silver, if silver were somehow transparent. The horn was set in the middle of the unicorn's wide forehead, between its large dark eyes, and seemed to drink in the moonlight from the air around it and glow with a blue light that came from within. It was spiral-shaped, like the narwhal-teeth the Selken-folk sometimes brought to the City for sale, but where they were blunt, the unicorn's horn tapered to an elegant point sharper than any needle…
'If you're quite through staring,' the unicorn said acerbically, 'I believe we need to get on with this.'
Kellen blinked, then stumbled back in alarm. While he'd been gawking in awestruck wonder, the unicorn had walked right up to him and stopped, close enough to reach out and touch. Its eyes were on a level with his own— deep fathomless pools of spring green, fringed with long thick silver lashes. Its small elegant ears flicked back and forth as it spoke, signaling amusement—or was it annoyance?
'Well,' the unicorn said. 'You know why I'm here, Wildmage.'
Finally it seemed as if Kellen was able to think again, and not just stare. Not only a unicorn—but a talking unicorn. It was too much to comprehend all at once. 'You're—going to get me out?' Kellen suggested feebly. 'Of the City lands?' he added, stammering.
'Yes, but—you know why J am here,' the unicorn said implacably.
Kellen suddenly remembered something he'd read about unicorns and felt himself blushing hotly. Unicorns only came to virgins. A virgin could tame a unicorn; non-virgins got skewered if they approached too closely or threatened one.
'There is a price for my help, and it is this: that you will remain chaste and celibate—you do know the difference?' the unicorn asked, interrupting itself.
There was a pause. Kellen realized that the unicorn was waiting for him to answer. Fortunately his lessons with Undermage Anigrel had been of some use, and he did know the difference. Celibate meant simply that he wouldn't marry. Chaste meant that he also wouldn't have sex, or engage in sexual or erotic practices of any sort. He nodded, swallowing hard to cover his embarrassment at the topic of the conversation.
'—for a year and a day from now,' the unicorn finished. 'If you break this promise…' It lowered its head and brandished its horn meaningfully. The tip—just as sharp as it had looked—whispered against the front of Kellen's tunic, barely touching it, below the belt line.
Up this close, now that he wasn't just dazzled by its eldritch beauty, Kellen could see that the unicorn was male. Its implication was clear: break his promise, and he wouldn't be any longer. Well, he hadn't had any trouble staying a virgin until now, and it didn't seem like a price that would be particularly difficult to pay—or one that would hurt other people if he paid it.
You can still back out, a small voice inside him said.
'I… yes. Okay. I agree,' Kellen said quickly.
'Then by the blood you have sacrificed, Wildmage, you are bound by your vow,' the unicorn said formally. 'Now get on my back—quickly. We have a long way to go before sunrise.' It turned sideways, lashing its tufted tail just like an impatient cat.
Awkwardly, Kellen stepped forward. He was worried about hurting it— it was so small, so graceful, and thinking about getting on its back was like thinking of riding a deer, or a foal—but refusing to do as the unicorn asked was impossible now, and Kellen had to suppose it knew what it was doing. With only a little difficulty, he managed to scramble onto its narrow back. The thick fur was just as soft as a cat's fur—and just as slippery. Feeling the flex of its muscles between his thighs, Kellen realized the unicorn was much stronger than it looked.
It was also much harder to stay aboard than any horse Kellen had ever ridden, bareback or otherwise. Kellen began sliding sideways on the oil-slick fur just as the unicorn went from a dead stop to a full-out running plunge into the forest. He grabbed at its mane, but found no handholds in the short coarse bristles, and barely managed to fling himself forward and wrap his arms around the unicorn's slender neck in time to keep from falling off altogether as the creature broke into a clearing.
Its fur smelled like cinnamon.
If he'd thought about riding a unicorn at all—and he hadn't—Kellen would have imagined that it would gallop like a horse.
It didn't.
Once it reached its top speed, the unicorn bounded like a deer in full flight—not that Kellen, child of the City, had ever seen a deer except in carefully tended City parks—launching itself directly into the deepest part of the forest. It bounded over fallen logs and through thickets, occasionally running flat-out for a minute or two before gathering itself to spring into the air once more. Every time it sprang forward, Kellen thought he'd slide right off the back, and when it landed, he nearly broke his nose on the unicorn's neck.
Speed seemed to be its only concern. It paid no attention to the branches that whipped and tore at Kellen's flesh and clothing, lacerating him as if he were running a gantlet of riding-crops wielded by sadistic riders. He buried his face in the unicorn's neck, low against its shoulder, to protect his eyes, and was very glad he had—brambles plucked at his arms and legs, ripped his clothing, tore at his hair, and once, for one terrifying moment, the hood of
