“Where am I to go?” I asked Sage as I brushed her
velvety side.
Blinding white, sixteen hands high, and powerful, Sage’s
heritage as a unicorn was only evident by the nub in the center of her forehead
that had once been a long, elegantly lethal horn. I had never seen her in all
her glory.
According to Lippin, a unicorn hunter had driven her to
the ground, bound her, and sawed off her horn when she was only a colt. Only
the master healer’s intervention had saved her from being harvested for her
other parts. Since then, she had lived in the compound, cared for and fed.
When I came, one of my first duties was to deal with the
unicorn because she didn’t like males. Not a surprise, considering her past.
Not all males were an issue. I had been told she tolerated the master healer.
I rested my forehead against her warm hide, breathing in
the scent of warm, clean horse. “If he throws me out, I have nowhere to live.
Father still wishes me violence. I don’t want to go back there. Henri is dead.”
A fresh wave of grief pressed in on me. I hadn’t been able to save him. Never
to hold him again, ruffle his hair, laugh at his teasing, or chase him around
the bailey. Tears filled my eyes. I missed my brother so much.
Sage’s nose bumped my shoulder. She snuffled at my
kirtle sleeve.
“Just give me a moment,” I told her.
She snorted and side-stepped away from me.
“What?” I lifted my head and blinked at her. Unicorns
differed from horses in more than appearance. Intelligent and intuitive, they
understood far more than their less magical cousins. Sage wheeled around so her
whole body blocked my view of the stable doorway.
“I can still see her, Sage,” a male voice said. The
healer entered the stable and came around the side so he could address me, but
he remained with his back to the outside wall and his face and torso in the
shadows. “I see Sage has imprinted on you.”
Sage huffed and tossed her head at him before nuzzling
my hair as I came around to better see the healer.
“She seems to like me,” I agreed.
He chuckled, low and deep. “She is protecting you from
me. See how she is trying to position herself between us?”
Sage bumped my shoulder with her nose, trying to nudge
me to step back out of sight. I stood firm. She huffed and stamped her foot,
which I ignored.
“I won’t hurt her,” the healer told Sage, who swung her
head toward him and showed her teeth. “Honest.” He offered her his hand. Sage
only eyed him and shifted closer to me. “I owe her an apology.”
I stiffened in surprise. Men didn’t apologize. At least
in my experience, they didn’t. “Apology for what?”
Sage grew still beside me, as though listening.
“For my words back at the clinic. I spoke without
properly assessing the situation and accused you of things that clearly weren’t
true. I am sorry.”
I blinked and peered into the shadows where his features
hid. Did he jest? Was this a ploy to make me appear foolish? “Step into the
light, please.”
“A distrusting creature, aren’t you?” he asked. The
healer stepped forward, so the sunlight fell over his features.
“With good reason,” I replied.
He was tall, but all elves were. Lean-featured with the
changeable silver-blue eyes of his species, he made a striking impression even
before one accounted for his pure white hair. Wild and gleaming silver in the
light, his hair stood out from his head in a disarray of curls as though he had
run his fingers through it a few times. He arched a silvery-gray brow at me
when my gaze fell to his face. “So, you can tell if I am honest if you see my
face when I am speaking? That must be a useful skill. You realize I am an elf.
Lying makes us ill.”
“But you are capable of it,” I pointed out.
He met my assessment openly, eyes flashing silver.
“True. By omission or half-truths, but never outright lies.” He tilted his head
slightly. “And you? Are you honest?”
“I told you the truth.”
“You did,” he admitted.
We stood there, studying each other in silence for a few
moments. His stance remained relaxed, as though we were friends chatting about
the weather. I wondered what he saw in me.
“Are you going to throw me out?” I asked suddenly.
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“Whether or not you want to go.” He crossed his arms
over his chest. “This compound is a haven, a place of healing. If you wish to
remain, you are welcome. If you wish to go, you are free to do so.”
“I wish to stay.” I loved tending the animals, helping
Sina with the housework, nursing patients. “Will you allow me to help with the
patients?”
“That depends.”
I opened my mouth to ask for clarification, but I found him watching me expectantly, as though he knew exactly what I was going to say. I pressed my lips together and lifted my eyebrows instead.
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