Page 92 of Faeling
The unicorn stallion watched him, his head turned round to pierce Vallek with an eerie liquid amber gaze. He chuffed, tapping Vallek on the shoulder with his horn.
Vallek held perfectly still, ancient instincts to protect his vulnerable bits against that wicked horn riding him hard. Unfazed was his little hellion, though, who merely patted his chest.
“Oberon says I’m your problem for the night.”
He blinked, looking back and forth between his sleepy mate and the unicorn, who Vallek couldn’t help feeling was expecting something from him.
“You can…talk with him?”
“Unfortunately.” She tapped her temple. “In here. Thanks to the bond he forged with my father.” A thought seemed to come to her. “There’s a chance you might start to hear him, too, actually.”
Vallek’s face paled at the prospect, which only made her snort with giggles. She immediately regretted it, hugging her ribs, but couldn’t seem to stop laughing.
Oberon dipped his big head, nipping at her with his lips. They seemed to tease each other, and through the affectionate display, Vallek craned his head this way and that to avoid getting an eye taken out by the waving horn.
“Stop making me laugh,” she groaned.
It was a surreal scene, but Vallek decided to be charmed by it. The love between Ravenna and her father’s mount was obvious. That the stallion had not only followed her deep into orcish territory but actually went east and back again to watch over her…Vallek had only the greatest respect for that.
“Thank you for her,” he told the stallion.
Oberon lifted his head again, piercing Vallek with the full intensity of his unnatural gaze. The stallion regarded him seriously for a long moment, taking Vallek’s measure. To have such a dangerous, ancient being look him over from head to toe had a shudder following in its wake.
Ravenna suddenly let out an exasperated puff of air. Apparently, there was something of an argument going on between the two.
“What does he say?”
Grumbling under her breath, she finally admitted, “I told you so.”
Neighing merrily, Oberon shook out his long mane, the color of starlight. Dipping his head, he pawed the earth again before turning and leading the other unicorns back into the forest.
Vallek watched them go, utterly baffled.
“You’ll get used to him,” Ravenna said, easy as could be.
He gave her a horrified look, mostly to make her laugh again, but he’d be a liar if he said he wasn’t at least mildly perturbed by the notion.
Having a faeling mate would come with many challenges. He just hadn’t imagined one of them being making nice with unicorns.
He wasn’t alone in feeling a bit more at ease with the unicorns gone, those of his staff nearby noticeably relaxing as they went through the familiar motions of building camp.
When his tent was erected, he called for a divan to be set out for Ravenna. He placed her upon the cushions gently and turned her over to Fenna’s continued care. Vallek lingered, loath to let her out of his sight, but Fenna eventually shooed him away.
“You go do your work and I’ll do mine. She’ll be right as rain in no time.”
He might not have believed it had anyone else said it, but Fenna had taken care of him and his sisters for decades. An old friend of their long-departed mother, Fenna watched over them with the domineering care of a mother hen, and despite her advancing age, never missed the chance to travel with an official royal party.
“Keeps the old bones moving,”she liked to say.
Content that his mate would be well cared for and was as comfortable as he could make her, he indeed went out to see to anything he could find to do. Mostly, though, walking amongst his people, he took the opportunity to gauge their moods. Able to speak more privately to him, he knew his berserkers at least wouldn’t be too shy to tell him their real feelings.
A few avoided his gaze or merely nodded, but no more than he was expecting. Several reached to take his hand, congratulating him. Others stopped him to ask if Ravenna truly was the human soothsayer they’d become accustomed to.
The first true hostility he met was from the handful of representatives from the eastern tribes. One from the Iron-Chest tribe scowled sourly, demanding, “What does this mean?”
“That she will be your queen.”
The orc’s upper lip curled. “First a king and now a faeling queen? What is the world coming to?”
