to your rooms with an elf instead of your mate!”
“Don’t listen to that goblin. You know how their race is… Always conniving liars and backstabbers. They are not like the civilized long-lived races. They are not like us, unicorn. He’s just trying to trick you to get you to leave your mate. He wants her. He’s always wanted her, and you know that!”
I stare at the goblin, my fur prickling. King Varthal is correct. That male has been interested in my mate since the very first day. He would not part from our company because of her and only her! My lips pull back savagely from my teeth as I rumble in warning.
Grimsal stares at me and shakes his head. “This is strange. This isn’t like you at all. It’s like you’re caught in a dream… or… a spell. That’s it! Wake up, Eliph!” he shouts as he races toward me.
I draw back in surprise at his sudden attack and instinctively reach for my fetch form. The air ripples around me, but it doesn’t matter; I fight through it as my magic contorts my muscle and bone. Any pain is worth protecting my mate!
My fetch form feels like its bursting out of my skin, but I push through the agony and leap forward a short distance before rearing up. I strike out with my hooves in immediate promise of death, warning the goblin not to get any closer.
Confusion swamps my senses when he slides to a stop and lets out a wild laugh. “That’s it! You can hear me now! Hear me: our minds are bonded, remember? You know my truth. You can feel me and hear my words penetrating through whatever enchantment you’re under.”
Like a spotlight, his word pierce deep into my mind. I can hear him speaking, his words about my mate and some kind of illusion. I shake my head, but everything around me begins to crumble as I look around in a panic. The colors bleed and tear in my mind, finally settling into normal hues once more. The king glares at me from where he stands in front of his throne, the rose garden enchantment on the room becoming brighter and clearer as it was meant to look to those not under another’s influence. I turn my head to my mate, and I shout out with despair and prance away from the elf at my side as she wilts.
“No!” a voice growls. “This is not possible! A unicorn doesn’t have the bond with anyone other than his mare!”
Rage fills me at those words and the familiar bite of the voice. The guardian of the gate. He squeezes the tip of my horn between his fingers, his magic flaring through it. So that is how he did it and his purpose for desiring the bit of my horn. Not as an honor marking as some keep them, nor to be used in healing magic to empower some particular spell in the future. He’s using it directly against me, to control me.
Unfortunately, my movements are still sluggish as I push back against his magic with my own, my grip on reality firmly anchored in the goblin behind me as I round on the treacherous elf. My horn tip pulses brighter, and I feel a crippling pain course through me that nearly makes me drop to my knees. I don’t stop—I continue to struggle forward, my hooves drawing up and striking every few feet in my frustration.
With my head down, I jab my horn toward elves who attempt to approach me, though they are few as most have fled the reception room. One male who gets too close gets gored deep in the side when I swing my head defensively. The gatekeeper is withdrawing behind the guards as he continues to shake his head.
“This is not possible,” he reiterates. “You are ours. That is the whole purpose behind saving you from the hunt and bringing you within our walls. We were able to bargain with the fairies in exchange for you and your remaining magic. You have no power here. I own you and all of your magic with this!” he shouts, spittle flying from his mouth.
I bellow in denial and charge forward only to be hit with a blast of magic rooting me to the spot. My sides heave as I swing my head and fight against the compulsion. They will die. The guardian and the king were fated to no longer be among the living from