It had been so long since Ben had seen Merrill ride—really ride. The unicorn stallion looked steady and proud, as did his rider. Merrill pulled Marble back at the driveway gate and waited. The unicorn was looking well—very well.
“Twig!” Ben called over his shoulder as he ran for the gate. “He’s here! It’s Merrill!”
Merrill dismounted and walked Marble through the gate. The unicorn sniffed and called out to the stable. A chorus of greetings from Wonder, Indy, and Bounce replied. A smattering of nervous pony whinnies joined the mix.
Merrill tipped his head toward the stable, listening with the trained ear of a lifelong herder. “You have another unicorn in there, Ben-boy?”
“We took Bounce in,” he said. “She’s still healing.”
“Merrill!” Twig reached them, out of breath. She brushed the stray, wet blond hair out of her face. “Is everything all right? What are you doing here?”
“Don’t worry, Twig-girl. Things are going to be just fine, I think. Thought it was about time I met these ranch Murleys. Besides”—his smile wobbled a little—nervously?—as he gave Marble a pat—“this isn’t my only surprise.”
“He’s all better!” Twig exclaimed.
But Ben said, “What do you mean?”
Before Merrill could answer, Mr. Murley emerged from the stable.
“Ben? Is this…”
Ben nodded. “Merrill, this is my uncle, David Murley.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Murley.”
The men shook hands. Mr. Murley grinned, his face animated with boyish curiosity.
Merrill’s smile was of a different sort. He looked at Mr. Murley from one angle and then the other. “I’m sorry.” The old herder cleared his throat. “There’s a resemblance, you know. To Darian.”
There was? Ben had never really thought about it, but then, he’d been accustomed to seeing Mr. Murley when Father was still alive. When he and his father were secretly keeping an eye on the ranch.
“I wish we could’ve met. He must have been a fine man to raise this boy. We all love Ben.”
Ben ducked his head and tried not to cry. Why? Why did Mr. Murley’s kind words make him feel even more lost?
“Merrill, why don’t you come in and meet my wife and the rest of the girls?”
By the time Ben helped Merrill settle Marble in one of the pasture shelters, the porch was full of girls, watching in fascination.
Ben shot Merrill an apologetic look, but he smiled warmly as he shook each girl’s hand.
He pulled off his wet woolen cap as he greeted Mrs. Murley. “Thanks for taking in this boy, feeding him something decent for a change.”
“I eat decent!” Ben protested.
“Mrs. M’s food is better than decent,” Janessa said. “You’ll see. It’s almost lunch. You can stay for lunch, can’t you, Mr. Merrill?”
“Yes!” Twig said. “We’re having chicken and dumpling soup. You have to stay.”
“Well, that’s up to—”
“Of course,” Mrs. Murley said. “Come in and get dry, and we’ll all have lunch.”
***
Lunch had been eaten, and Twig sat around the table with Ben and Merrill and the rest of the family, sipping hot chocolate—her suggestion. Merrill wiped an extra mustache of whipped cream from his face. Casey giggled, and Merrill gave her a wink.
The old herder slipped his hand into his coat and drew out a piece of paper. “I have a letter for you, David. And Laura.” He nodded at Mrs. Murley. “It’s from the boy’s mother.”
“What?!” Ben almost dropped his mug of hot chocolate.
Twig spat a mouthful back into her cup.
“It seems she has more to say about this duel of yours.”
Mr. Murley took the letter and unfolded it in front of Mrs. Murley.
Mrs. Murley brought her hand to her mouth. She looked up at Ben. “This is signed, ‘Her Majesty, the Queen of Westland.’”
“That’s her,” Merrill said matter-of-factly.
Ben was silent. Mr. Murley turned his questioning look to Twig.
She nodded. “Ben’s a prince.” She spoke quietly, but that didn’t make it less noticeable. Janessa squealed with excitement.
“Not the crown prince,” Ben said.
“That’s his brother, Griffin.”
“You have a brother?” Regina said.
“He’s too old for you.” Twig gave her a poke.
“He’s no good anyway!”
“Ben!” Twig said.
“Blast Griffin!” Ben stuffed his fists under the table. He looked just about ready to bash something.
Janessa and Casey gasped. The Murleys and Merrill joined Twig in giving Ben looks of disapproval.
“Sorry,” Ben muttered. “Not good enough for any of you, anyway.”
Regina grinned at that. She batted her thick, dark eyelashes. Twig kicked her under the table, hard this time.
“Ow!”
“Girls,” Mrs. Murley warned. We have guests, her look reminded them.
Mr. Murley cleared his throat. “Let’s see what…Her Majesty…has to say. And then maybe Ben can explain how a Murley came to be a prince of Westland.” Mr. Murley’s smile shook a little with the strangeness of it.
“I’m not surprised a Murley would be royalty,” Taylor said.
Mandy rolled her eyes.
Mrs. Murley picked up the letter. “She says, ‘I understand that you are relatives of my late husband, Darian—may his soul soar with the spirits of unicorns—and that you have taken in my wayward son, Ben.’”
Mrs. Murley hesitated at the word wayward. She glanced at Ben.
He was steaming mad, and Twig couldn’t help being angry on his behalf. “She’s the one who’s wayward. Her men did this to my hand. And she put us in the dungeon!”
There were gasps all around the table. Oh no. Stupid Twig. She’d said too much.
“What is that, another one of Casey’s stories?” Regina snorted. Mandy gave her own scornful laugh.
But Casey said, “The dungeon!” and looked like she was going to cry.
“Ben?” Mrs. Murley said.
“It’s true,” said Merrill. “But go on, please. Read the letter. Then Ben and I will explain the rest.”
What would be left to explain? The queen would tell the Murleys to stop Ben from going to the Death Swamp. She’d ruin their plans. She might even insist they send him back. And she was Ben’s mother. The Murleys might not send him back to her, but they wouldn’t go against his mother’s wishes to let him do something she said would endanger his life.
“Don’t listen to her!” Twig banged her fist on the table. “She wants war with Eastland.”
“Twig,” Mr. Murley said, “I don’t know where all that is coming from, but this is what Ben’s mother says: ‘I know my son and how determined he can be. So like his father, with his noble ideas. So we will let him ride into the Death Swamp. He may not win his duel, but I assure you, no harm will come to him. I will see to that.’”
“What?”
“She’s negotiated a slight change in the terms of the duel with the Prince of Eastland. Each dueler will have one companion. An adult, to make sure they’re safe.”
“Who?”
“One of her guards, she says.”
Someone like Neal. Twig exchanged looks with Ben.
Why? Why had she changed her mind? Why had she written to help convince the Murleys to let Ben go?