jezi & impa
bay & black blanketed sisters of the peak
Derry’s support and Impa’s recent success at being voted back in as Prime Minister of the Peak had put the black blanketed mare in high spirits, but when she discovered her sister walking up one of the switchbacks on the mountain her mood dampened considerably. She hurried to intercept the brown and black mare, and though her head was high and her ears forward, there was a certain dullness to her right eye as she prepared herself for what she knew would be a difficult conversation. Jezibelle had made some remarks last time they had been together, and while Impa wanted to give her sister’s words the benefit of the doubt, her heart hung heavy in her chest. The implication that their brother had killed their father had been gnawing at the edge of her thoughts for weeks now, and it was time to set the record straight: surely their brother wouldn’t have, couldn’t have done such a thing regardless of how Kisei had treated him. Their father must have died in an accident. Impa refused to consider anything else, least of all murder. The idea that anyone in her family could commit such an act was incomprehensible.
Blocked by her older sister’s bulk, Jezibelle stared off to the left, her dark eyes skimming the scenery that lay over the edge of the path. She held her head even with her shoulders, not in deference or submission but in her usual lackadaisical pose. The bay mare’s ears were pushed to the sides and her left hind hoof rested on its tip. To a casual observer she would look relaxed, maybe even content, but Impa saw only the juvenile disrespect that her younger sister seemed to exude from every pore. They were only two years apart, and at ten years old Jezibelle’s attitude seemed more fitting of a horse Imp’s age. It was this that Impa focused on when she confronted her sister instead of the whispers of certainty that she had banished to the blackest depths of her mind.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” she said, her voice as stern as a mother about to deliver a long lecture to a daughter who had come home past curfew. Jezibelle pushed out her lower lip and allowed her eyelids to droop, and Impa turned her ears back. Was everyone’s little sister this insufferable, or just hers? “Before you left, you said our brother did the islands a favor. What did you mean by that?” Her heart pounded in her chest and she felt a faint tremor pass through her legs, but the black mare did not give in to her nerves. It couldn’t possibly be true, so she had no reason to worry. Jezibelle blinked once, slowly, then glanced up at Impa as she sucked her lower lip back in to make a hollow popping noise with her mouth.
Impa pinned her ears. “Well?”
“He got rid of a tyrant.”
“How?” Her ears lifted, slowly.
Jezibelle’s black mouth curled upwards in a smile. “Magic,” she said, and laughed.
Impa struck as fast as the snakes that hunted for mice among the rocks near the base of the Peak, her teeth closing around the base of her sister’s left ear and holding. Jezibelle squealed and jerked her head but grew still when she realized Impa would not let go and a tug-of-war would result in the loss of her appendage. The older mare’s ears were lost in the black froth of her mane and she increased the pressure of her teeth, ignoring the soft hairs that pressed against her tongue and threatened to make her gag. The truth came out in a rush, Jezibelle’s voice twisted with pain.
“Kisei was under a willow tree, lying there, and I saw our brother— he struck him on the head. I heard the bones break, saw Kisei go limp through the hanging branches.” Her last words came out in a whimper.
Impa’s jaw relaxed and Jezibelle pulled away, backing up two steps as she shook her head and twisted her bruised ear to check for damage before she glared at her older sister. When she pinned her ears it was done without much force, and the angle was not as severe as it could have been. The pain would likely linger well into the next day.
But Impa’s eye had glazed over, as if she looked afar, and she pressed all four hooves tightly against the rocky earth as if afraid she would fall over. Her legs were rigid and shook with the effort it took to remain standing. “What?” she said, and her voice was breathy, weak. “Why?”
“Rurisk killed Kisei. The bastard abused him like no other when he was just a colt, biting and kicking and demeaning him while the mares all watched and whispered about his violence. But no one tried to help him, no one stepped forward and stood up to mighty Kisei to protect a colt who’d done nothing wrong except be born,” Jezibelle spat, and her ears lifted as she watched Impa process that information.
The black mare blinked, then focused her gaze on her sister. “Our brother’s name is Rurisk?” she asked, as if that was the only piece of information that was relevant.
“Yes.” She shook out her black mane and looked out over the edge of the switchback again, apparently bored by the conversation. It was old news to Jezibelle, and she’d come to terms with the event years ago. She applauded Rurisk’s actions because she understood what had prompted them, and to this day she did not mourn Kisei. Who could grieve for a stallion who’d tried to kill his newborn son simply because he was mute?
“And he killed our father.” Impa’s voice was flat.
“Did you know he leads with his left hoof? I thought that was the most interesting part,” Jezibelle said, and glanced back to her sister. Her tone was so pleasant she couldn’t have possibly been talking about their brother’s method of patricide.
The Prime Minister of the Peak took a slow, deep breath, and when she stepped forward it was with an explosive exhale. Her ears were pinned, her lips sealed in a thin line and her right eye was bright but sightless with fury. Jezibelle scuttled out of her way and felt one hind hoof slip on the uneven edge of the switchback, and she leaped forward to more stable ground before she watched her sister storm down the mountain.
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