For a moment Iscariot believed that everything would be okay again, that the world would right itself and the precious bond he shared with his young friend would hold. How could it be any other way? The very possibility that Roisin might turn away from him for his decision was so alien— so inconceivable— that it had never once crossed the perlino’s mind. Even as the dun girl watched him with a dark and foreboding expression, he was convinced that she would see and understand, just as he understood her. Just as he understood that her anger came from a place of hurt— that it was only sorrow wearing a vibrant red skin— he thought that she would understand the choices he’d made as sacrifices intended to repay the ones that had been made for him time and again. Not because he felt that debt had to be repaid, but because he wanted to repay it. For the first time in his life, Iscariot had the opportunity to do something good, to amount to more than just a burden on his family and friends.

And didn’t it just figure that the worth he’d felt in giving something to this world amounted to nothing more than a pretty lie in the end.

No, Roisin snarled harshly, turning toward him with an expression of such hostility that the pale stallion forgot where he was and skittered away a couple steps. Bringing himself closer to the brink in a literal sense, even as he tumbled over that brink emotionally. Because every harsh syllable his companion spoke was like a dagger in his chest, and soon Iscariot was bleeding out within himself, breathing shallow gasps of the cold thin air as tears began to trickle down his cheeks. He’d thought that Roisin would understand, but she didn’t, she didn’t. Instead she implied that he was a coward, driving that point home with enough force to leave him reeling and speechless. Because it had taken every bit of bravery that Iscariot possessed to say yes. And because it was a mark of how much he’d grown— of how much his worth in his own eyes had grown, in no small part due to this single woman’s regard— that he was capable of such a decision.

True, he didn’t view himself as a worthy father— how could he, when his own was no fit example? How could he, when even Roisin’s hale and healthy sire had let her down? But he’d still let go of enough of his self-contempt to believe that he could do something right, even if that something was only providing the means by which Faolain and Rivaini might share a piece of one another. And now… now that small shred of self-confidence hung in tatters, torn to ribbons by the way Roisin glared at him, by the sharp stamp of one hoof that signaled her anger and her hurt. She hated him now. She hated him enough to question whether he truly cared, even when she’d already heard the answer in his previous words. Of course he cared, but he cared about Roisin too. And about Faolain, and Rivaini, and Hades and Siobhan and everyone.

But he suddenly realized— he realized that he cared about the golden mare the most. Enough that he’d given up everything to stay with her. Enough that it hurt to recognize that that sacrifice meant nothing, as well. That one way or another, Iscariot would not be permitted to stay at her side. He would either be forced back to the Ridge, or forced away from her by the gulf that would continue to grow between them if he stayed here in the Peak.

"I do, Roi. I told you that I do." He answered softly, feeling the poignant ache of those words and their double meaning. I care about you, he might’ve continued. I care about you enough that what you would ask is impossible. Because I can’t imagine my life without you. But he couldn’t confess what he felt, couldn’t risk having his companion turn away from him in spite of it. Instead, the ivory male turned and forced himself to take the first step that would carry him down the mountain. The second, the third. Iscariot wasn’t even certain where he was going, besides away. If Roisin was so determined that he leave, then there was no place left for him here anymore.

Perhaps there had never been a place for him anywhere, and never would be.