As Faolain descended the Ridge and neared the intruders, she felt the tug of her heart as Rivaini followed behind her. It had become a nearly impossible task for any individual or event to separate the two, and the arrival of Rougaru’s messengers did not come close to succeeding in that regard. Her constant companion sidled close to Faolain’s inky hide, and she acknowledged Rivaini’s presence with a gentle press of her body against her lover’s. Subtle enough that it could not be seen by Monster even just a few strides away, it was a secret, intimate gesture that soothed Faolain’s irritation enough that she did not tighten her ears against her neck at the smug expression on the painted stranger’s face.

Faolain remained silent and impassive as the other woman seemed to size her and Rivaini up. She continued to ignore the child, though she could not help a prickle of amusement at his presence. What had Monster been thinking, bringing her spawn into enemy territory? Did she think the Ridge guardians would treat him differently than an adult, despite his drastic disadvantages in size and strength? Faolain did not coddle even her own children, though she had made a bit of an exception for Hades after Cullen’s attack. Foals needed to learn the harsh truths about the world into which they would be thrust, not protected from them until the very last moment. Nature did not favor the soft.

“You can explain your recent actions in Paradise,” Monster demanded, and Faolain listened with cold disinterest. Not a muscle twitched as she stared down the other mare — even her tail hung motionless at her heels, pushed into motion only slightly by the breeze. The black mare might have been a statue.

“I can,” she agreed simply, her expression unchanging. “But why should I? I owe you nothing. I don’t even owe you these moments of safety in my territory, and yet, I am feeling generous today.” Her gaze slid coldly to the red colt at Monster’s side. The yearling was looking ferociously at Rivaini, mimicking her posture as a protector, as though he stood a chance against either mare, who had long ago left behind their forgiving nature. Faolain had begun to harden first, and had turned to more savage methods of leadership, but Rivaini was catching up. In a way, it was flattering to watch Monster’s son mirror Rivaini. It meant the silver bay was doing something right, and it meant that the yearling was intimidated. That was good — the sooner he learned that no one was going to show him mercy, the better chance he had of surviving adulthood.

Faolain’s hard copper gaze returned to Monster, and still, she did not move, or show a sliver of emotion in her chiseled face. “I suggest you leave,” she said, her voice soft and unkind. Monster did not know Faolain, but Faolain knew enough about Monster from this very brief encounter that she was confident in her ability to drive the painted mare away. She was also still hyper aware of the colt, who had the potential to make a very effective bargaining chip if Rougaru’s Queen did not back off. The black Ridge mare still felt little more than irritation at the presence of Monster and her son, but she had long ago broken the habit of letting her irritation grow into anger before she handled a problem.