Twig eyed the swamp-filled gap in the boardwalk. “Should we try to get back up on that side of the boardwalk and head back to Westland?”
“No. We owe Eastland an apology. Griff.” Ben gestured for his brother to ride behind him, and they headed toward the Eastland entrance.
They’d survived the Death Swamp, and something even darker had been uncovered amid the muck and the rot—secrets that should never have been. For Ben, new pain on top of the old. And for Twig, painful old memories, bubbling up again. If Griffin had only told Ben what he wanted…
Ben never had a chance to know who his brother really was. And Twig was keeping the same kind of secret from her dad. But what choice did she have?
At the end of the boardwalk, Reynald was waiting. Waiting, and holding the flag of Eastland. “Come with me,” he said.
They followed him out of the swamp. The Eastlanders and Westlanders had swapped sides to wait for their duelers to emerge. The Westlanders called out and clamored and pointed as they appeared. Among them, a large, muddy figure stood out—Neal had made it out of the swamp alive after all. Twig almost felt sorry for him, having to come out of the swamp and tell the queen both of her boys were still in there, missing. His hair was scorched, his clothing in shreds.
Twig saw the queen’s anxious expression melt into relief at the sight of her sons. But soon she took on the confused look of all the others. What were both duelers doing here? Why did Reynald have his own flag and not Westland’s?
In front of the onlookers, Reynald rode over to Ben. He held out the flag. “Take it,” he said.
“But I didn’t win.”
“You saved my life. You earned this flag. I’ll best you some other time—or, even better, in a few years, I’ll best the new King of Westland.”
A glint of new malice burned amid the gratitude. “But perhaps that’s not fair, Griffin. You are a son, first and foremost. I suspect you were just doing what you were told.” Boldly, he turned the glare right on the queen.
“I don’t know what you’re saying, but I do know you are not to be trusted. Your people stole from me—straight from my stable, even while you were a guest in my country, supposedly negotiating to extend our treaty!”
“Mother,” Griffin said. “It was me.”
“What was you?”
“I am the unicorn thief. I took Night Spark and all the others too.”
“But…why?”
“I needed to be ready. To have my own forces for when I come of age.”
“You thought I would oppose you?”
“Once you found out what I plan to do when I’m king, yes.”
“And just what are you going to do?”
“Keep our defenses strong but avoid provoking war. Allow those who wish to do so to go back to herding.”
“There are no unicorns left for them to herd.” She waved her hand dismissively, as though that had nothing to do with her policies, as though it were unchangeable. “The war unicorns aren’t suited to the wild.”
“Eventually, some of them might be if the right people work with them. But there is one last herd. On Lonehorn Island. If they were protected, some of those unicorns might flourish again in Terracornus. Their numbers could build back up.”
“I see.” The queen smirked, but Twig wasn’t buying it. She was scared and trying to hide it. The queen turned to the crowd. “And which of you support this?”
There was silence. Such a long silence. Twig wanted to grab Ben—and Griffin too—and run.
Ben opened his mouth to answer. But it just hung there. Open. He pointed behind Twig. She turned to see a group of riders approaching at a gallop. Two men on unicorns took the lead, and another rider on a larger mount was just behind them, followed by a row of five smaller figures and one riderless pony.
Rain Cloud.
Mr. Murley rode Bounce right alongside Merrill and Marble. Twig couldn’t help beaming with pride, even as she worried what he would say, how angry he would be. Mr. Murley didn’t ride with Merrill’s ease just yet, but he was a good, strong rider. Another Murley, riding a unicorn, in Terracornus.
Mrs. Murley rode Feather, who couldn’t quite keep up with the unicorns, and Rain Cloud just about kept up pace with her, urging the other ponies to hurry—Taylor and Chatterbox, Mandy and Sparkler, Regina and Celeste, Janessa and Gadget, Casey and Story.
The girls of Island Ranch formed a circle around Ben and Twig.
The queen turned to Ben. “Who,” she said with a mocking smile, “is this?”
Rain Cloud snorted. His nostrils flared, and his ears pinned back.
Merrill cleared his throat and was about to introduce them, but Casey said, “Your Majesty, we’re the people of the island. The island you wanted to forget.”
The queen’s face went white with rage. Her anger was a cold anger. So different from Ben’s temper. Oh no, Casey. Please, God, Twig prayed, don’t let her say anything stupider.
But it was the queen who spoke next. “Then you do not belong here.”
Neal drew his sword, looking all too eager to take out his anger over being left in the Death Swamp on someone.
“Hey, now!” Merrill said.
“Yes we do belong here!” Casey shouted. “We’re Twig’s family, and Ben’s too!”
To Twig’s astonishment, the girls all cheered. Ben lifted his fist and cheered too.
“And one day we’re going to be unicorn riders! All of us!”
Oh, Casey. Casey with her crazy stories. Twig looked into those big brown eyes. Full of dreams, yes. But full of determination too. The kind of determination that could make such dreams real.
This time, Twig was the first to shout. She raised her hand for Casey. “Riders!”
“Riders!” the others cheered. Ben too.
Mrs. Murley laughed out loud, a warm, teary laugh.
“The riders of Island Ranch,” Mr. Murley agreed.
Casey dismounted and threw her arms around Twig. Before she knew it, she and Ben were in a huddle of hugs and prayers. Rain Cloud poked his nose in and made sure he got a hug of his own.
“I got your message,” Merrill said to Twig. “That you were going into the Death Swamp with Ben.” He shook his head. “I would’ve stopped you if I’d been here. I was delayed. Detained by the queen’s men until they could verify my pass. By the time they let me go, Emmie found me. I knew it was too late to stop you, and I owed it to your family to tell them what was going on.”
“Oh, Twig,” Mrs. Murley said, “you’re too brave for your own good.”
“You all came,” Twig said.
“We’re in this together,” Mr. Murley said. “We should’ve been all along.”
Ben turned to the crowd. The queen’s inner circle. Her finest soldiers. “And we should be too. Together, for the well-being of the unicorns. I faced the Death Swamp for all of us. For who we really are. You remember the days. You remember what it was to ride free. To watch over your herd, doing the same. You were herders, and Westland was free. We can be who we were—who we still are in our hearts—again!”
“I stand for Griffin. For the return of the herders!” Pete, Merrill’s nephew, stepped forward.
“What’s going on, Twig-girl?” Merrill said.
Quickly, Twig whispered an explanation. Merrill joined Pete. Then, one by one, many of the onlookers did the same. They were split, half left by the queen’s side, half with Griffin.
“Well then,” the queen said, “it seems the court of Westland has spoken, and they are divided.”
“The herders of Westland have spoken,” Griffin said. “They are not divided.” He turned to his supporters. “I am humbled and honored. I don’t deserve your allegiance. But with your help, when I am king, Westland will become a land of herders again.”
“Perhaps, Griffin. We will see when that day comes.” Though the queen smiled, the threat in her tone was undeniable. Her bright red tunic swished around her embroidered leggings as she turned her back on them. She cocked her head over her shoulder. “Go, Ben. Go back to your island with these people. With your father’s people.”