchen. A glowing message box hung on the wall. The box was dwarven in design and shimmered green, enchanted by a witch or wizard. I’d never used one before, but as I understood it, you merely addressed your message to someone, wrote a note, slipped it into the box, and it delivered your message. Ingenious and curious magic.
Leaving my horse in the small pen attached to the cabin, I grabbed a few things from my satchel and headed into the fields.
As I went, I surveyed the landscape for any sign of disruption. I spotted no unusual vegetation, insects, or other features possibly causing chaos in the distance.
Pausing momentarily, I drew a rune in the air before me, whispering an enchantment for protection. I hadn’t lied to Faelor. My mother, a gifted rune witch, had taught me rune magic. Protection spells had been first. The rune shimmered blue, bathing me with the protective spell. After casting the spell, I approached the unicorn herd.
The herd’s stallion spotted me coming and stepped out to inspect me. He was a handsome creature with an ebony-coloredcoat and a silver mane and tale. His rump was dotted with starbursts of silver hair, giving him a celestial pattern. Amongst the unicorns, I noted a few other males with darker hair—deep blue, green, and purple. They, too, kept an eye on me. The female unicorns had smooth coats in every pastel shade and white. The mare that had been at the elder’s stable and her foal grazed not far away.
I clicked to the stallion. “Hello, friend,” I called but then began whispering an enchantment my father’s real Master of Horse had taught me. Whenever around the animals, Master Runeson would evoke a calming spell, which I began to whisper now. I could see the spell take shape, a wave of runes floating gently toward the stallion, who watched me curiously as I approached. He breathed in deeply. He seemed to calm a little—but just a little. Suddenly remembering Emmalyn’s gift, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the packet of sugar blossom cubes.
That did the trick.
The unicorn’s stance relaxed. He exhaled deeply and made his way to me, sniffing curiously.
“So, Emmalyn was right. You all really do love these,” I said, taking out a cube and offering my flat palm to the unicorn.
He took it delicately, his lips and whiskers dancing across my palm, leaving it slightly damp.
Once the others caught wind of what was happening, I soon found myself the friends of the entire herd…save those busy munching on the honeybloom violets.
As each came in close, taking a sweet and then wandering off back on their adventures, I looked them over. No sign of ailment. No runny noses, no gunk in the eyes, no outward signs of ailment.
But one young foal was running amuck across the field, his coat changing colors as he jumped and hopped, prancing arounda kaleidoscope of butterflies. On the other side of the field, an old stallion was grazing, minding his own business, and farting clouds of sparkly rainbows.
From what I could see, the unicorns didn’t seem to be bothered by the impact of the magic. Unicorn magic was always rather capricious anyway, making things beautiful, whimsical, fun…or smelly, in the case of the old stallion.
Only now, they seemed to have less control.
Across the field, a mare’s horn lit up with a brilliant white light. She sneezed, stomping her foot, and a pile of hay appeared. It was so fresh and bright I could smell it on the breeze. The other unicorns joined in the feast.
I stood patting one of the young mares, giving her a sugar cube. Out of sheer curiosity, I popped one myself just to see what it tasted like—not bad, very sweet and floral. As the sweet taste melted on my tongue, I thought of Rosalyn again. My mind replayed her laughter, her easy way of being around people—something I was decidedly not so comfortable with, despite my mother’s best efforts—and her beauty. I had never seen anyone so beautiful in all my life.
The mare beside me snorted, shaking me from my thoughts.
“Right. You’re right. I need to focus,” I told her, giving her another sugar cube, then set off again.
I spent the afternoon scouring the fields looking for any sign of something in the environment, seen or unseen, affecting the unicorns. I studied their behavior and exchanges. Aside from their chaotic magic, nothing seemed amiss.
I also looked for any tell-tale signs of spells or wards that might be impacting them. It wasn’t my specialty area, but I saw no sign of any malicious magic.
After an exhaustive search, I found nothing.
