He woke up to the splatter of blight on his windows, wrapped in blankets in a plush bed, all the muck and dust a distant memory. Living wood formed the walls and floor of the room, the room itself not built so much as carefully grown, shaped out of an enormous tree not with the dryad’s quick magic but the long-lasting patience of the sun elves’ husbandry. He sat up slowly, dazed. Aren’t I… on the run? How…?

Noise from outside the door. A male voice, furious. “Eleda, do you realize what you’ve done?”

“Of course I do, Father. Don’t be stupid.”

“You dare—”

“You dare follow the humans’ lead into every conflict, blind, careless of the danger to our own close allies, our friends, our brothers, the moon elves? Since when have the sun elves been the humans’ dogs?”

“Eleda,” the king thundered.

Twain slid out of bed. Hurriedly, he threw on the clothes in the closet, all in shades of greens and brows, as fit the sun elves.

“Father. Open your eyes. You know her accusations are false, and you still insist on casting Mouse to her hands?”

“Open your eyes, Eleda. Look which way the winds blow. Even the moon elves have agreed to hand him over to the humans. While they hold the Mage-Emperor, do we stand a chance against them?”

“Do they hold the Mage-Emperor?” Eleda returned.

“What do you mean by that?” her father asked.

Eleda chuckled. “Oh Father, if only you knew…”

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Twain pushed the window open. The hinge squealed, loud in the silence that stretched on the far side of the door.

“What is that? Eleda, stand aside!”

“Father—”

Twain jumped out the window just as a burly sun elf burst into the room, crawling with more muscle than he’d seen on an elf, sun or moon. The sun elf whipped his bow off his back, but Twain was already falling. He landed on a branch and jumped down to another, then another.

“Come back!” the sun elf king howled, giving chase.

“Father, honestly!” Eleda shouted, chasing him.

Down below, a white form awaited him. Spar tossed his mane and snorted, pawing at the ground. Twain hit the ground and jumped up on his back, giving him a friendly pat. “Spar!”

Spar glanced over his shoulder. “How many times am I going to have to wait outside bedroom windows for you?”

“Go, go, go!” Twain snapped.

“Yeah, yeah. On it!” Spar bolted off as the sun elf hit the ground.

An arrow whistled past Twain’s cheek, close enough to draw blood. He glanced over his shoulder as the king drew back a second arrow and took aim.

Oh fuck—

Eleda slammed into her father, knocking his aim off. “Go, Mouse!”

Twain saluted her and bent low over Spar. Spar stretched out his legs and sprinted, and they spun around the corner and galloped down the cobblestone street.

“Been a while, huh, Spar?” Twain quipped.

“Longer than you know,” Spar replied, tossing his head. “That damn princess got it in her head that I had to let her ride, now that she’s Queen. I had to live in the wild these last few months. Can you imagine? Me, a wild unicorn.”

Bent low over Spar’s back, Twain noticed the stains, now, the burs twisted in his mane and the mud caked to his fetlocks. “Spar…”

“But that’s all in the past now. We rescue Felix, take down Sabelyn, and get me back on the good life, alright?”

“Is that our goal?” Twain laughed.

Spar nodded. “Keep that image in mind. Your buddy Spar, happy and safe in a cozy stable. That’s what you’re fighting for.”

“Not, you know, purifying the Barrier Alliance of blight?”

Spar snorted. “Small potatoes, that. Me in a stable, oats and apples every day, a pretty maid and a handsome stable boy to curry my coat and shampoo my mane? Now that’s what I’m fighting for.”

Twain laughed and scruffed Spar’s mane. “I missed you, buddy.”

“I missed you, too.”

Twain turned to the road ahead. “Let’s finish this.”

“Sure you don’t want your magic?” Xenozar wheedled from the side.

Twain ignored him. I’m so close. Once I get Felix, everything will be resolved.