Ben strode into the banquet room with his head held high. Twig followed, but she looked down at her slippered feet, at the floor. She felt ridiculous, and her hand was throbbing again. Maybe she should’ve stayed back in the cell. Ben seemed to know his way around here well enough. What did he need her for?
“Lift your head up,” Ben whispered.
Twig flushed and raised her chin. She’d heard that often enough from the Murleys, with their gentle but firm ways of trying to help her be something better, of reminding her that she was made for something better. But would even the Murleys expect her to walk into a queen’s banquet room with her head up? Especially with Neal, the queen’s guard, herding them in with his threatening glare.
But she’d just told Ben that he could do this—not just get through dinner, but really do something, really be who he was. She’d been so scared talking to him, telling him those things. But it seemed like he’d listened, like he was going to try. She couldn’t let him down now.
One step into the room, and Twig didn’t have to worry about keeping her eyes off her feet—they were fixed on the table. The great, long slab of oak was heaped with platters of food, the air thick with a spicy mix of aromas that made Twig’s stomach untwist from its clench of nervousness and growl hungrily.
At the opposite end of the table sat Reynald, the Boy King, flanked by his guards, Ackley and Barlow. Reynald spoke quietly to Ackley. A smile played on his lips. Twig couldn’t help but think it looked devious.
“Your Majesty, Prince Griffin, and Prince Reynald of Eastland,” announced a young man stationed at the door, “may I present Prince Ben and Twig of Lonehorn Island.”
The nonroyals at the table stood. Ben bowed stiffly at his family and Reynald. Twig followed his lead and stumbled into a curtsy. They were shown to their seats, directly across from the queen. Once again, Griffin was seated at his mother’s side.
Twig concentrated on eating while the royal family of Westland made small talk with Reynald about his journey from Eastland.
“I hear you ran into my brother along the way,” Griffin said to Reynald.
Twig glanced at Ben. His smile looked even more forced than before. She hoped he’d keep his cool and think about what she told him earlier. Now that she was here, facing these people, she didn’t know if she’d have the guts to ask the queen for anything either.
“Ye-es,” Reynald said. His eyebrows went up in surprise, and Ben’s face froze.
Ben had told Twig about how he’d asked Reynald to keep quiet about seeing them. But then, because she’d tried to come along, he’d blurted it out to Neal.
Reynald turned on Ben. “I suppose you’ve added your own false accusations to fuel your mother’s fire. I should’ve known I couldn’t trust anyone from this family to keep his word.”
Griffin looked taken aback. He held out his hands in a gesture of peace. “Let’s all just stay calm now. I’m sure no one is accusing anyone of anything.”
But Ben shouted, “I am a man of my word like my father before me!”
Ackley and Barlow began to rise, but Reynald pushed them back. He barked a laugh. It sounded high, like a yippy little dog. “These two were caught in my camp, disguised as royal messengers. Prince Ben claimed to be tracking a stolen unicorn. He threatened to tell you some made-up story about its scent leading him to my camp.”
“Unicorn? What unicorn?” the queen said.
“It’s not made up!” Twig said. “Your Majesty, we don’t know who this unicorn thief is, but he got through the passage to Lonehorn Island. He took Ben’s unicorn, Indy.”
“Twig!” Ben cried.
Twig hurried on before Ben could stop her, before she could lose her courage. “We think Indy got away from the thief, and now he’s in the Death Swamp. Your Majesty, please, you have to help us find him and then you have to change the lock on the passage door. We’ll go back to the island, and I promise I won’t tell anyone about this place.”
The queen’s eyes widened. She regarded Reynald. “You have been trespassing on my island?”
“Her island?” Twig whispered to Ben. “I thought she didn’t care about the island.”
Ben gave her a look. She could tell he was biting back his own outrage not only at Reynald, but at his mother’s claim. But Twig thought she understood. They needed the queen to care right now, even if it was only because of her rivalry with Eastland.
“Another false claim!” Reynald said. “And here I’ve journeyed all this way in order to meet with you and try to prevent war!”
“If the Prince of Eastland wanted to prevent war, he might have instructed his minions not to trespass on my territory, and especially not to steal my best unicorn right out of the castle stables.”
“And if the Queen of Westland wanted to prevent war, she might avoid such outrageous accusations!”
Twig could feel the tension rumbling beneath the silence that followed. She’d made a terrible mistake coming here. She didn’t understand this place, these people, the way Ben did. Who was she to try to give him advice? She should’ve known better. Please, she prayed. Do something. Help us.
***
Ben knew what he had to do. Not because he thought it was what his father would want. Certainly not because it was what his mother or brother would want. Not even because it was what he thought Twig or Merrill would want him to do. He’d cried out in his heart for help, for an answer, and now his heart was pounding with the truth. This time it was up to him. Stand up. Speak up.
He stood up. He opened his mouth, though he had no idea what to say. “What would be the point of war, Prince Reynald, when you cannot fully participate in it?”
Reynald narrowed his eyes at Ben, studying him.
“I have a proposition for you,” Ben said.
“I’m listening.”
“A chance to defeat me. A chance to get back at me and at my mother. A chance to prove yourself against a son of Westland. One of comparable age…and the son of the great Darian too.” Ben barely managed to keep the emotion out of his voice as he said his father’s name. No, as he used his father’s name. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Ben wanted to beg his father for forgiveness, to take it back—but then he saw the look on Reynald’s face.
The spark of interest had bloomed into full-fledged hunger. Hunger for glory and for Ben’s blood.
“Ben!” Twig said. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to duel Prince Reynald—not just any duel—a duel of the flags, through the Death Swamp, just as in the old times.”
The Boy King said, “The victor will be remembered for generations to come.” From the look on his face, he had no doubt he would be that victor. And that was all he cared about. Ben knew this was a dangerous game he was playing. But it just might get Indy back, not to mention put off war with Eastland.
“A Death Swamp Duel?” Twig cried.
The same words were murmured around the table. A smattering of applause broke out among the group. But a look from Griffin sent hands back into laps before the queen could take note of who’d dared thrill to such an idea.
“Your son has offered to settle our dispute with a duel,” Reynald said. “We are of the same age. As fair a match as Westland can make.”
“You are willing to put your life on the line?” Griffin said.
Reynald grinned. “One death instead of thousands. I, too, care for my people and for unicorns.”
Ben resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
Griffin threw his chair back and stood over Reynald. “You are a brash little boy and a show-off! You want nothing but to be the one who killed Darian’s son, and not in battle, in a public spectacle! It’s ridiculous! It’s—”
“That’s enough, Griffin.” Ben moved quickly around the table to stand between them. He turned to Reynald. “As soon as I have my unicorn back, we can proceed with the duel.”
“Ben of the Island, you have a deal, but I know nothing about your unicorn. I suppose you’ll have to borrow another.”
Twig looked ready to dive over the roast duck and across the table. “He couldn’t possibly—”
“He couldn’t possibly go back on our deal just because he doesn’t have his favorite unicorn.” Reynald’s mouth curled up again, the way Ben hated.
A Death Swamp Duel without Indy? Everything without Indy if he didn’t get to him soon. He knew Reynald was telling the truth, but it didn’t matter. His mother would have to let him search for Indy. She wouldn’t want him losing that duel.
“There is no deal. I am Queen of Westland! I have lost my husband over one foolish, outdated notion. I won’t lose my son over another. There will be no duel.”
“Then there will be war,” Reynald said.
“Yes, I’m afraid there will.” The queen’s words were coated with ice.
“I gave my word!” Had she lost all sense of pride? He’d been counting on that, blast it all! It was all he could ever count on from her. Ben looked Reynald right in the eye. “I will keep it. For the people of Eastland and Westland. For the thousands of unicorns that will die if I don’t.”
Reynald nodded, an eager gleam in his eye. He and his escorts excused themselves from the table, leaving the Westlanders.
“Ben.” His mother said his name so tenderly. Like he was her little boy again. Her eyes brimmed with hurt. He wanted to make it go away. He wanted to make her happy. He took a step closer to her. “Mother, I’m going to find Indy, my unicorn. There is no match for him. Not even Prince Reynald’s famous stallion, Stone Heart. You’ll see. Everything will be all right.”
She shook her head. Her gaze turned cold again. A cold that trickled through Ben’s chest, then stuck like a lump of ice, accidentally swallowed.
“Neal,” she said, “take them back.”