Unicorns? Get Real!

suddenly seemed radiant.
    “He’s is so silky. What will you call him?” Alicia said, stroking his shoulder.
    Gundersnap looked up, her eyes absolutely dancing. “That’s it. I shall call him Silk.”
    “Totally ice!” Kristen exclaimed, and clapped her hands together.
    “It’s the perfect name,” said Alicia.
    “Gundersnap,” Kristen said, “what did it say in that unicorn book you were reading the other day about how you can tell how old they are by their horn or something?”
    “Yes, the spirals—you count them.”
    “Like tree rings?” Myrella asked.
    “Not exactly. Because it’s not one spiral for each year, but one for every five years.”
    “And when are they in their prime?” Kristen asked.
    “Between forty and sixty years old,” Gundersnap replied.
    “That seems old,” Alicia said. “Horses don’t live that long.”
    “Oh, but unicorns do,” Gundersnap replied. “They live well over one hundred years.”
    “Let’s count Silk’s spirals,” Myrella suggested.
    The princesses began counting together: “One—two—three—four—five—six—seven…” They paused. “And a half?” Gundersnap looked up, for as they came to the last spiral, it seemed as if it had just begun to emerge from the unicorn’s forehead.
    “Can we round up?” Kristen asked.
    “Well, let’s just say he’s between thirty-five and forty,” Gundersnap replied.
    “In other words, almost in his prime,” Alicia added.
    Just then the trumpets sounded to call them to the Great Hall for dinner. The four princesses each gave Silk a hug and then left the stables. But Gundersnap was troubled. She had hoped to find at least part of the answer to Berwynna’s riddle in Silk’s stall—but she had learned nothing. She was relieved that Silk was safe and sound, but someone was in terrible danger. She feared it was Menschmik, and that perhaps it was too late for her to do anything. Maybe we must go back to the tapestry? But when would there be time? Tomorrow they would be going to Burning Shield.

Chapter 15
    THE SNORT MAKES A GRAVE MISTAKE

    There was eel pie for dinner that night, a favorite with Gundersnap but not with Alicia.
    “I just can’t stand the way their little heads poke out of the crust, with those beady eyes. It’s like being watched while you eat,” Princess Alicia complained to Princess Myrella of the Marsh Kingdoms.
    “But,” replied Princess Myrella, “someone is always watching you when you eat as it is, Princess Alicia.”
    “That’s true, but it’s not usually the thing you are eating. An eel—ick!”
    “I myself do not care for eels,” the Duchess of Bagglesnort said in that oozy voice she often used. It gave the four princesses a dreadful feeling. The Snort was going to say something awful, probably to Myrella. It was as if the duchess couldn’t help herself—although this was no excuse. “Just mean,” Alicia had said once, “mean right down to her supposedly royal bones.” There were rumors that the duchess had bought her title—if only they could prove it!
    But it was worse than Alicia or any of them could have imagined. For the Duchess of Bagglesnort had suddenly risen from her seat. Actually it seemed as if she had coiled up, and her eyes began to glitter. She looked like a snake ready to strike.
    “But I am sure our little Princess Myrella probably loves them dearly—eats them, swims with them and who knows, might even dance with them.” She paused, as if she had said something terribly clever. But no one laughed. “Oh, I have a marvelous idea for a little amusement. Why not a charming dance between our little froggy princess and the tiny Slobo dwarf?”
    Dead silence. Had not the Snort learned her lesson on the archery field?
    No one dared look at Gundersnap. Would she explode? Would she seize the sword that was mounted on the wall near her chair and slice off the duchess’s head?
    Then, before anyone could say or do anything, the Snort picked Gortle up from where he sat next to Princess Gundersnap and began jiggling him as she walked toward Myrella.
    Princess Gundersnap made a spectacular leap right onto the tabletop and roared in a terrifying and deep voice, “PUT HIM DOWN THIS INSTANT IF YOU WANT TO KEEP YOUR HEAD ON YOUR SHOULDERS.” She had pulled the sword from the wall.
    The Princess of Slobodkonia’s hot voice could have blistered the paint right off the Snort’s face. “Don’t you ever, I repeat, ever , touch Gortle again.” The Camp