One Horn Too Many

A pair of legs shot out from the darkness beneath the foliage, pushing aside another overgrown wall of leaves and stems. From the opening, two prudent stallions trotted out, their gazes about their surroundings, for fear of one of the famed danger that gave the Everfree its reputation.

The maroon bicorn struggled to control his fear. “I’d say this is a nightmare… but my fur’s kept getting stuck in the branches around. I swear, it’s like combing knots all over your body.”

With a frantic hoof, he rubbed at a spot on his shoulder, still feeling the sting of the pull over there. The rubbing noise did nothing to endear him to his companion, whose patience had all but ran out already.

“Can you put a lid on it?” Edward growled. “I know it’s hard for a maniac like you, but why don’t you follow a proper model for once and do like me? In other words, stop complaining.”

Pierre’s face fell flat. “Well, excuse me, princess,” he called out with fake enthusiasm. “I was transformed into a horse not long ago and started freaking out again. So sorry for not having your mental fortitude and lack of human emotions.”

“Leave it to you to focus on...” The rest was lost in a long suffering sigh, and the shake of his head. “A cat would have been an improvement in terms of intelligence.”

While Pierre scoffed in the background, Edward resumed their walk through the apparently most dangerous forest in the world, with less caution than before. In their defense, as they would later say, one of the Everfree’s biggest horror was what all humans considered normal weather pattern.

“Why, think about it, Frenchie.” He smirked and pushed aside a large branch. “Unfortunate as it is, we have a chance at seeing something no other human has ever seen. It’s an historical moment. We are -- temporarily, let’s never forget this -- bronies that landed in Equestria.”

For a moment, the two bicorns trotted in silence, the only sound that of brushing leaves as they tried to advance across the Everfree. There was careful consideration in Pierre’s eyes, a smug smirk on Edward’s lips. At least, until his friend deadpanned, “And somehow, you’re the one I’m forced to share this with. Life loves its irony, doesn’t it?”

Edward scoffed at that. He jumped blindly over a root and, without his knowing, landed a hoof just next a fluorescent mushroom cap. The grass blades that detached from his legs landed on the red plant and created a faint sizzling hiss. With its next movement, the gray leg failed to even brush the Sunburn Mushroom, and Edward proceeded his trot none the wiser.

“Don’t ruin it, Beret-Boy.” He scowled. “This is me trying to be positive and looking forward to something.”

Pierre remained silent behind him for a few seconds, the weight of the confession hitting him, and then he chuckled softly. “I knew the end of the world was coming. Tis truly a rare occasion, right?”

“I knew you’d rather pretend this was the end of the world than work to fix it.”

“I’m not-!” Pierre started to protest, then stopped, wise enough to at least see a futile fight when it showed its rear end to him. “Forget it. So, you want to play buddy with ponies? Clichéd much?”

“This is our lives, Pierre. I may not think the world in optimistic terms, but I happen to know when opportunities arise. If you think an opinion -- such as yours, froggie --, will keep me from doing what I want, you’re mistaken enough to think French is a worthwhile language.”

The look in Pierre’s eyes was positively murderous. “Un jour, Edward, un très beau jour...”

The glare slid on Edward’s back, who seemed to be rather amused at having succeeded in drawing his friend’s ire. “I know you have poor taste in ponies, what’s with your plebeian taste in alicorns and your sinful tongue, but we can make do, can’t we? Don’t you want to see what Equestria is actually like?”

The question hit Pierre hard. He did not snark, nor did he fall back to his native French. A glint of careful consideration shone in his eyes, something tugging at the corner of his mouth. He could not exactly deny the appeal of that idea. If they still worked to get back, then surely there was no harm in enjoying it rather than falling into a useless depression, right?

Yes, they were currently quadrupeds, but that would likely be only temporary. If some obscure form of magic had changed them once, surely to reverse it would be within the realm of possibilities. And in the meantime, they could live something no other brony had ever lived. The more he thought about it, the more Pierre allowed himself a glimmer of hope.

Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad after all.

--

At the apex of the moon’s travel through the Equestrian night sky, peace reigned still over Ponyville. The homes of most citizens were blanketed in their princess’ darkness, their dreams a world to escape to. Few were still awake at such a late hour, fewer still actively plotting any strenuous activity. In truth, there were two.

Hushed curses echoed throughout the street. If one looked up at just the right moment, they would have seen a stallion hanging from a window, all but one of his legs batting in the air. The last seemed stuck to the window sill. If one had both looked up and blinked, they would have missed the spectacle, and instead heard a loud thud and the breaking of branches as the same pony fell into a bunch of bushes.

At the same window, another pony peeked out, his attention downward. Had it not been for the need of secrecy, the taunt that had come to mind would have been said loud and clear. In its place, his hoof went to his forehead.

Seconds later, he too had made acquaintance with the very same bush, now half broken under their weight. Habits nearly betrayed them, for even their whispers seemed to be nothing but mutual barbs. In the peaceful night, they felt much too loud and the two hurried away in a fast gallop.

Each step was an explosion, and each heartbeat drowned out the loudest of them. Their hearts beat so strongly their barrels hurt as fire slowly spread to their lungs and legs. They dared not slow down, their mind becoming unfocused with the pulse of adrenaline coursing through them.

There was no future for them in Ponyville, none for them in Equestria. They had to run, and there was only one place for them to go, or so they felt. It was, in retrospect, someplace they should not have left. Had they known from the beginning, they would have seeked some other solution.

And so, Edward led Pierre back to the Everfree Forest, and did not slow down as the edges of the woods became visible.

Cold air gripped at his coat, swirled into his lungs and rasped at his throat. A burning sensation that had nothing to do with his physical condition made his barrel ache. He hadn’t noticed the first time, not when they were already in the forest, but this time… he could feel where the ponies’ weather control ended. And where the wretched woods truly began.

They galloped on, further and further away from the ponies’ town and from the light. Shadows washed over them, their other senses growing sharper. Earthy moist scents tickled at their nostrils, spurn on by their brushing against leaves.

Time ticked at the beat of their gallop, neither knowing nor caring how long they had gone on. Each moment blurred into the next, until the pattern broke.

Pierre nearly stumbled, his hooves slipping on moss and grass. Through some miracle or another, he managed to stay standing, though his gallop slowed down rapidly. For a second, he held himself against a tree, and realized why he had almost fell face first onto the ground. As the realization sank in, Pierre felt cold. When had they left the path? “Ed! Wait!”

“What?” came the annoyed question. “Keep up, snail bait.”

“I can’t see the path anymore!”

“Like there really was one to begin with,” Edward retorted, motioning to the all encompassing canopy of trees and brush.

“W-what are you even…?”

“We’re supposed to be lucky, aren’t we?!” Edward asked, pushing a bushel of foliage out of the way.

He knew he heard his friend swallow his fears.

To their right, just on the edge of the path they had left, he could see shades of electric blue. Even in such darkness, the leaves and petals of the Poison Jokes were unmistakable. Suppressing a shudder, Pierre forced himself to accelerate. He did not want to imagine what those plants would do to them and he had no intention to stay behind to find out.

Edward did not either, his form already disappearing in-between the trees. As he moved to follow, Pierre felt his insides turn to ice and his legs lock into place.

“Ed! Edward! Wait!” he called. “Come on, limey, will you just listen to me for once!?”

“Yeah, when you actually have something worth saying,” Ed snorted.

Stomping, Pierre growled in anger. “I’ve got a really bad feeling about going ahead there!”

“More like you’re getting cold hooves.”

A rustling caught their attention, a shadow slowly ebbing into view, its master only seconds behind. A small orange fox like creature hopped into their path, baring its fangs at its two much larger prey.

In a deluded sense of self-preservation, Ed spun on his heel and kicked blindly at the intruder.

With one swing of his back leg, he sent the pup skidding back into the foliage. A high pitched yelp accompanied the crashing noise of branches breaking.

“D-did you just kick a baby fox?” Pierre cried out, looking incredulous. “Edward! Oh mon Dieu...”

“I suppose I did, hmmm, little bugger will be fine,” Ed said, rolling his eyes at his friend's overreaction. “It doesn’t matter anyway. We’re trying to save our sanity, remember?”

Pierre gave a flat look, rubbing his temples with a hoof. How could he ever explain in under an hour how stupid that had been? At this point, he truly wondered if there was not something wrong with Edward.

However, his response died out on his lips as a bloodcurdling hiss rose from their surroundings. The cry hitched up, grew in pitch and became a cackle, mocking and angry. Embers like so many piercing eyes ignited in the night air, the smell of burning wood and greenery ebbed on the winds. Flashes of white and orange came from their left, and their right, and the cackles now felt like angry retribution.

Edward and Pierre jumped back when one tree burst into flame.

They shielded their eyes with their front legs, backing away from the scorching heat licking at their coats. Above the barrier of flames, they could see a shape vaguely like a large fox. Its beady eyes contrasted in the light of the fire, two small spots of complete darkness, all focused on them, shining with fury.

Fear seized at their hearts, a deep, dark primal force squeezing their lungs and their throats, and already their legs were tingling and trembling. A whinny flew out of Pierre’s mouth and the power over him was too feral to even notice.

Fire volleyed over their heads, singing their manes. The blast took down the trees, cutting off their escape route.

“Oh yeah!” Pierre shouted, swiftly backing into Edward. “The little bugger will be fine, but we won’t, you moron!”

“Oh, you can go right ahead and burn in hell,” Edward shouted back, with a tremor in his voice.

“Of the two of us, I think the baby-kicker deserves the hellfire!”

“Well, regardless, we’re both going to burn at this rate,” Edward said, glancing over the growing fire, “and just so you know, I blame you for this. Now get moving!”

He left time for no more word, his back legs springing to full extension in the beginning of a mad gallop.

Sinister cackles rang across the clearing, echoes over the blinding flames in the dark. The shapes of the parents followed them, their amber eyes like that of living embers. Dashing from place to place, their eyes never leaving the two nervous stallions, their shadows slithered between the trees.

Heat licked at the two bicorns’ tails and hind legs. They pushed forward faster, the forest blurring as they ran.

Through the endless tarp of greenery, the two bickering stallions fell from a short incline and landing face first in front of a wall of thorns and briers.

“And for the record,” Pierre breathed hard, his muzzle covered in dirt, “I still hate you.”

Even with their demise staring down at their faces, Edward still found the strength to smirk. “This is news since when?”

The bicorns sat up exhausted, surrounded and terrified. The hissing of their attackers whispered on the winds, as the scorching heat of the inferno drew ever closer. The two sought solace, at least they would die on their own merit and not as puppets. Streaks of light arched from above.

But fire didn’t rain, and the explosion of light left a lingering shade of purple in their sight. A sound like shimmer and chimes buzzed lazily at their flattened ears. What washed over them was not hostile, though as soon as they saw its wielder, blazing with power, her coat and mane undulating, the bicorns hesitated.

Banging rose, impacts of fireballs onto a bubble of light, and the snarl on the princess’ face grew fiercer and more terrible.

“WHAT ARE YOU IDIOTS DOING HERE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT?!”

--

A burst of light faded, Edward and Pierre swaying form the sudden shift in environment. Twilight standing before them her horn still alight, she caught her breath, a few beads of sweat rolling off her brows. They were out of the Everfree.

Guards slowly surrounded the stallions keeping them from running back into the woods. Edward eyed them warily, pawing at the ground in defiance.

The ponies stepped back with a dismissive wave of Twilight Sparkle’s hoof. She marched on them, eyes still wide with what she had seen. “D-do you even realize how lucky it was that you were chased by fire creatures in the middle of the night?! Anything other than firefoxes and I couldn’t have spot you in the woods! You would have been killed, or worse!”

“Lucky?! Are you blind or just willingly reducing your intelligence so it matches that of the average dog?! We were trying to get away from YOU!”

An uneasy whisper rippled across the few guards standing in circle, and the princess recoiled as if struck.

“Wha-what?” she stuttered, her eyes darting to the ponies around them. A mute panic sank into her limbs, as she tried to sound friendlier, “Why in the name of Celestia would you run from me? I’ve done everything I could to help you two. Why would you run? Especially into the Everfree forest, that... that makes no sense.”

“No, you wouldn’t get it, would you?! That’s the whole problem with you, Twilight Sparkle!”

For the briefest moment, their savior frowned, cringing ever so slightly, but quickly shook her head and prepared another spell. “We don’t have time to deal with this.”

Light gathered at the tip of her horn, then flashed. Afterward, the Ponyville local garrison was left blinking at the empty space that the princess and her charges had occupied.

--

Their second experience with unicorn teleportation left them dizzier, disoriented and within a sudden rush of hooves trying to hold them standing. Edward’s first reaction had been to fight them off, persuaded that those were guards at the beck and call of Princess Twilight, come to put them under house arrest. His struggle ended with the light of a horn and a sudden sense of content filling his mind.

Pierre’s eyes had widened, the blur almost gone, and he had tried getting away, unsuccessfully. The ponies in white coats were effectively holding them down, all the while yelling incoherent things about injured bicorns. The hooves were less gentle than their words implied, shaking. The voices had grown frantic when he had winced and tried to cover his rump with his tail, one spot blackened, singed.

“First degree burn,” said some mare. “Tell the apothecary, prepare the rejuvenating spells for small-sized coat damage.”

“We’ll do everything, Princess! You’ll never even know they were injured tomorrow!” shouted some doctor, and soon they had done good on their words.

They had been shoved into those slightly less pleasant than usual cells an hour ago, perhaps two, and since then had had to endure the platitudes of a nurse that clearly had never met a bicorn before. “We’re such a small town after all, with no reserve anywhere near the Everfree, of course.” The tone had been light, but the reproach so blatant that Edward had grown… creative with his choice of words.

It had been almost funny, in retrospect, to see the pale mare’s left eye twitched as she fought to keep her composure. Her glare said loud and clear that only professionalism prevented her examination from growing painful. She had stopped trying to make small talk after that. The rest had gone by in a mostly thoughtful and frustrated silence, long after she had left and a doctor had taken her place.

Neither of them said a word. Their faces were akin to masks of stone. They stared at the turquoise ceiling with silent anger. They refused to acknowledge the other pony in the room, listening instead to the constant beeping noise by the bedsides.

Undeterred, the stallion spoke in the same monotone tone that droned on and on. Everything he said were of their great luck in coming out uninjured of their reckless endeavor, and how honored he was in treating them, and how they would of course make a swift recovery if they listened to the hospital’s staff. All with the tone of someone speaking to a particularly dim child.

Pierre sank deeper into his pillow. Was that stallion trying to get them to sleep? A quick ingestion of drugs would be simpler, but of course those people chose the hardest solution. And so he felt himself drifting, until he happened to catch what the doctor mentioned of the next procedure.

“- a worrying lack of data. Since we couldn’t find the records of your annual health examinations, we decided to run the test for the basics. If you could just lift your tail...”

Pierre shot up straight in his bed, throwing off the sheets and the equipment over his right front leg.

“Pardon?!”

The doctor turned to him with still the same even monotone. “We need to run certain tests to determine if you or your friend are at risks of falling prey to a disease or another. In the meantime, it is better to take some precautions.”

“You’re not looking at my butt, I don’t authorize you!” Pierre said. “Y-you can’t do something like that without my consent!”

The doctor seemed puzzled for a second, one brow raised as he tilted his head. He did not speak up yet, as if he were trying to understand a truly strange statement.

Something cold and familiar washed over Pierre’s spine. “O-or can you? You can, can’t you? I don’t even have the right to refuse intrusive treatments, right? Of course you wouldn’t let me have even that slightest bit of dignity!”

Sighing, the doctor looked at him in the eyes and spoke with a serious tone, “I know it’s not pleasant, but we can’t risk you developing the Unluck Horn Disease. ”

“La quoi?” Pierre asked, then repeated himself more calmly. “What’s that?”

This time, the doctor looked frankly stunned. The pen that had been hovering over his papers fell, bounced off the tablet and rolled across the tiles. It was a moment before the stallion took the time to pick it up, and even then his focus was elsewhere.

He spoke quickly in hushed tones, his gaze downward, more to himself than the two patients before him. “...There is no way you have not been told before. Your family would have. Unless yours was truly blessed...”

Edward’s ear ticked at being so blatantly ignored and dismissed. “Didn’t Princess Bossy Sparkle tell you? Polymorphed humans, not actually bicorns. Those,” he paused and poked at his horns, “are cheap plastic imitations.”

“Pardon?”

Edward’s face twisted into a sneer. “Well, I guess it was not a convenient truth to tell then. We’re not bicorns. We were not born as bicorns, or even as ponies. We don’t know how, but we were transformed when we got here.”

Rolling his eyes, the doctor pointed to a clipboard on the wall. The images on the black sheets of paper roughly resembled ponies’ skull, with bone-like structures coming out of the foreheads. “It’s an interesting story, but I’m afraid none of the scans detected a single anomaly. In fact, they showed you to be rather ordinary bicorn stallions in their best years. Now, we still need to determine if you are as healthy as you look, so if you could drop the pretenses, it would make my job much easier.”

“Why is this so hard to believe?!”

“Because normal spells don’t affect creatures to the core. It would show if you two were anything like you claimed.” The doctor looked up from his papers with an amused scoff. “And if you want me to buy that it was a spell so powerful… don’t bother. I truly doubt that Princess Celestia goes around wasting her time turning creatures into bicorns.”

“She doesn’t?” Edward’s eyes widened in mock shock. A hoof brought to his heart, he deadpanned, “Well, color me surprised. There are lows she wouldn’t sink for this bicorn obsession then. How reassuring.”

His tirade ended when a long suffering Pierre threw his pillow straight at his face.

“Oh just shut up, Ed, and you, doctor, tell me what that disease is already.”

The doctor didn’t even blink. He had grown used to much more eccentric. “Nasty thing, the Unluck Horn. The poor pony’s magical energy goes wild and slowly erodes the immune system until they die of the smallest things. It’s distressingly common, one in five at the most recent statistics.”

Both bicorns blanched. In particular, one of them suddenly had a thought for a mare and her large family. He hadn’t thought to ask -- hadn’t known he should have --, but mayhaps that mare had known her fair share of loss. The look on her face when she had learned of his only-child status now shone in a much different light, and his heart squeezed in his chest.

Oh Fortune…

“Didn’t you have anypony in your family suffering from it?” At the shake of Pierre’s head, the doctor’s brows furrowed, until a sudden light in his gaze made him perk up. “Oh, I get it, you’re a Lucky Foal, with parents not expecting a bicorn. That would explain a lot. Why, that’s nothing to be so ashamed of, quite the contrary.”

“No, I told you I’m-” Pierre suddenly stopped and facehoofed. “Urgh, nevermind that. Just tell me about that unluck crap. Is there a chance I have it?”

“Well,” the doctor trailed off slyly, “the most effective detection measure requires a blood sample.”

At that, Edward’s face darkened, and he subconsciously lowered his forehead. “If you even consider touching me with a needle, I will shove my horns straight up your malformed sterile ass.”

It hadn’t seemed to impress the one in front of them. “We can have you restrained, if you’d rather.”

Pierre facehooved with both his front legs.

--

They hadn’t thought much of it when, some time later, the nurse had announced that they had a visitor. It could have been any of the Elements Bearers, they had figured. Perhaps even a charitable misguided soul that had heard the words ‘bicorns’ and ‘injured’ in the same sentence and rushed in. They hadn’t been prepared, however, for the bronze coated stallion that trotted in.

“So you two decided to run away at night?” asked Bronze Chainmail sourly as way of greeting. “I guess I shouldn’t be acting surprised.”

Edward and Pierre exchanged a look, the strange tone in their bodyguard’s voice making them somewhat wary.

“Dropping the false caring act would be an improvement for sure,” Edward drawled. “No one can say they care about someone else and force them into those scams of relationships.”

The thunderous stomp startled them and sent their dirty dinner plates splattering on the floor. “It is my job to care, Edward! A job that I stand to lose because you stupidly decided to take a trot in the most unstable wild zone in Equestria on my watch! Do you have any idea what kind of grief Princess Sparkle has given me for that incident?!”

“Look, can we take your grief another day?” Pierre sighed, a hoof to his forehead. “We’re all tired, miserable, and I won’t be able to sit down for a day.”

At the last of those words, Edward could not keep in an amused scoff. Bronze’s head snapped toward the offending Brit. “Right, because you think these things are so funny, don’t you, Edward?”

“Funny, Funny! Are you kidding me?” Edward sputtered. “Do you want our places? We’d trade it any day with an egocentric princess lapdog.”

“That position probably won’t even exist anymore! Do you get that?! I’m probably going to be fired, but it’s not like you’ll ever get what it is like to be unemployed! All… all because you two decided you were too special to do as the rest of your species does! So don’t you dare say you’d trade place with me, you’ll never understand it! You didn’t think how your actions affected those around you! How selfish can you be?”

“Excuse me?!”

Both Bronze Chainmail and Edward froze in place, ears flat against their skull as the shrill cry bounced loud over the pale green walls of the room. Shock stilled their bodies, the outburst so undeniably unexpected that neither knew quite how to react while Pierre grabbed onto his bed’ rails with shaking legs. Chainmail’s first instinct almost made him run up to his charge, but the fiery accusation in his eyes stopped him cold. Neither him nor Edward had ever seen such fury carved onto Pierre’s face.

“You’re the one that thought we were too suspicious to be real bicorns!” He shouted, standing up. “Or did you just conveniently block all that sweet little episode from your memory?! ‘Oh, hey, those two are probably changeling impersonators, no, wait, oops, they weren’t!’ But nooooo, we spend all our time telling you we’re not bicorns and you don’t care anymore.”

“Except you are bicorns!” Chainmail said, a vein on his neck twitching. “We had glamours purgation spell on you, we have the biological readings, hay, you have the horns on your head and you still say you’re a species nopony has ever heard of! Even if you don’t want to admit it, there’s no denying what you are.”

“And who would ever admit to it?! Who in their right mind would ever want to reveal they’re a bicorn to an Equestrian?! The second you decided the fucking horns on our heads are real, that literal second, we became toys for your petty pony princess!”

“Ho-how dare you?!” Chainmail bit back, anger and confusion flashing in his eyes. “We’ve… we’ve done nothing but help you since you stumbled into town.”

“Oh don’t make me cry! You think you’re the big victim here?” Pierre scoffed, and it was a sound more bitter than anything the guard had ever heard. “You think it’s normal to restrain adults and watch over them like babies. You think it’s fair to put them in reserves and lock the door so they’re ‘safe’! You think that because there aren’t many alive, the only thing to do is to force the ones that are to put out! And by far, the worst of it all is that you think anypony that doesn’t throw the towel and live the life you want them to is SELFISH!”

The word boomed in the small hospital bedchamber. It echoed through the open door, and a sense of stillness washed over them. Their surroundings had grown quiet.

Chainmail took a step back, his ears flat on his skull. His anger forgotten, he seemed to want to try and get his charge to calm down, but the burning blush across his own face made it hard to gather the courage. His mouth opened, but nothing came out.

Pierre pointed a hoof straight to him, his chest rumbling with mute anger. “You know... the worst part was that I thought you cared. For all the misguided attitude, I thought you at least worried about us on some level. But this? You just proved to me that we really aren't more than some princess' property. My favorite thing in the world is studying history, but it's not like you ever wondered that, did you? We're cattle to you. Don't deny it.”

“I-I, but, you…”

“You’re mad that we didn’t just let you put us in a dollhouse’s to ease someone else’s guilty conscience; you’re mad, not because we actually were in danger at some point, but because that reflects badly on you…” Pierre’s voice dropped to a harsh whisper, and his glare suddenly seemed to be piercing through his every layer of armor. “And you want an apology for that?”

Bronze Chainmail winced. “No, I, Pierre, you got it all wrong...”

“HAVE A NICE LIFE!”

Chainmail stood shocked and mute, his eyes unblinking and his breathing faint and sparse. He wanted to fight back, to tell Pierre how wrong he was, how unfair his argument was. He couldn’t. The words tripped over themselves in his mind, he couldn’t grasp at the right ones. He knew Pierre wouldn’t listen and Ed seemed just as shocked as he did.

Instead, after a deep breath, he collected himself, returning to the proper stoic mask of a royal guard. “I'm a guard, Pierre. I risk my life for other ponies' safety. Feel free to think I'm selfish, but I know who really is.”

Turning stiffly, Chainmail trotted out of the room, leaving the two bicorns in a sullen silence, the tension thick and heated. It lasted all of a minute, before the elephant in the room was addressed.

“Damn, Pierre,” Edward said, blinking at his fuming companion.

“Yeeah…” Pierre agreed, panting after his tirade.

“So, you feel any better?”

Slowly, the heaving of his chest grew fainter, and the fire in his eyes dimmed into nothing. All at once, Pierre slumped into his place in the bed and hugged himself. “No.”

“Yeah.” Taking a deep breath of his own, Ed let forth a humorless chuckle. “I didn’t think so.”

The fight had left Pierre. He muttered to himself, his voice defeated, “We can’t run. She’s going to make sure of that now more than ever.”

There was the sound of sliding sheets, of springs creaking under weight, and a few hooves clopping over the tiled floor. When he glanced that way, Pierre saw Edward looking out their room’s window, a stoney expression etched over his face.

“Well, there is more than one way to win a war. If we can’t leave, we’ll make them regret keeping us here.”