“Then let me wait with you while you figure it out.”
“Graham—”
“I’m serious. We’ll walk. We don’t have to talk. I’ll just... be here. In case you need me.”
In case I need him. As if he wasn’t the one thing I needed most in the world. As if needing him wasn’t the most dangerous thing I could possibly do.
But I was so tired of being alone with this. So tired of carrying it by myself.
“Fine,” I said, relenting. “We can walk.”
We climbed the rest of the hill in silence, the standing stones growing larger as we approached. Graham’s hand found mine at some point. I should have pulled away—I knew I should have—but I couldn’t deny myself this one small comfort.
His hand was warm and solid around mine. It felt like home.
The standing stones loomed above us now, grey and ancient and patient.
“My gran used to bring me here,” I said, breaking the silence. “When I was little. She’d tell me stories about the stones, about the old magick. She loved talking about the people who’d worshipped here long before there was a village or a castle or anything else.”
“I remember.” Graham squeezed my hand. “You used to drag me up here with you. You said the stones would tell us secrets if we listened hard enough.”
“Did they ever? Tell you secrets?”
“No. But I didn’t mind.” He turned to look at me, his expression soft in the grey light. “I would have followed you anywhere, Agnes. I still would.”
My heart cracked. Just a little. Just enough to let some of the pain seep through.
“Graham—”
“I know. You’re not ready to talk.” He reached up with his free hand and brushed a strand of wet hair from my face. “It’s fine. I can wait. I’ve gotten very good at waiting where you’re concerned.”
“You shouldn’t have to wait. You shouldn’t have to—” I stopped, the words catching in my throat. “You deservesomeone who can just... be with you. Without complications. Without?—”
“I don’t want someone without complications. I want you.” He said it simply, like it was just a fact. Like it wasn’t the most terrifying thing anyone had ever said to me. “I’ve always wanted you. And whatever these complications are, whatever you’re so afraid of, we’ll figure it out. Together.”
Together. It was such a simple word and also an impossible promise.
I opened my mouth to respond—to argue or to do any of the hundred things I usually did to keep him at arm’s length.
But the air around us shifted.
It wasn’t something I could explain, exactly. One moment we were standing among the stones, wet and tired and tangled up in the same conversation that wouldn’t have a good ending. The next moment, everything felt... different.
It reminded me of when nature went quiet when something big approached, like the world was holding its breath.
Graham felt it too. His head came up and he scanned the stones around us.
“Do you feel that?” he asked, tightening his hold on me. He shifted, so his shoulder eased in front of me, protecting me.
“Aye.”
The grey light seemed to shimmer at the edges of my vision. Even the mist seemed to pause, hanging suspended in the air like it was waiting too.
And then I saw what it was waiting for.
A unicorn emerged from behind the largest standingstone, its white coat gleaming like moonlight made solid. It moved like something that existed between heartbeats. A single spiral horn rose from its forehead, catching what little light there was and fracturing it into tiny rainbows that danced across its coat.
It was, without question, the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.
