Impa was surprised to hear the mare claim kinship with her, but that surprise faded as soon as Jömungandr introduced herself and spoke the name of her sire. The black mare did not recall either name but she heard Arsael’s influence in both of them, and something stirred in her heart. It had been a long time since she thought of the powerful brindled mare who had shown with every breath what true strength was to a tall black filly in the Forest. But she was not able to dwell on such happy memories: Lyden’s former pleasant voice was gone, replaced by a scathing accusation and words spoken with such passion they hardly made sense.
It was uncanny how the stallion seemed able to read her thoughts, despite the fact that Impa had said and shown nothing to betray her true intent in the woods.
Anger flared in her, not for his petty demands (the stallion sounded so petulant, like a foal stamping a hoof in front of a parent who has done him some imagined wrong) but for how personally he seemed to hold her accountable for Skylar’s presence at the Peak. She quelled her temper. The politician had not risen to the rank of Prime Minister for nothing, after all, and even though lately her temper had been less controlled than usual she was still a master of words. Every horse had an ego (and it seemed stallions were more fragile than mares in that regard), and it appeared that the theft of Skylar —an event Impa was entirely unaware of until now, having just come from fighting a bachelor in the Lagoon— had bruised Lyden’s pride. She would treat Lyden with the respect and suspension of judgement he had yet to show her.
Impa put her personal irritation aside and viewed the stallion as ignorant of what the mountain of mares really stood for. It was not his fault. Few seemed to have any real notion of what the Peak was for, least of all the males who lorded over “their” mares, treating their herds like pieces of property instead of individuals. It struck Impa as very peculiar that Skylar had not enlightened her lover already, at least a little bit, about the Peak. Impa had been under the impression that Lyden was an understanding stallion, one who had taken Skylar in after she had been raped and raised the foal and earned the trust and love of her blue friend.
The interaction between the stallion and herself left much to be desired. Impa had never really cared for stallions anyway (each one she met proved the mindset of the last: they liked to own and overpower mares and dominate everyone, because they could not possibly live a stable, happy life without controlling the lives of others) and her dark eye flickered to the mare who stood like a wall beside Lyden. “What I stand for, Lyden, is safety and freedom for all mares, as do all of my sisters.” He gaze swung back to the stallion. “Skylar has told me herself that the Peak is her home, and I have seen her return to the mountain time and time again. She is your lover, is she not? Would you really begrudge her the happiness of choosing her own home?” It astounded her that the stallion might think that if a mare chose to live anywhere but his own territory it somehow meant faithlessness or that her feelings for him had changed. Stallions truly did have fragile egos. “No one is preventing you from visiting her and your children on the Crossing.” Her eyes flickered back to Jörmungandr, noting the silent arrival of a colt at the mare’s side as she continued, “Do not attempt to tell me that your herd here would not be safe in your absence— it will only show me that your priorities are less on what is best for Skylar and her children and more on what is most convenient for you.”
Impa would never understand how mares came to love stallions. Each one she met disgusted her more than the last, and though she was willing to tolerate Lyden’s presence on the Peak for the sake of Skylar she no longer had any wish to endure it on her own time. It wasn’t likely Rurisk would share his home with anyone, and her brother was easily as vigilant as the two horses beside her. He would have arrived by now if he did still live within the trees.
But Impa knew he did not. His scent was gone, erased by those who called the Forest home now.
“It was good to meet you, Jörmungandr,” she said, and dipped her head courteously to the mare, her eyes glancing over the colt again. “I would like to speak with you again, to share stories of our family. But perhaps another time.” Impa exhaled softly and looked to Lyden. “The only stallions we reject at our borders are rapists and those who intend our sisters harm. If you come to visit Skylar you will be admitted, but if I catch wind of you trying to coerce or drive her away from the Peak for your own selfish needs, I will come for you.” Her eyes narrowed, ears falling, and she struck the ground with one hoof for emphasis, though the action jarred her injured shoulder and she had to suppress a grunt.
The Prime Minister of the Peak lifted her ears and turned away from the two horses from the Forest to head for the edge of the territory, her stride even and relaxed and her head held high.
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IMPAZIENZA