For a moment they share the cavern and what Lanfear believed to be a silent understanding. Though he’d watched her enter, the male made no further efforts to approach the shadowy woman, nor did she invite him. There was no gratitude evident in the evasive flit of her gaze, no softening of the harsh, haggard lines of her expression. In fact, everything about her— from the tautness of her skin to the twist of her lips— continued to warn her companion away. Though he appeared to respect the boundaries her body language had defined, she was no more at ease now than in the first terse seconds of their meeting. Lessons learned and reinforced young had taught her that there was never a safe moment to relax her guard. That no moment of peace was as it appeared. And it was right; she was right.
No sooner had the points of her ears begun to droop than a rasping sound broke the silence, yanking them forward again. Teeth bared, Lanfear met the soft music of the boy’s voice with unbridled hostility— transformed, however briefly, into the twisted demon of a mare. But as the syllables flowed haltingly from one into the next, she forgot the veil of her hatred; let it drift— tattered and worn— to the ground beside her. In the absence of its weight, she even felt her skull tip lightly to one side as she stared at the sunset-bright stallion, dark eyes wide and wondering. Arched neck bobbing subtly in time to the rhythm of his speech, like a viper entranced by the snake-charmer’s flute.
How many had ever spoken to her so gently? With the exception of her mother, the answer until this moment had been none. And who could blame those who met Lanfear with hard anger or cool indifference, when she’d only ever given the same? The world she’d grown up in was too savage to allow for any sort of sympathy, too cruel to call to a softer side of her nature. But suddenly it was there anyway, a glimpse that might have lasted for the length of a single breath. A hesitation, if not a warmth— an uncertainty that made her look younger than her ears; that turned her back into the child she’d been before she turned wild.
And then as quickly as it had come, it was gone.
Lurching upright, the star-dusted mare turned towards the cave’s exit, every cell in her body yearning towards the freedom and safety the darkness beyond offered. But she didn’t go. Instead, the silent creature crept closer to the quivering body of the young stallion, ears still laced back in warning. One step, two, three, and soon she was close enough to feel the heat of his body; close enough to hear the beat of his heart. Close enough that if she were to breathe deeply, the curve of her belly might brush the swell of his. Her breath came in shallow pants, and a sheen of sweat darkened her inky coat. The whites of her eyes were visible again— wild with fear this time, not fury. And the distance between them— the infinitesimal gulf— held.
Held them apart...and Lanfear together.
