How Not to Poach a Unicorn

Twenty

Cariolta awoke to an unpleasant yet familiar smell. As her eyes adjusted to the morning light streaming through the canvas shell of her wagon, she found that her normal caregiver had been replaced with an unwashed thief.

"Why in the hells are you here, Warlis?" she grumbled as she rolled away from the stench.

"Your guardian angel is out training and I drew the short straw for watching you while she's gone," Warlis grumbled right back at her. "You sound terrible. What's wrong with your voice?"

The Princess sat herself up for the first time in over a week, pulled together some composure, and glared at Warlis. "I just woke up." Warlis stared back dumbfounded, not because of the piercing glare, but because of the Princess's appearance. "How... how do you do that?"

"Do what?" snapped Cariolta, having recaptured her regally dismissive tone.

"Your hair and make-up... It's perfect. How? You've been nearly a corpse for the last ten days."

"Women have their secrets. Now if you'll excuse me, I think I'd like to go for a walk." Cariolta climbed from the wagon with grace and poise, concealing well the fact that she could still barely hold her own weight.

Exiting the wagon, she entered a world that felt strange and alien. Dawn had just broken over the rolling jungle hills. Upon one of these, their caravan had parked for the night. A band of jovial merchants was breaking down tents and serving up a savoury-scented breakfast amongst the vibrant ferns of the hilltop glade. They joked and laughed as they worked; occasionally they would break into humorous and tasteless songs.

She wandered unnoticed through the madness feeling almost like a ghost. She found her comrades in what was either mortal combat or a beautiful dance. Kish, Kazé and Prag lunged and spun in and around each other as they sparred. The Princess was awestruck by the grace with which Kish could move. Her makeshift wooden swords seemed to wind around her and flutter like ribbon as they deflected the incoming blows from her mercenary opponent. She fought with such fluidity that both Kazé and Prag seemed to be forced to follow her movements and themselves become extensions of her deadly dance.

As enthralling as the dance of battle was, she managed to pull her eyes away from it long enough to see her young friend standing a few yards away from them, grinning wildly as he mimicked every movement. It was a sight to watch as he wasn't only mimicking Kish's dance, he was mimicking the movements of all three. It was a twisted yet dazzling mesh of Kazé's, Kish's and Prag's attacks, defences and recoveries. 

Just as Cariolta was beginning to get her bearings and come to terms with the supernaturally peaceful and beautiful environment, she was assaulted quite horribly.

"Pardon, Your Majesty, but now that you're up and about, I've some papers that really need signing." An older, yet distressingly attractive caravan woman had approached her with a sheaf of paper and an inked quill. Her businesslike tone did little to conceal the distinctive voice of the singer from the night earlier and the spokeswoman from the border crossing.

"I... what?" Cariolta was having so much difficulty assessing the situation that she had once again misplaced her royalty.

"You're being kidnapped, dear, and I need you to sign some consent forms." The smile of the woman made Cariolta trust her so much that it made her uncomfortable.

Cariolta found the quill in her hand and a sheet of very officiallooking parchment beneath it before she could even consider what the woman was rambling about.

"That one there is your acknowledgement of abduction. That's just a formality to say that you know you've been kidnapped and are being ransomed off."