“So you’ll go to Eldagh,” he said finally. “Live among thieves and murderers because it’s better than living under Durand’s laws?”
“I’ll go to Eldagh,” I corrected, “because it’s the one territory where a woman without family can own property and work. Where magic isn’t punishable by death. Where I might, gods willing, build some kind of life for myself.”
And perhaps for my beasts, if they still wanted me after the curse was broken, and if they weren’t needed at their castle. Oh, that bothered my heart. The thought sent a fresh wave of anxiety through me, mixing with the worry of their survival through all this. The unicorn responded to with a soft whicker of reassurance, promising me that whatever aid it could offer, it would.
“But you’d be alone.” Alain’s words were barely above a whisper. “Without protection.”
I stared at him, incredulity momentarily replacing my irritation. “Protection? Like Gaspard’s? Or the tower room with doubled guards? That kind of protection?”
“That’s not fair,” he protested. “I admitted I was wrong to—”
“Life isn’t fair,” I cut him off. “Especially not for women. Especially not for women with actual power. So yes, I’ll take my chances with Eldagh’s thieves over Durand’s justice any day.”
Alain opened his mouth, clearly ready to argue further, and something inside me snapped. I was tired. Bone-deep, soul-wearingly tired of explaining myself, of justifying my existence, of tolerating men who thought they knew better than I did about my own life.
I just wish a wind would carry him away for a while,I thought with intense frustration, not directing the thought at anything or anyone in particular.Just give me five blessed minutes of silence.
The forest responded.
One moment, Alain was riding beside me, his face a storm of conflicted emotions. The next, a small whirlwind no wider than a man’s outstretched arms, formed directly beneath his horse.The mare whinnied in alarm but stayed rooted to the spot as the swirling air lifted Alain clean off her back. He yelped, arms windmilling comically as the whirlwind carried him upward, depositing him rather unceremoniously on a thick branch about fifteen feet above the forest floor.
“Isabeau!” he called down, his voice somewhere between accusation and question, fingers clutching the branch with white-knuckled intensity. “What in the seven hells just happened?”
My hands flew to my mouth, horror and amusement battling for dominance. “I—I didn’t mean to,” I managed, though that wasn’t entirely true. I had wished for it, just not consciously directed my magic to make it happen. “I’m sorry!”
The unicorn beneath me made a strange huffing sound that I could have sworn was laughter. Its sides shook slightly, and its head dipped in what looked suspiciously like mirth.
“Are you laughing?” I whispered to it, too quietly for Alain to hear.
It tossed its glorious mane in what could only be interpreted as affirmation.
“Isabeau!” Alain called again, more urgent this time. “Get me down from here!”
I closed my eyes, trying to center myself. The forest’s magic thrummed all around me, more responsive than ever before. I had forgotten how sensitive it was to my emotions, to my desires now that it had fully awakened. The claiming mark on my shoulder pulsed warmly, as if my beasts were somehow aware of what had just happened.
“Tree,” I said hesitantly, feeling a little foolish for talking to a plant but not knowing what else to try. “Please bring him down. Gently.”
For a terrifying moment, nothing happened. Then the branch Alain sat on began to lower, bending against nature until itdeposited him safely on the ground beside his mare, which had watched the proceedings with remarkable calm for a normal horse.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, sliding off the unicorn to stand before him. “I didn’t mean to do that. I just—I was frustrated, and I thought about how nice it would be if a wind carried you away for a bit, and the forest just... responded.”
Alain brushed leaves and bark from his clothes, his expression unreadable. “You mean to tell me,” he said slowly, “that you accidentally conjured a whirlwind because you wanted me to stop talking?”
Put that way, it did sound rather extreme. “I don’t have complete control yet,” I admitted. “The magic seems to flow directly from thought to action sometimes, without my conscious direction.”
“You thought about me being carried away.” His voice was flat.
“Just for a little while,” I said weakly. “For some peace and quiet.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched. For a moment, I thought he might be truly angry. And who could blame him? I’d just magically tossed the son of the king into a tree because I found his questions annoying.
But then the corner of his mouth quirked up. “Next time,” he said, “you could just tell me to shut up.”
The tension broke. A laugh bubbled up from somewhere deep inside me, unexpected and genuine. “Would you have listened?”
“Probably not,” he admitted, his own laugh joining mine. “I’ve been told I’m rather persistent.”
“Stubborn as a mule, more like.” I smiled, relief washing through me that he wasn’t furious.