Beak strained against the magic holding her in place. If that was Razorscale and Silver outside the door, then there was about to be a confrontation between dragons and unicorns — unicorns with dramatic fangs, no less — and Beak knew enough about both races to avoid getting caught between them. But no luck.

Razorscale’s human form was awash with blue mage lines as he leapt off the flying carpet, and Silver bounded to the floor behind him in a blaze of fire. Beak was amazed to see the young dragon sporting flames along their back and wings, not breathed from their mouth.

I was right! They can do more fire magic than they pretend! Beak was privately triumphant. Maybe I’ll ask about it later. If there is a later.

“Give them back,” Razorscale demanded as the door shut.

The lead unicorn replied with a smile in her voice. =Give what back, human?=

Razorscale snarled and pointed at the captives. “Them.”

=So possessive!= the unicorn laughed. =Such a dragon. This must be an unpleasant day for you.=

“I’m prepared to make it worse for you,” the dragon informed them.

=Adorable,= the unicorn declared. =How about you tell us what you discovered at court, and let us get on with business.=

“All I discovered is that I had to leave right when one of my quarry was arriving,” Razorscale snapped. “And that is your fault.”

The unicorn made a sound of faux-sympathy. =Give us your memory so we can find them=

“Suck my cloaca.”

The unicorn lowered her horn to shoot a flash of pure white magic at him. It splashed against an invisible barrier. Both dragons looked smug.

Undeterred, the unicorn tilted her head toward the captives, and Beak felt the glowing magic turn staticky and painful. She winced. Twig and Windmane cried out, while Stomp grunted stoically.

Razorscale didn’t move. “You don’t know what it would do to the spell if you killed one.”

=Neither do you,= the unicorn pointed out. =You’d better let us access your memories if you don’t want to find out together.=

Razorscale looked at Silver and said one word: “Fire.” Silver didn’t even nod, just spread their wings and sent a curl of flame along the walls, encircling everyone.

Beak’s exclamation was lost in the general uproar. Captives were screaming, pixies were zipping by in panic (none touched by the flame, Beak noticed), and bolts of flame were flashing past to target the food dishes with precise aim. The unicorns were silent. They didn’t even move until something else passed in a blur, and they both made sounds of affront.

The pain of the magical bonds eased as the flames did. Beak caught her breath and looked up to see Razorscale appear in the center of the room, holding two shimmering strands of hair. Still moving with enhanced speed, he disappeared again to reappear beside Silver, who was the only thing on fire now. Aside from a few smoking apple stems.

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At a head-toss from the lead unicorn, both stomped their hooves in unison. The wave of glittery magic that snapped across the floor almost hurt to look at. Beak was glad to be out of range in the glowball.

It reached the dragons, and looked painful. Razorscale swore in High Draconic before popping upwards on pixie dust. Silver kicked a food dish off a pillar and perched there, still on fire, hissing like a wet cat.

Another blur, and Razorscale had woven the hairs into a complicated knot. The significance was lost on Beak, but the unicorns’ tense body language said something.

“Are you ready to speak civilly?” Razorscale asked.

=Are you ready to volunteer a memory?= the unicorn shot back. =It doesn’t have to be yours.=

“That’s a ‘no,’ then.”

=Perhaps one of your pets will let us see into their mind.= The magic started to hurt again. =So that we can all move forward with our goals.=

“No.”

“YES FINE; WILL YOU STOP IT ALREADY?” Beak shouted. The pain stopped immediately. “You could have just asked us! What the crap-claw is wrong with you?”

Stomp whispered about caution, while the unicorns glared and Razorscale smiled broadly.

“Many things,” the dragon said.

=Just for that, we won’t be gentle,= said the lead unicorn.

That was all the warning Beak got before she was shot back in time to the festival. It was clearly a memory; she was a passenger in her head, unable to change the motions she was going through. And the two unicorns were there observing with her — two more minds than her head was meant to hold. It was incredibly uncomfortable. That just made the bad memory worse, while the wings and clawed feet she missed dearly moved without her say-so.

The harpies were packing up early, since last-minute purchases of even the highest-quality building materials were unlikely. Beak was checking a bag of mortar for leaks, holding the brown sack up with her feet (oh, how she missed those), when she caught sight of the unexpected magic. A line of red-gold light twining through the air like a curious snake, prompting approval from some viewers and confusion from others.

Beak dropped the bag and mantled in alarm, puffing up every feather at an instinct she couldn’t name. The thing was coming closer. Deeply unsettled, Beak left the bag where it had fallen and hopped behind the tent, ready to wait until this ill-advised magic display was over.

It found her. When the reflected light on the ground started turning red, she jerked back and flapped in panic, but too late. Red-gold light curved around the corner and leapt for her face.

The flailing and flapping that came next was embarrassing, more so the second time with added witnesses. The light was gone, and the magic appeared to be, but Beak-the-observor heard faint mutterings from the two unicorns about the magical signature and the spell’s makeup. It meant nothing to her. All she could do was wait through the awkward minute or so between the other harpies asking what had happened and her past self having an answer for them.

She’d lost consciousness the first time. She found now that it was for the better. Being awake while her wings shrank into useless arms and claws softened into nubs was the kind of experience that would haunt her dreams.

At least it doesn’t hurt, Beak thought shakily. This has to be the end of the memory, right? Her past self was at the discovery-and-denial stage, which she remembered lasting quite a while.

Thankfully, the unicorns had seen what they wanted to see. Small mercies. Their mental voices made a decisive noise, then reality popped like a bubble.

Beak blinked. She was back in the glowball, being held upright when she would have liked to curl up like a hatchling. Stomp was asking if she was okay. Beak managed a weak affirmative.

=We’ve told our compatriots back at court what to keep an eye out for,= the lead unicorn was saying to Razorscale. =If you’ll just describe the aura you saw, then we can take it from here=

“And we’re back to ‘no,’” the dragon replied.

=If you MUST insist, you can accompany us while your pets stay in our care.=

“Also no.”

The back-and-forth kept up while Beak mentally got her feathers on straight and was able to tell Stomp honestly that she was fine. The dragon had almost gotten the lead unicorn to agree to leave the group at the picnic tables again when the unicorns perked up simultaneously.

=Good news,= the leader said. =There is a minotaur at court, when none were invited. Our compatriots say he appeared in the middle of the room via magic, and is demonstrating his strength by lifting several human women at once.=

Stomp growled. “I’m gonna rip his horns off.”