Page 38 of Ironling
No one knew what drew Allarion here, nor how he’d come to be so far from the high court of his queen. The fae were known to be led by females, who were jealously guarded by the bigger, more aggressive males. There were stories that the females, while significantly smaller, had wings more beautiful and more delicate than stained glass.
An enigma, Allarion was nevertheless a pleasant enough male—so long as you got over your initial fright. He’d been nothing but polite, if aloof. Hakon had been a little surprised to see him at their celebration, but then, Allarion had been one of the first to arrive here seeking a new life in the Darrowlands.
Clearing his throat, Hakon answered, “Yes, I’ve spoken with Lady Aislinn. I came with her here, she’s back at the Brádaigh estate.”
Nodding once, Allarion said, “I will accompany you back. Iwish to speak with her.”
He said it in that mild way of his, without malice or aggression, but it didn’t stop Hakon’s beast from taking notice. He stood no chance against an ancient fae like Allarion; even so, he looked the male over, assessing the threat.
No harm was allowed to come to Lady Aislinn.
Allarion continued to stand there; his expression hadn’t changed, but there was an expectance to the air now.
Maritza fluttered her wings and moved along to flirt with the dragon Theron and his half-sister Briseis instead while Orek and Hakon said their farewells and congratulations to Varon.
By the time they returned to Allarion, perhaps the most striking thing about the fae, as if the way he exuded magic wasn’t enough, trotted from the forest to join them.
The hairs on the back of Hakon’s neck rose, and he had to put a hand on Wülf’s head to stop his growl.
Dark as the shadows he emerged from was Allarion’s steed—the unicorn Bellarand.
Perhaps even rarer and more mythical than the fae were their terrifying steeds. Larger than the draft horses humans used to pull great loads, sparks seemed to burst from every great hoof-fall as the unicorn stepped forward. With a mane of midnight black and coat as dark as a starless night, the soft light of the meadow seemed to bend around him.
Fangs rested just behind his muzzle, and black sclera nearly obscured the dark red of his irises. The muscles of his great chest and flanks shivered under the velveteen coat. And his horn…
A long, wicked spiral, the horn thrust from the center of his forelock like an obsidian blade, the tip sharper and stronger than any spear or sword.
There were old stories, from when the orcs had first crossed the western seas, of the clans uniting to fight the fae and claim land for themselves. The idea of facing down a chargeof unicorns, enchanted fae blades right behind them…it made Hakon’s stomach curdle.
Nothing could stop, block, or break a unicorn horn.
When the unicorn tossed his head in expectation, all eyes stayed on that horn as it cut through the air.
Orek carefully extended his arm, Darrah all puffed up and holding perfectly still on his shoulders. “Shall we?”
Allarion nodded amenably, as if he and his steed didn’t raise the hackles of every being there.
Hakon patted Wülf again, flattening those hackles. “Not food, either,” he muttered to the mutt.
The walk back to the estate was quick and quiet. The only time Hakon’s pace slowed was to take a look at a little nook of a meadow near the border of the estate. He’d spotted it many times before, but with the uncut gems in his pocket, he observed the lands around the Brádaighs’ with fresh eyes.
He only had a moment to linger—something instinctual told him the unicorn didn’t want him falling behind, where he couldn’t be seen—but it was enough.
The meadow was a beautiful place, blanketed in clover and lined on one side by a tall outcropping. The tree canopy let in enough light for a thicket of blackberry bushes and splashes of blue cornflowers to grow. It was charming, and Hakon could just see his own home there, with a respectable forge on one side and a workshop on the other.
His homestead would be larger than Varon’s, something much more akin to Orek’s house for Sorcha. Hakon’s mate deserved nothing less.
He hurried to catch up with the others, his mind made up and his spirit content. It was a good plot of land; one he’d happily share with a mate.
Work, along with everything else, seemed to stop on theestate as they passed into the courtyard. The many horses being trained or reared nickered at Bellarand in awe, their ears swiveling forward and their long heads bobbing, as if acknowledging a king among beasts.
They’d almost made the house when the front door opened and out walked Lady Aislinn and Sorcha, followed by the knights from Dundúran and the three younger Brádaigh children. All gaped at the fae walking alongside his horned steed.
Even though she smiled in greeting, Sorcha held her arm out to prevent her youngest siblings from drawing any closer to the unicorn.
“Allarion, we haven’t seen you here in some time.”
The fae’s attention settled on Sorcha, and Hakon could feel Orek stiffen beside him.
