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Nekharat’s ears tipped back and she offered a slight, thoughtful wrinkle of her nose at Vanya’s uncertain assertion. The idea that it was possible the stallion—apparently called Rougaru—would hurt her, left a bitter taste in the red mare’s mouth. However, this notion had also roused the young colt, who defended him in spirited fashion. Nekharat’s dark eyes flicked toward him, searching his tiny face for reasoning behind his outburst. Vanya was quick to correct him, ushering him away and continuing to explain that while she didn’t believe Titania was in grave danger per say, she knew she didn’t want her child born there, and that she had her hopes set on rescue by a stallion called Rille.

It certainly sounded like a complicated dynamic, and that even if Rougaru hadn’t been a true tyrant, he was still not exactly creating an atmosphere where those that lived with him felt safe—at least, the women anyway. Nekharat wondered if perhaps the colt felt differently because Rougaru was his father. However, if Vanya’s child was not sired by Rougaru, then he was lucky to be alive—Nekharat had heard of stallions murdering colts who did not perpetuate their bloodline. But since he clearly had fond feelings for him, she imagined he was not so ruthless. Perhaps Rougaru was simply one of those stallions who counted mares as property. In either case, Nekharat had no regrets and did not question that she had done the right thing by giving them the option to leave.

“I see,” she acknowledged. “You don’t know where to find this Rille, do you?”

Perhaps it was worth it to pay the stallion a visit, if for no other reason to see if he had become indisposed, or if Titantia’s hopes in him were indeed rightfully placed. From her assessment, there was a little time.

Wasp’s approach drew the Akhal-Teke’s attention now as she trotted over to greet her with a slight stiffness in her steps. Nekharat nickered back warmly, keeping her demeanor casual, but no doubt the Prime Minister was wondering why exactly there were two new faces with her. The dark mare was astute enough to assume they weren’t here for a casual visit and she can see the unrest behind her eyes as she asked if everything was all right.

“Better now,” she responded evenly, and then twisted her head over to the painted mare and her colt. “This is Vanya, and her son. They were prisoners of Paradise until recently, and have come here seek refuge for a time.”

Nekharat didn’t assume that Vanya wanted to remain here indefinitely—where she lived was her choice after all, and if in the time away from her former home that she decided she wanted to live somewhere besides the Peak, or even that she needed to go back, she was free to do so. With a casual flick of her tail, she returned her gaze to Wasp, sensing her tension. “Everything okay with you?"

NEKHARAT