CHAPTER TWO

A thunder of hooves rumbles behind me, and my lips pull back from my tusks in a grin. I guessed right. I stormed out of Moon Blade Village yesterday, determined to find a new place in the world.

But I didn't let frustration cloud my judgment. Instead, I let it drive my feet forward, each step carrying me closer to this—the moment I'd take up my new position.

The path I walk winds through dense pine trees, barely wide enough for two to ride abreast. An opening in the canopy ahead lets golden sunlight pour down, and the shady home of ferns gives way to dense clumps of blackberry bushes, their ends heavy with a mix of unripe red fruit and those already darkened to glistening purple-black readiness. My mouth waters, imagining their tart sweetness, but the bushes will serve me in a different way today.

The overhead sun warms the top of my head as I halt in the narrowest part of the trail and school my expression to seriousness. I spin around right as the first unicorn comes into view, tall in the shoulders and with a wicked horn spiraling out of its forehead. One of the orcs of the king's guard rides the great beast, a strong woman with sharp eyes that narrow on me as her mount comes to an abrupt halt.

More riders spill out of the trail behind her, spreading across the small opening under the shade of the trees. I search their number, wondering if Branikk's among them. I'd be happy for my friend—he's an excellent hunter, and even the king needs to eat—and we'd talked of being guards together. Yet at the same time, a sour hint of discontent twists through me as I imagine my father sneering that even in this I came second.

But all of these orcs are strangers, and no one looks particularly friendly. Their assessing glances make resolve harden within me. They don't remember me from their visit to the village, but why would they? I'm simply one warrior of many. I'm not the warlord.

I'm not Dravarr.

I fight down a grimace. It's been the story of my whole damned life, not being Dravarr. I'm sick of it. That's what today's all about—finding something that's mine, without any need for comparison.

"Why are we stopping?" a peeved female voice says. The largest of the unicorns pushes through the rest, snorting and tossing her head, one icy blue eye spearing into me. "Who's this?"

"It's one of the warriors from Moon Blade Village." King Aldronn pats his mount's withers. A few years older than me, his long hair is still the inky black of a man in his prime. Dressed like anyone else in leather pants and a fitted linen tunic, he carries a sword at his hip, the leather scabbard a twin to mine. He's a normal size for an orc, seven-feet tall and thick with muscle. Even though he could blend into a crowd of orcs based on looks alone, a heavy sense of presence surrounds him, a mixture of responsibility and command. Orcs might not go in for all the finery and jewels our cousins the elves drape themselves with, but there's no doubt he's our king.

"I'm Krivoth, your Majesty." I tip my head and wait for him to give me leave to look up—offering the deepest sign of respect an orc can give.

"You want something," he says, cutting right to the chase.

"Only to serve you." I meet his eyes. "I would join your guard."

"If you're so worthy to join us, where's your mount?" The unicorn turns her head from side to side, pretending to look for something. "Do they hide?"

My teeth grind together. She's not stupid. She sees the pack on my back, the indentations of my footsteps in the pine-needles covering the ground. Even without those hints, her senses would tell her no scent of strange unicorn hangs in the air.

The other unicorns snort in amusement.

"I have no mount." A familiar anger burns in my chest, and I scowl. "But I go to find one."

King Aldronn slides to the ground with the easy familiarity of an expert rider. "Walk with me."

"My King," the female orc protests.

He lifts a hand. "It will be well."

We cut through the blackberry thicket to the shade of the trees waiting on the other side. We're still in view of the others, but far enough to speak without being overheard, even by superior orc and unicorn hearing.

"It isn't an easy thing, being one of my guard. We travel constantly. Elmswood Keep might as well not even be my home—I spend less time there than in the various villages." The king turns to face me, his gaze assessing. "It will be quite some time before we return to Moon Blade Village, before you see your friends and family."

"That will not be a problem," I say.

My father's face fills my mind, the way he sneered when Dravarr returned with a moon bound bride. "Look at you, boy," he spat. "You lost out on being named warlord, and now you're not the one the goddess chose for a moon bound bride. What good are you?"

I fight down a snarl and raise my chin, shaking off the past to focus on the king. "I need a new challenge."

His eyes search my face, and I have no idea what he's thinking. King Aldronn wouldn't have heard a whisper of my father's derision for me when he visited the village. Even the other villagers don't know. Father's careful like that, dripping his spiteful words into my ear in private. Only my friend Branikk and my sister Gerna know, but she's Father's golden child, so she wavers between sympathizing with me and her love for our remaining parent.

The king claps a hand to my shoulder. "I have a special quest for you, Krivoth. Once you've partnered with a unicorn, go to Skular Woods and bring me back several violet trifolia."

Violet trifolia? "What is that, My King?"

"It's a plant that grows three purple berries in a cluster that forms a triangle. The dragons have told us how to use it to make an antidote for deathsleep." His lips press into a thin line. "We may have defeated the sluagh once, but that will only make them more willing to use their vile potions."

I nod. Deathsleep put all fae but the sluagh into a hundred-year coma. It's a cowardly weapon but also far too effective. As an herbalist, Gerna could make a complex tincture to help wake someone, but only if they didn't get a full dose. Having watched her work over the years, I understood better than most how important this new antidote would be.

"I will do it. I will find this violet trifolia."

"Good." His hand squeezed my shoulder. "Bring it straight to Elmswood Keep as soon as you have it."

"My King, I will not fail you." I tip my head in a bow.

Excitement swirls in my chest. I'll become one of the king's guard, no matter what it takes.

I'll become someone so important that my father and my whole village will look on me with pride.

When I finally break through the last of the pine trees two days later, the Umbriall Plains open wide before me in rolling green grasslands topped by a cheerful blue sky tinting to orange on the western horizon as the sun sinks, heralding evening.

I hitched a ride with the king's party, and they carried me as close to my destination as possible before parting ways, leaving me with a map and a renewed sense of purpose.

My quest will only be possible if a unicorn agrees to be my mount. No one partnered with me the two times I tried before, but I was a different man then, determined to be warlord and lead my clan. Now I'm someone new, not tied to one small village. I'll attract a different mount, one who wants to travel—one who wants to be part of a grand quest.

I strike out over the plain, leaving the cover of the forest behind. The breeze tugs at my clothes more forcefully, no longer impeded by trees, even as the sound of wind through branches softens to the sigh of wind over grass. The tall flexible blades ripple like waves, first deep green, then showing flashes of silver underbellies, like foam crests rising to the top of water.

It feels almost as if I've stepped into a different world. The pine scent of the forest gives way to the softer green smell of grass. Even the birdsongs change, the meadow wrens singing their long warbling cries as their tiny round bodies fly home to nests hidden in the tall grass.

A lone ash tree stands on a distant hill, and I aim for it. Once upon a time, it had acted as a doorway to other parts of Faerie. But even if those no longer work, climbing the tree will still offer me a good way to spot a herd of unicorn.

Movement flashes in the distance, then again. A herd breaks over a hill, the sound of their hooves drumming against the ground. It seems I won't need to climb the tree after all. I stand still, and they surge past me, barely swerving, as if they're water barely parted by a rock in a river. They're so close whispers of air currents from their passage flutter my clothes. It's a test, but I'm a warrior. I do not fail, standing my ground, my legs planted strongly without the least quiver of fear.

They wheel around and gallop back, sliding to a halt in a circle around me, every horn pointed in my direction.

"Orc," the male directly in front of me asks, his voice hard, "why have you come onto our lands?"

"I invoke the treaty that exists between our peoples. I seek a travel partner." My hand falls to my sword hilt. "I am a warrior of the Moon Blade Clan, and I am on a quest for my king."

"What care we for orc quests?"

"It is one that will also aid unicorns. I seek a plant that can counter the sluagh's deathsleep herb. When we find it, both our peoples will benefit."

The leader snorts. "Bah, the soul stealers. One of your kind already brought them to our lands."

"Dravarr did that, along with his moon bound bride, Ashley." I tip my head in agreement. "But no harm came to yours, and I was one of the orcs who defeated that group of sluagh." It had been the fiercest battle of my life, when ogres and the soul stealers attacked my village, wanting the human witch enough to take the risk.

The unicorns shift, looking at each other, their ears swiveling, their tails flicking. They're talking to one another using body language, and even though I've been touched by the magic of the speaking stone that allows all the various fae to speak to one another, I can't tell what they're saying.

"We will confer." The leader stomps the ground. "You will camp here tonight."

I fight down triumph. It might not be a yes, but it's also not a no.

Sleep refuses to find me as I lay on my furs, one hand behind my head, and gaze up at the stars, so many stars. The sky never looks like this in the forest. Here, it's all-consuming, spreading across my entire vision, a blanket of purple-black spangled with glittering dots of silvery light. Not even the distant dots of pixies disrupt the view—the tiny winged fae prefer forests to field.

I'm glad I spread my tent flat as a ground cover instead of erecting it.

Faint footsteps sound as a hunting fox pads close, approaching the unicorns. These are the warriors of the herd, and the grumpy bunch of them rest standing, legs locked and splayed, uneasy to have me here even though our peoples have a peace treaty. They shift and snort, and the fox veers off. The regular animals of Alarria have learned to be wary of the Wild Fae, even those with an animal form.

It's dark without a moon to light the night. I should sleep.

Yet the moment my eyes flutter shut, bright light flashes over me, and a haunting melody thrums through the air.

I leap to my feet as a moon forms in the sky, lowering to hover in front of me in a pulsing ball of brilliant white shot through with flashes of silver and blue.

The Moon Goddess, come to me and only me. This is a summoning like the stories tell happened centuries ago. Only two orcs have received one in recent weeks, ones the goddess chose to bless with a bride.

My heart leaps in my chest, pounds against my ribs, ready and eager as excitement vibrates through my body.

The goddess' great magic hums across my skin, raising the hair on the back of my neck and making my tusks ache. The music grows louder, almost forming words. It feels as if I could understand this celestial song if only I strained harder.

The ball condenses, swirling ever faster. Then it flies toward me, splashing across my eyes in a burst of white and knowing.

I'm summoned! I'm special.

I have a moon bound bride!