Chapter 6In the morning, I rather regretted my offhand promise to bring Tristan down again; keeping him upstairs indefinitely would have been much more convenient. But promise I had, and Tristan begged for it besides, pledging his word for good behavior and peaceful intentions. “I shall go mad, alone and confined to a bed,” he said. “I have spent too much of my life so already.”
With a sigh, I permitted him to come along while I did my morning chores. He hobbled behind me on a crutch fashioned from rag padding and a stout tree branch.
Though the leg clearly pained him, he seemed to feel well enough—cheerful and clear-eyed, as if his mind were somewhat divorced from the tribulations of his body. I wondered if it were an effect of the unicorn’s healing, or simply Tristan’s nature. Unwillin
