Tabby trailed a hoof along the top of the jewelry counter under the glaring fluorescent lights of the shop. “No… no, I don’t like any of these,” she said, turning away.
“Are you sure?” asked Thomas, who hadn’t expected ring shopping to turn into such an ordeal. For not caring about jewelry in her day-to-day life, Tabby was surprisingly particular when it came to the engagement ring. She had certain standards, unbeknownst to the rest of the world, that every jewelry design in Misty Hollow or Hayton fell short of.
“You haven’t seen this new arrival,” interjected the harried-looking clerk, reaching for something under the counter. “Just in from Vulcanopolis. A Constantine Tortellini design. Very elegant, very chic. As you can see, the band is set with nine diamonds.”
“Nine diamonds?” Tabby said incredulously, looking at the band that was given up for her consideration. “That seems a little excessive.”
“It does,” said Thomas, who had student loans to pay, and suspected that this luxury model was outside the budget he had in mind.
The clerk looked at Tabby hopefully.
She was about to turn away again, but suddenly something in her expression changed, and she peered at the ring again. “Well, but maybe…” She twisted her head this way and that, studying it at different angles.
Well, at this rate, Thomas was almost willing to overpay if it brought this shopping to a conclusion.
“Hmm… no. No, I don’t think so,” Tabby announced at long last, pushing the bejeweled band back toward the clerk. “I think I’ll just find something of questionable manufacture online.”
“Thank you for your time,” said Thomas with a sympathetic look at the clerk before going after Tabby, who was already out the door.
* * *
“Just what kind of ring do you want?” Thomas asked, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice, as they walked the streets of downtown Hayton.
“Oh, you know,” said Tabby vaguely. “Not too clunky. Sparkly.”
“That describes half the rings we’ve looked at!”
“No, no, they were all… they just weren’t right. I’m going to be wearing it every day for the rest of my life, and it has to be perfect.”
Thomas was somewhat mollified at her appreciation of a lifelong commitment. “Maybe Tamara could offer some guidance.”
“I’m not letting Tamara influence my decision on an engagement ring!” Tabby drew herself up indignantly.
“It’s just, we’ve looked at a lot of rings,” Thomas said carefully. “Someone with more expertise could narrow down your choices and guide you in the right direction.”
“Maybe I’ve been looking at this wrong. Maybe I’ve been wasting our time looking at new rings. Maybe I need something vintage,” Tabby mused.
“There is…” Thomas trailed off while giving her a sidelong look.
“What?” she demanded.
“Oh, nothing, you probably wouldn’t like it,” he said, hoping that being secretive would pique her interest.
Sure enough, she went after the hint like a dog after a ball. “What is it?”
Thomas finally relented. “There’s a ring of my mother’s that I saved from her belongings. But… I’m sure it’s just sentimental value.”
“Let me see it!” she said, her eyes gleaming.
* * *
“This is an Atlantean relic,” Tabby chided, turning the ring reverently in her hoof. “Ponies are always holding out their Atlantean relics on me.”
“I assumed it was costume jewelry,” Thomas said, who honestly hadn’t thought it was anything out of the ordinary.
“It’s an oricalcum band set with aetherion–artificially created by magic to store energy and boost abilities,” Tabby spoke with authority. “They’re usually depleted after all this time, but this one, I can still sense something to it.”
“Do you actually like it?” asked Thomas, surprised that his ploy to get them out of the shops might actually pan out in the long run.
“I love it,” she said, eyeing it covetously. “It’s perfect.”
“It’s not really the style of an engagement ring.”
“That doesn’t matter. I want it.”
“Well,” Thomas said, drawing it back away from her, “perhaps I’ll just let Fr. Isaac take a look at it before you wear it. I wouldn’t want to bring about another Atlantean spirit possession.”
“That’s probably wise,” Tabby agreed.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you, have you told your mother about the engagement?” Thomas asked, tucking the ring into a drawer in the end table.
“Do I really have to?” Tabby grimaced. “I’m sure she’ll just make me feel stupid about the whole thing.”
“You can’t just not tell her we’re getting married.”
Tabby looked at him skeptically, as if she was considering it.
“We can call her together. Would that help?” Thomas asked cajolingly.
“No,” she said, frowning. “I think this is something I’ll handle on my own.”
* * *
“Hey, Mom.” It was later that evening and Tabby was alone at home making the important phone call.
“Oh, hello, dear. How are you doing? I hear so little from either of you girls!” Agatha prattled. “I have a few moments before this President’s Reception for the NLWF and–”
“I’m getting married,” Tabby cut her off.
That stopped Agatha short. “You? Getting married?” she asked incredulously. “So Dr. Collins…”
It had been awhile since Tabby had been in touch with her parent. “Uh… no, not Toby; we broke up.”
“That would seem to be the opposite of getting married,” Agatha stated the obvious.
Tabby paused. “It’s Thomas,” she said at length.
“Oh.” The word was poignant with meaning. “Have you really thought this through, dear?”
Tabby sighed. “Are you really going to hang on to this grudge over a dessert order?”
“It’s a bit more complex than that,” Agatha said defensively. “I’ve tried to protect you all these years. We thought it would be better that way.”
Tabby’s ears perked up. “We?”
“Your father and I, naturally. Our family heritage comes with, well, expectations from certain parties.”
“Is it the Krulotin?” Tabby demanded.
“You know them?” Agatha asked quietly.
“We’ve crossed paths,” said Tabby guardedly. “And there was a journal of Dad’s that filled in some details.”
“They were supposed to stay out of your lives. It’s what they agreed,” said Agatha, perturbed.
“What, exactly, are our families doing with the Krulotin?” This wasn’t the direction Tabby had anticipated the conversation going, assuming her mother would be caught up on all the trivial planning details that Tamara was obsessing over–if Agatha could be swayed to give her blessing, of course.
“They are guarding us, guarding our great magic, in their own fashion.” Agatha sighed deeply. “For generations they have dictated how we live, what we do, who we marry… for our own good, of course. That’s what they tell us.”
Tabby’s brow creased. “But why does that make it so you don’t want me to marry Thomas?”
“Tabitha, my dear… don’t you see?” Agatha’s voice softened. “You’re not really in love with each other; the Krulotin have just maneuvered things to make it seem that way. This is all going according to their plan.”
“What! No, it’s not like that,” Tabby protested.
“They’re very clever. You may think it’s your idea, your emotion, but it’s not,” said Agatha, a warning edge to her voice. “This is what they do. They are masters at manipulation.”
Tabby was silent for a moment. “They might have brought him here,” she finally said, “but the falling in love part isn’t from manipulation.”
“Look at this objectively!” Agatha argued. “Think of all the mares in Thomas’s past, and how do you measure against them? I mean no offense, but you’re clearly not his type.”
“Well, I’m the only one he’s proposed to, aren’t I?” Tabby said, miffed.
Agatha sighed. “When the haze of new love is past, you’ll see that neither of you has what you wanted.”
“Why should I listen to you?” Tabby demanded. “I don’t have a history of taking your advice, you know. How does this marriage benefit the Krulotin, anyway?”
“They want to restore the kingdom of Atlantis,” Agatha said, “and they need a powerful individual to take the throne.”
“So we’re all Atlantean royalty, is that the story?”
“Yes, that’s your heritage, both of you!”
“I’m not buying it,” said Tabby skeptically. “I thoroughly researched it. The closest we come to the royal family is the housekeeper of King Melakos–”
“Yes, well, the Krulotin have vast vaults of scrolls and tomes and that sort of thing,” Agatha interjected. “Undoubtedly there’s a connection you missed.”
“No offense, but there’s not much left of the kingdom of Atlantis to rule.”
“And they seek to change that! That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” Agatha burst out. “Atlantean magic has been diluted over the years. The Krulotin have a long-term plan, starting with your father and I, and Thomas’ parents.”
“Your marriages were arranged?” That was a detail Tabby had never been privy to.
“They were–it didn’t go exactly as planned,” Agatha admitted, “but they got what they wanted in the end. They seek to condense as much Atlantean magic as possible into one individual.”
“Wait, wait,” Tabby spluttered. “So I’m to be a broodmare? That’s my purpose in all of this?”
“Now do you see why we were trying to shield you from their reach?”
“If it’s all for a foal to be born…” Tabby grappled with this concept. “What are they planning to do?”
“They control the foal, they control great power, maybe bring about a revolution, a new world order!”
“That seems like a bit of a leap.” Tabby wasn’t sure what to do with all this new information. “Wouldn’t this have been easier if you had just told me from the beginning?”
“Well, you never do what I tell you, and I thought you were stubborn and hard-headed enough to thwart their plans!”
“So you’re saying this is my fault for capitulating so easily,” said Tabby, frowning.
“Oh, I know you’ll do just what you want in the end anyway,” said Agatha. “But tell me, where are you at in your cycle?”
“Mom!” Tabby groaned at the invasiveness of the question.
“It’s important! It could affect the course of everything!”
Tabby exhaled forcefully. “Fine. It’ll be two, three years before any of that comes into play.”
“Well, maybe the Krulotin will disband by then,” Agatha said, but she didn’t sound very sure of herself.
“They’re an ancient secret society,” Tabby snapped. “You think they’ll just go away?”
“I don’t have any better ideas at this time,” said Agatha sharply.
Author’s note: I decided that, as magical beings, unicorns have very long fertility cycles, because of the high cost of magic and reasons of that sort. So… now you know.
* * *
“… and remember to sign up for the marriage prep retreat,” Fr. Isaac said, walking with Thomas to the door of the rectory. “They’re held in Hayton twice a year.”
“I’ll talk to Tabby about scheduling that,” Thomas said.
“There will also be a series of meetings with me,” continued the priest, “and you can call Chicory to set those up. There will also be a meeting with a volunteer couple to go over some of the aspects of married life you might not have considered.”
“That sounds great,” Thomas said, smiling tightly, knowing that Tabby would love these activities. He was likely going to have to drag her kicking and screaming. “Thanks for taking care of the ring for me.”
“Any time,” said Fr. Isaac. “And try to keep Tabby away from dealing with spirits.”
“I’ll do what I can,” said Thomas.
* * *
“I called my mom,” Tabby announced, flopping down on the couch in Thomas’ apartment. Her expression hinted at weariness.
“You did?” Thomas blinked, genuinely surprised. He hadn’t expected her to handle that so quickly. “You told her?”
“Yeah…” she said, distractedly twirling a strand of hair around her hoof.
“How did she take it?” he asked, leaning forward slightly, a mix of curiosity and apprehension in his voice.
“About as expected,” Tabby replied, her tone detached as she stared at the rug.
Thomas frowned. “What did she say?”
Tabby inhaled sharply before speaking. “She confirmed that the Krulotin are connected to our families. And that they’ve been managing our lives and manipulating our emotions and that… that… they want us to marry to continue the bloodline.” Her voice cracked ever so slightly at the end.
Thomas sat back. There was a lot to unpack in that statement. “No one has forced me into this,” he said at length, keeping his voice steady.
“But she’s planted the seed of doubt, don’t you see!” Tabby’s hooves twisted together anxiously. Her wide eyes darted toward him. “Now I won’t be able to put it out of my mind. They are responsible for bringing you here–we know that.”
“Moving across the country is one thing, but falling in love—no one artificially constructed that!” Thomas protested, leaning toward her, trying to catch her gaze.
“This is what she’s like, always tearing down what I’ve built up, ruining it!” Tabby’s voice was sharp, but her eyes showed vulnerability.
“I don’t want you doubting us,” Thomas said firmly.
Tabby fell silent for a moment, her eyes darting to the window. “Do you want them? Foals, I mean?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
The question caught Thomas off guard, and he hesitated. “I mean… someday, sure. It doesn’t have to be right away. But eventually. Do you?”
Tabby’s breath hitched. She didn’t answer directly. “I don’t think my mom ever loved me,” she said suddenly, the words tumbling out in a rush. “And I think–I think I’m too much like her! I don’t like foals, and I think I’d be just as bad a mother as she is.”
“I don’t think that’s necessarily true,” Thomas said gently. “Your father was a good parent, wasn’t he?” He couldn’t quite bring himself to defend Agatha’s parenting, on the other hoof.
“Yeah…” Tabby’s voice wavered, her hooves falling still in her lap.
“Anyway, you’re more than just the sum total of your biology.” He leaned closer, his eyes soft. “You are perfectly yourself.”
Her voice quivered as she asked, “Would it change your mind about marrying me?”
“No matter where life leads, I want to be with you,” Thomas assured her.
“And if we do–well–it would just be following someone else’s plan, and I’m not sure I like that,” Tabby said, her tone laced with frustration and doubt.
“We never know for sure what’s going to happen,” Thomas countered, his voice calm but resolute. “But if and when we have foals, we’ll do it for building a family, not to fulfill any ancient prophecies.”
“I never said there were prophecies,” she said, a hint of a smile breaking through.
“You know what I mean.”
Tabby let out a small, dry laugh. “I have a few years to come around to the idea.”
Thomas smiled, his shoulders relaxing. “So it’s okay. We don’t have to plan around it just yet. And for what it’s worth, I really don’t see you turning out like your mother.”
Her posture softened, and she leaned back into the couch.
“Now, there’s something I want to give you,” Thomas said, reaching into a nearby drawer and withdrawing the ring.
“Oh!” Tabby’s eyes lit up with the usual excitement she showed around Atlantean relics, her earlier gloom momentarily forgotten.
“One hundred percent free of spirits,” Thomas teased, his lips quirking into a grin.
“Well, that’s good.”
He slid the ring onto her foreleg, his heart swelling as their eyes met and held for a long moment.
“I guess you could kiss me now, if you wanted,” Tabby finally said, breaking the silence with a small, wry smile.
Which he did.
* * *
Thomas could understand that Agatha had certain concerns. But taking away her daughter’s joy at her engagement by insinuating there was no romance involved, was a low blow. And Thomas intended to let her know that it was not appreciated.
There was only one way to get close to Agatha, and that was by obtaining the sympathy of her personal assistant, Gwen. Thomas needed to get that mare on his side. That evening, he dialed her number.
“Hello,” came the crisp voice over the phone.
“Hi, Gw–Ms. Floribunda,” Thomas quickly corrected, recalling that they were no longer on a first name basis. “It’s Dr. Fairfax.”
“Oh… how do you do,” said the mare coolly.
“Look, can we drop the attitude? I agree I acted unconscionably at that reception. But I’d like to think we’re mature enough to move past it.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gwen said, with a calculated lack of emotion.
“Well…” Thomas searched his head for how to regain her trust. His experience with the mare largely consisted of sharing spreadsheets, but he recalled she often fell back on telling anecdotes about her two daughters. “How’s your family?” He was willing to engage in small talk if it would get Gwen back on his side.
“They’re good.” Gwen’s voice brightened. “Briar fell and broke her collarbone playing tennis at the beginning of the year, but she’s fine.” Thomas recalled that her children seemed to have remarkably poor self-preservation skills and were always getting into scrapes. “McKenzie’s a senior in high school, can you believe it! She wants to go back to Mestruna for college–she’s been looking at UNP and Folkhaven.”
“Those are both excellent schools,” Thomas said in a carefully measured voice.
“Yes, well–er–what can I help you with today?” Gwen asked, coming back to a business-like tone.
“I need to talk to Agatha,” Thomas explained. “We have some business to discuss.”
Gwen tsked. “Yes, well, she’s not very happy with you,” she warned. “You did go against her wishes when she explicitly told you that Tabitha was not an option for your philandering!”
“That’s why I’d like to talk to her,” Thomas said in a wheedling tone. “I don’t think she has an accurate picture of me.”
“Well, she’s at a luncheon right now with Mr. Casale,” said Gwen with a barely discernible huff. “I can tell her you called, but I can’t make any promises past that.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
“Good day, Dr. Fairfax.”