Falls

He was vile. When he spoke his assent it came out like a hiss and El Aran shuddered her black coat as if discouraging flies from settling. Akhal-Tekes had always been conniving— even the ones who composed half of her own herd gave her the shivers sometimes with their uncanny ability to manipulate words. In some cases she preferred the high-strung antagonism most Arabians portrayed: at least they were straightforward in their hate and ambitions. The Gods only knew what this Akhal-Teke’s motives were for helping her. The seer didn’t trust him, and she kept her full attention trained on the bay stallion as she tried to predict his next course of action.

"So it shall be," she said in reply to his reassurance that the deed would be done, and in a timely manner nonetheless. El Aran missed her Desert. It occupied her thoughts like a ceaseless itch under her skin, one she was incapable of relieving. A small part of her wondered what Orhan would do when he found out about her involvement in A’idah’s disappearance, or death, because it was unlikely her son wouldn’t eventually discover the mechanics behind the Arabian’s absence. That part of her was very small, however, and she would not pay it much attention until after the deed had been done.

It was while she was distracted by this tiny worrisome thought that the Akhal-Teke blindsided her with his own demand. She cursed herself mentally for not seeing it coming— it was so typical of an Akhal-Teke to amend his own oath in such a way that would allow him to gain more than the other individual involved. El Aran’s ears pinned. She felt her heart skip a beat, recognized the familiar tightening of her lungs as her airway thinned from anxiety. Next her breathing would become labored, if she thought about it too much or allowed the small setback that Maslakhat presented overwhelm her.

"When I call the Desert home once more, you may cross the sands as often as you please," she spat. "But if I catch you lingering at an oasis or anywhere within sight of my herd, I’ll chase your sıska göt straight to Cehennem. By Aşk do I swear it." The black mare tipped her chin up and stared at the taller horse as her nostrils flared to draw in a deeper breath. The last thing she needed was to have a full-blown episode right in front of the enemy. As soon as their conversation was over, she would retreat to recover somewhere in total solitude.