One could hear a pin drop in the silence that follows her declaration. Rivaini’s face, ever composed, doesn’t show much, but the way she freezes in place is enough of an indication to know her words have done something to her, though she doesn’t know just how deep they’ve reached. Çiçek can read subtext with the best of them, but Rivaini is like a rip current, smooth on the surface with strong currents beneath; she hides her emotions just as easily, if not moreso, even, than stoic Faolain, masking them with stony resilience and a heavily-guarded heart. Çiçek enjoys her time with the bay, sees plain as day the spark that flickers between them… but she had always thought Rivaini wanted Fae to be the one to nurture that into flames, not her. Çiçek knows her openness with love - true love, not just conventional herd life - is atypical, and has been hurt before by assuming otherwise. She wouldn’t dare impose on a horse who didn’t feel the same, nor intrude on a relationship meant only for two and no more.

She should have paid better attention.

Iscariot cuts through the tension between the two mares with smooth, practiced strokes. Çiçek smiles faintly, grateful for the interruption. Guilt twists in her gut; she knows she won’t be here to see Siobhan’s foal be born, even if they don’t yet, and the weight of her still-kept secret sits like boulders on her striped back. Relief surges through her as lightness returns to Rivaini’s face, swept away soon after by a fresh wave of remorse. She can’t even enjoy the jokes her Guardian throws in her direction. Çiçek laughs half-heartedly, clearly troubled, and tugs at a piece of her creamy mane, her voice wistful in response to her impertinent questions.

“You are so nosy, bezelye.”sweet pea.”

The spotted mare presses her muzzle to the mare’s withers, absentmindedly tracing the jagged outline of the white stripe there. She considers for a moment, peering at Rivaini from under her pale lashes, tail swishing, and when she next speaks her voice holds the same disquiet as before. “I’m sure he would be more than happy to give you a demonstration come Autumn,” she says, snickering bitterly. “It would give you a good reason to come and visit me, since -”

Her voice trembles.

“Since I’ll be going back to the Cove with him before the baby’s born.”

She can’t bear it anymore. Çiçek pulls back, swerving to avoid the fallout of her words by bending her neck to grasp a feather between her teeth. Quickly she cranes to reach Rivaini’s mane, looking anywhere but into her eyes. “Now, come here and hold still.”

If she can skip right over the chasm she’s just created, maybe she won’t fall in.