Chapter 29

29

The moment Allarion heard Molly’s news of the earthquake aftershocks being isolated to Scarborough, he bundled up his mate, put her on Bellarand’s back, and they headed for home.

It was one thing to have witnessed a few strange idiosyncrasies himself—the rational part of his mind found ways to explain them away as the oversensitive paranoia of a mated male protecting his home and azai .

It was another to hear that the strangeness existed outside of his own mind. He took no chances with his Molly’s safety—for home they rode, where he knew he could keep her safe. They hadn’t acquired everything she wanted from Mullon, but good cheese and new kinds of wine for him to try could wait.

With one arm banded around Molly’s middle and the other hand on the hilt of his sword, he cast his eyes about, as if enemies lurked behind every tree.

He couldn’t say what agitated him so, only that this strangeness had lingered on the wind some days now. Ignoring it hadn’t made it go away, and now, off of their land, away from their haven, their vulnerability gnawed at him.

If only there’d been more time. If only he’d begun extending his reach beyond the borders of Scarborough. South to the otherly village. Northeast to Mullon.

His inability to guarantee Molly’s safety wedged between his ribs, stabbing at the heart that newly beat. It pained him, this distrust of the open. They’d made this journey many times now and never felt insecure, yet while the rolling landscape was familiar, he couldn’t trust it.

Bellarand cantered down the road, and they met no one on their path. This wasn’t unusual, few ventured out toward Scarborough, as there was a wider, well-traveled route that headed for other southern towns on its way to Dundúran. Still, being alone on the road exacerbated his disquiet.

On that ride back to Scarborough, Allarion agonized over every mile. He’d thought isolating them was the best strategy, that the solitude afforded him more freedoms and opportunities to do what he needed with the land and magic. That may have been true, but on that ride, as the foreboding crept up his spine to agitate his warrior’s senses, he understood that whatever this was, whatever shook the earth and lurked in the trees, he would have to meet it alone.

There were no allies—no warrior brothers-in-arms, none of his siblings, no Maxim, no one.

Old as he was, powerful as he was, there had rarely ever been a time that that truly mattered to him. He was confident he could handle himself and any enemy.

But he wasn’t alone. Not now.

He held something far more precious than all the magic in all the world in his arms. Allarion could feel Molly’s heart racing in his forearm, tucked beneath her breasts. She clung to him, her mouth set in a grim line.

Allarion was proud of the brave mate sat before him; she didn’t tarry or worry or panic but sat straight, body moving with his and Bellarand’s.

He was prepared to do anything for this woman.

So when not one but two fae knights burst from the trees behind them and another down the road, Allarion drew his sword.

Hold on! Bellarand whinnied, waving his horn in a threatening arc.

Rather than stop or slow, the dread-mount put on speed, horn clattering with the unicorn in their way. Allarion’s sword sang through the air, catching the fae knight in his armor. It wouldn’t wound, but he didn’t need it to—just move the warrior and unicorn out of the way.

Molly grunted and curled down onto Bellarand’s back, making herself small as Allarion swung again. The knight caught Allarion’s sword with his own, the mounts circling as their blades clashed in a scream of metal.

“Stop!” another warrior shouted in faethling. “Stop in the name of the Queen!”

Allarion gave them no heed. As Bellarand battled with the other unicorn, horns swiping for vulnerable eyes and tender lips, Allarion used his blade and body to shield Molly.

It wasn’t the lone warrior that worried him—it was being outnumbered by the other two hurrying to surround him.

Away, Bellarand!

Allarion caught the knight’s sword with his own, swirling it out of the warrior’s grip and sending it flying. Bellarand broke away as the foe unicorn lunged, and the fae knight and his dread-mount went toppling into the dirt.

They galloped down the road, dust flying behind them. Bellarand’s black coat rippled as his great muscles catapulted them forward, but Allarion knew they would be pursued every step. A triad of fae knights gave no quarter and no surrender. It was success or death.

He bent low over Bellarand’s withers, flattening Molly beneath him. He could feel her heart racing through her back, and her knuckles were white where they clung to Bellarand’s mane.

Bursts of magic splattered the road around them, and Bellarand screamed in outrage, pivoting to avoid the craters left behind. The two knights in pursuit closed the distance as Bellarand regained his pace, their hands reaching out to grab at Allarion’s cloak.

He unclasped the brooch holding it in place, the velvet sliding over his shoulders. With a flick of magic, he sent it billowing like a great sail into the face of one of the dread-mounts, blinding him.

When the other knight grabbed again for him, Allarion unknotted a saddlebag and threw it at the knight, catching him in the gut. The other saddlebag got left in the dust, lightening Bellarand’s load.

The wind whipped their faces as Bellarand ran, but still the knights pursued. It was miles yet to the northern border of the estate. Too many miles.

I can make it, Bellarand declared.

It hurt to do, but Allarion opened a new pathway in his bond with his mount, thrusting his magic into forging it. It was inelegant and tenuous, scraping across his mind like a blunted knife, but Molly couldn’t hear it when he told Bellarand, One rider is lighter than two.

The unicorn huffed in reluctant agreement, and Allarion could feel Bellarand’s unhappiness with his plan. That was all right; he could be unhappy, so long as he kept Molly safe. She was all that mattered.

They want me, not either of you.

You don’t know that! Bellarand argued.

But he did. With the same surety he’d known that Molly was meant for him, that he picked Bellarand out from the herd as his dread-mount, that he’d stepped onto Scarborough and felt at home, he knew it was him the triad wanted. It was him who’d defied Amaranthe, and it was him who knew where Ravenna was hidden.

Allarion had promised Maxim that he would see this through, to whatever end. And as her mate, he had a duty to ensure the safety of his azai.

Take care of her, my friend.

You’d better live, grumbled Bellarand. She’ll be insufferable if you don’t.

I intend to.

Gathering the reins, he quickly looped them around Molly’s wrists, cinching them together in a loose knot. She could get out of it easily, but it would stop her from trying to jump off until he was clear.

“What’re you doing?” she screeched.

Allarion pressed a quick kiss into her cheek. “Run hard and don’t look back.”

“Allarion, no —!”

He vaulted from Bellarand’s back, suspended in midair as the unicorn and Molly continued down the road. She screamed his name, her distress carrying on the wind, but he made himself deaf to it.

Allarion skidded through the dirt, coming to a stop in a cloud of dust. Drawing the dagger from his belt, he ran back the way they’d come, feet pounding the road to intercept the triad.

Let them come.

Let them see what it is to threaten Allarion Meringor.

“Bellarand! Bellarand, STOP! We have to go back!”

Tears streamed down Molly’s face, made icy pinpricks by the wind that lashed her cheeks. She struggled against the leather knot of the reins, working a hand free, but no matter how she tugged and twisted, the unicorn wouldn’t listen.

“ Bellarand! ”

No, was all he’d say.

Molly screamed and sobbed helplessly, her temper flaring alongside fear for her fae. “We have to help him!” She tugged on the reins again, but they did nothing but tangle in Bellarand’s mane, streaming behind him like a banner as they flew across the countryside.

The wind beat at her cheeks and tore at her eyes, and a steady stream of tears poured down her face. Molly couldn’t stop crying and pleading, but nothing worked. Even driving her heels into the unicorn’s sides as she’d seen other riders do didn’t stop him.

No, he said again—and Molly didn’t imagine the twinge of sadness to his tone.

He didn’t slow, even for corners, so there was nowhere she could safely jump off. She didn’t know what she’d do when she did—tuck and roll and go from there. Allarion needed them, they couldn’t run away!

Don’t you dare! Bellarand thundered. Just hang on.

“We have to go back!” she sobbed more than said.

But Bellarand galloped on—and not to the estate.

Molly grunted when he leapt from the road, cutting through a meadow and up a hillock. Bellarand’s hooves cut through the tall grass, the stalks hitting her like shards. Molly ducked to protect her face, burying it in his mane. Against her lips, she felt how his body shivered with exertion, his pace unforgiving.

Keep low, he commanded, just as Molly thought she heard another set of hooves.

Peeking under her arm, she caught sight of another large unicorn chest, chestnut brown and adorned with a gleaming gold breastplate.

Heart in her throat, Molly kept low over Bellarand’s withers and gave him his head.

The countryside passed them in a blur of colors, almost indiscernible with their speed and Molly’s tears. Her body ached as she was jostled and bounced, but she did her best to move with the unicorn and make herself as small as possible.

Bellarand wove through trees and bounded over roots and logs, kicking up decaying detritus. The air was noticeably damp and cool on her burning cheeks, and Molly shivered.

When they broke through the tree line, it was to catch another road, this one wider and marked on either side with paver stones. As his hooves clattered onto the cleared path, Molly realized where they were—the road south, to Dundúran.

No no no!

“We have to get to Scarborough!” she cried. She didn’t know what she could do there, only that it was home—and where Allarion would go. Imbued with his magic, it was a stronghold. She and the house could—she didn’t know, throw shingles and rotten floorboards, anything to help him!

But Bellarand didn’t respond, not even to tell her no. He leapt forward with every stride, running faster than she’d ever known a beast could run.

Even the other unicorn and fae broke off, unable to keep pace with Bellarand’s blistering gallop.

Molly knew it was no use, but for miles and then hours, she tried to make him turn back. She begged, she pleaded, she threatened.

As the landscape became more familiar, she began to worry about Bellarand, too. His sweat soaked her hands where she clutched to him, and his mane went stringy with it, thick droplets sluicing off as he ran. His black coat rippled under the wan winter sky, but no matter what she said, how she begged, he wouldn’t stop.

The sun raced them, falling to the west as they galloped south. It just touched the tree line as they rounded the bend, Dundúran dominating the horizon.

Bellarand neither slowed nor stopped, barreling through the north city gate and into the cobblestone streets. His hooves clattered, sparks flying beneath them as he ran full tilt. City folk gawped and yelped, some having to dive out of the way of the mad unicorn.

They thundered through the city, everything and everyone jumping out of the way—people, carriages, carts, they all made way for Bellarand the Black.

As they charged through the castle gate, he let out a deafening scream. It echoed across the courtyard, curdling the blood of any who heard.

With one last heave, he crossed the courtyard to the wide steps leading up to the castle. At their foot was where, finally, he came to a skidding stop.

Molly slid off, body quaking with the hours-long ride. Her knees couldn’t bear her weight, and she slumped onto the first step, one of her wrists still caught in the reins. She stared dumbly up at the unicorn, panting and shaking.

Bellarand stood with legs wide apart and locked, barely holding himself up. Foam ringed his lips, and a thick stalactite of saliva drooped from his lolling red tongue. Mane plastered to his neck from sweat, he dropped his great head, utterly exhausted.

She didn’t know why, but the sight of him so drained, trembling after bringing her so far, to safety, had more tears leaking from her eyes. She didn’t think she had any left, but she wept for Bellarand.

Get up.

It wasn’t his voice, nor Allarion’s, but her own.

You have to get up.

Allarion had sacrificed himself.

Bellarand had done his part.

It was time for her to do whatever she had to.

Gathering all the air she could into her lungs, Molly leaned back and screamed, “HELP! SOMEBODY HELP US!”

And she kept screaming, sometimes not even words, just the anguished sound of a woman terrified for her man. She screamed and screamed until hands came around her, bearing her up.

Those hands were green.

She looked up in surprise to see a worried Lord Hakon staring down at her. At his elbow stood Lady Aislinn, her face contorted with concern.

“Molly!” she cried. “What’s happened?”

“Allarion—” Molly croaked.