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“Things I don’t want to see,” I tell Gabe. Although I’m still kneeling down, I have a sense of the bodies around me. They’rebig. I’ve never ridden a horse but I’m perfectly aware of how big they are. Whether it’s because of their magickal aura or just because they are physically larger, the unicorns feelbiggerthan normal horses. Like, elephant big. Big enough that if the unicorns decided to crush me between their bodies, or by lying down on me, they could.
A pair of silvery hooves attached to gray legs steps in front of me. A whuffle of unicorn breath, which smells like lavender, stirs the hair around my face. Then the unicorn head-butts me so hard I fall back onto my arse.
“Ow!”
The three stallions step back while Gabe starts laughing his head off. I rub my smarting forehead while glaring up at the dappled gray unicorn. He glares back at me, dark eyes glinting. Then he steps forward, planting his hoof delicately between my spread knees, lowers his head until my eyes cross following the point of his spiral spear coming at me, and butts my shoulder with his nose.
“Gabe! What am I supposed to do?”
“Pet him? That’s usually what they want when they nudge you. The stallions haven’t let us touch them, but maybe they’ll let you, since you’re a girl.”
I reach up very tentatively and when the murder pony doesn’t bite my fingers off, brush my fingers down it’s flat, horsey cheek. “Nice, uh, unicorn.”
Gabe sounds like he’s choking, he’s laughing so hard. Now that I’m not in imminent danger of being skewered, I glance over and see him standing a few feet away with the beautiful, fox-red mare. He’s scratching behind her ear with one hand while patting her neck with the other. He’s also purple with laughter.
“I hate you,” I tell him, while following his example and reaching up to scratch delicately behind one furry ear.
“I love you,” he says sweetly. “You’re so good at everything you do, it’s weird seeing you fumble something. I like it. I want to give you more firsts, Teddy.”
“Petting the murder pony is definitely a first.”
“He’s not a murder pony. They’re peaceful unless they’re threatened, just like most creatures. Except crocodiles. They’re fucking crazy. Get ready, Galerius is about to bump you again,” he says, a moment before there’s a firm whap to the back of my head.
“Why do they keep head-butting me?” I whine. “Yours isn’t doing that.”
“Try standing up very slowly. I think they’re bumping your head because it’s the easiest part of you to reach.”
“If they skewer me, you are in so much trouble,” I grumble as I slide my feet back and get them under me while continuing to scratch behind Arcadius’s ear. Things I don’t want to do include piss off the murder pony while its horn is a hand’s breadth from my face.
The unicorn blows a breath out of its nose as I shift to a squat, then to one knee, and then stand. Even standing, they’re much taller than me. Seeing them across the pool, I didn’t get a good sense of how big they were. Arcadius keeps his head bowed so I don’t stop scratching him, but the black one has his head up and the tips of his ears are probably two and a half meters off the ground, or eight feet in old money.
“Holy Mother, they’re big up close,” I murmur to Gabe.
“Uh-huh. Bigger than Shire horses. Largest equine species recorded. Based on size ratio, we project their brains are bigger than ours.”
I look into the liquid dark eyes around me. “You’re smarter than me, huh, murder ponies?”
Galerius dips his head and whuffles near my temple. Then he lips at a strand of my hair and tugs on it.
“Hey, I just got that back,” I say, tugging the now-damp strand free. While I’ve got my hand near his mouth, I stroke his soft nose.
The third stallion thwaps my shoulder.
I look behind me to find the black unicorn staring at me expectantly. “Look, I only have two hands,” I tell him.
Gabe chortles.
“You are not winning fiancée points tonight,” I say.
“C’mon, baby girl. This is even better than a unicorn pool first date. Petting the ‘murder ponies’? I should get bonus points for this.”
“Okay,” I allow. “This is high on the date coolness scale, even if it’s also high on the terror index.”
“Better than Stuffiness on the Seine?” Gabe asks, as he works down the unicorn’s side, scratching much harder than I’d dare. The unicorn’s horsey lips twist in a grimace of delight.
I snigger. I love the way Gabe and Charlie join me in teasing Darwin. It’s helping Princely loosen his britches, too, at least metaphorically.
“It’s not a competition,” I remind him.
