Free The Unicorn Thief by R. R. Russell Page A

muttered. He spat on the ground and scanned the forest behind Ben, searching for others.
    â€œCome now, Ackley,” the soldier next to him said. “There is the truce. Perhaps the Westlander is telling the truth.”
    â€œWestlanders telling the truth?” Ackley sniffed.
    â€œI beg your pardon, sir,” Ben said, “but this is Westland. It is you who are guests here.”
    â€œThat’s right. We are Her Majesty’s guests, come at her invitation to attend the grand tournament. As a gesture of goodwill. And to discuss matters of great importance. Matters that could affect our truce.”
    Stolen unicorns. War .
    â€œPerhaps her will is not so good if we are unable to travel under the protection of her invitation, Barlow,” Ackley snarled.
    A high cry pierced the sounds of chaos coming from the Eastlanders’ camp. Wonder. What were they doing to her? What about Twig?
    The one called Barlow nodded. “The prince will not be pleased.”
    â€œExcuse me,” Ben said, “the prince?”
    â€œReynald. The Prince of Eastland. The one they call—”
    â€œThe Boy King,” Ben finished for Barlow.
    â€œThat’s the one,” Barlow said proudly.
    Reynald was a famous rider and fighter. His unshakable stallion, Stone Heart, was just as famous. With his elderly father ailing and too weak to travel, it was Prince Reynald who represented his people. From here to the farthest reaches of the Barrenlands, Reynald was known as the Boy King. What had started out as a term of derision—mocking a young boy too full of himself, as well as a jab at the true ruler of Eastland—was now spoken with a trace of awe, even by those who despised Eastland the most.
    Reynald was not only skilled and intelligent, but he was also ruthless. He had to be. The Eastlanders weren’t known to value mercy, and with his uncle vying to take the throne from his ailing father, the young prince had to show his people that he was a king in the making—a king worth waiting for. And he was here, just on the other side of those trees—with Twig, who’d just barged into his camp.
    ***
    Wonder leaped over the underbrush and into a clearing full of tents, armed men and women, and more unicorns than Twig had ever seen in once place—unicorns that hardly seemed like unicorns at all. Not like Wonder and Indy, and not like Dagger and the wild herd either. Their bodies were the same, their movement only slightly changed by their armor, but their eyes! They were dull gray instead of swirling with quicksilver life.
    â€œStop her!” a soldier shouted.
    â€œTo the perimeter!”
    â€œIt’s a trap!”
    â€œPlease!” Twig cried. “Don’t shoot! It’s just a mistake.”
    But was it? Was Indy here?
    Wonder reared and kicked over a cooking pot. Its contents splashed into the campfire. A tower of steam billowed up, and their pursuers backed off. Wonder bounded off again and came face-to-face with the horn of an Eastland unicorn. The unicorn charged with a cold determination. Wonder shrieked at her own hornless state, dodged, and reared again. Could she fight with nothing but hooves and teeth?
    Wonder charged at one of the tents with a sense of purpose that defied every warning and plea from her rider. Wonder scraped her head against a tent pole, trying to dislodge her horn cap. The horn cap flipped up—just enough to relieve the downward pressure on her horn for an instant. And an instant was all it took for the point of her horn to rise and push its way out.
    Now armed and ready, Wonder turned again to fight. A small, orange-feathered object whizzed through the air. The Eastlanders were done with restraint. Someone had fired. Twig felt Wonder flinch, then the muscles relax underneath her. The strength, the energy, seeped out of Wonder.
    The unicorn crumpled, spilling Twig onto the trampled earth. Twig jumped up, drew her sword, and glared at the