Luna Brightwood's Arc

Chapter 11 of 22

Prince Silvain shut the door of the hut behind her. The bubble of pale light closed over the roof again. Luna stood in the wet grass of the field with the camera hot against her ribs. Eight small unicorns slept in the braided nest inside. Something had followed her here. She did not know what. She only knew the prince had drawn his sword an inch and let it drop. "Stay in the open," Silvain said. "If it moves, I need to see it move." He walked a slow line between her and the trees. The purple dragon sat on her shoulder. The pale owl watched from a low branch. Neither made a sound. That told her the thing was not close yet. It also told her the thing was patient. She crouched in the grass and thought. She had walked from the courtyard, then flown on the pink unicorn's back over the wet trees. Nothing on foot could have kept up with wings. So whatever tracked her had come another way, or it had already been near the hut and used her arrival as a marker. She turned the camera over in her hands. The lens caught the light. She almost lifted it to the treeline out of habit. She stopped. A branch cracked at the north edge of the field. Silvain did not turn his head. He kept his eyes on the south. "It wants me to look," he said. "Do not look either." Luna kept her face forward. Her heart hit her ribs. The dragon's claws tightened on her shoulder. The owl lifted one wing and set it down. Still no cry. Then she saw it, at the far south edge, low in the grass. Dark scaled hide. Curved horns swept back over a long skull. Purple veins ran under the plates along its spine. It was not moving toward the hut. It was moving toward Silvain's back while his eyes stayed on the north sound. Luna understood in one beat. The noise at the north was bait. The beast was the hunter. It struck when the prince turned. "South," she said. Just the word. Silvain pivoted without asking. His sword came up in the same motion. The Shadow Hornbeast froze mid-step, one clawed foot lifted, its blue and orange eyes fixed on him. For a long second nothing moved. Then it backed into the trees, slow, watching him the whole way, and was gone. The owl called once, sharp and clean. Silvain lowered the sword halfway. He did not sheathe it. "You saw it before I did," he said. "You named it right." He looked at the treeline where the beast had gone. "It will come back. It knows this hut now, and it knows I am the one guarding it." He turned to her. "I need you to keep watching my back. I cannot do both."