She brightened at the sound of the Peak, which was disappointing but not the end of the world. He found himself often passing along the rocky lowland of her tall mountains as he passed to and from his home and might yet have a chance to get to know her once the newness of the isles had worn off.
Solomon didn't often allow his heart to wander these days; he'd been burned repeatedly in recent years and opening himself to other relationships required more vulnerability than he'd been comfortable with. This was the first time he'd made the conscious decision to try again, and he irony of his own transformation from daring heartthrob with questionable morals to boring King whose title scared away those that might otherwise mesh well with him, was not lost on the tobiano. Back when he'd placed his own goals above all others, he'd had more suitors and interest than he'd known what to do with. Nowadays, it seemed as though his cultivation of better morals and upstanding behavior had actually reduced both his luck and his standing in the world.
He did not need to be a mind reader to see the direction the situation was going. It was Chelle and Cain all over again, only Solomon now knew better than to devote time trying to change the mind of a mare that was certain of her choice.
She spoke kindly, offering careful practiced words to appease him, but it was not
him she was waiting on. The fact that his question hung, unanswered, was evidence enough, even if he wasn't watching her stare at Rilke with puppy dog eyes at the same time. Her final statement sealed his estimation of the situation he forced himself to bite his tongue as she implied the eventual outcome.
She would leave the crossing with a new home, but it would not be his home. Not where she belonged.
It would be to a newcomer - the Forest he'd said - with nothing to offer her but a home that was most certainly empty, if Persephone no longer ruled there. Perhaps she dreamed of some fairytale romance where he would make her his lead and promise her the moon and stars, but Solomon knew better. A stallion that did not hesitate to interrupt someone else's claim would never limit himself to one mare.
The better part of valor would be to remain here, protecting her, until she voiced her actual choice, but Solomon wasn't sure his heart was in it. He had had such high hopes the moment that he'd seen her that the thought of standing here while she waited for Rilke to muster the courage to ask for her hand was disheartening.
"I hope so too," he answered, skipping right over the question the two of them had both ignored.
"But I'm guessing from your careful and eloquent choice of words that your decision has already been made," he said calmly, controlling his tone so that it did not reveal how much her hasty choice stung.
"So I will leave the two of you to get to know each other."
He dipped his head in Carpathia's direction, but lifted his gaze back to Rilke. The gentleness he'd offered her melted away to be replaced by a stern mask that, while not hostile, was not at all friendly either.
"But if I find that you have let harm come to her, or that you have neglected her with carelessness, you will pay for it." He murmured, ears still tipped back.
"Word passes quickly on these islands." He turned one final time toward the little mare and steadied his breath before offering a parting promise.
"And if you end up finding his company lacking, you are always welcome in the Cove, Carpathia."
Statement made, Solomon paused only long enough to give Carpathia a chance to answer if she wished before departing for the Cove, where the familiar pine trees and security of home might soothe his wounded pride. It was strange that such a singular moment - seeing her dancing in the pre-storm's light - could have spawned a veritable web of possible futures in his mind, but he could not deny that it had. To abandon them now felt cowardly, but to stay and try and press for a hand that was clearly not his to hold felt irrational and desperate. Better to cut his losses now before he could imagine anything further than the warmth of her at his side, or the possibility of their young children growing up in the security of a family that could protect them.
Perhaps they'd both be lucky and Rilke would disappear like so many others had before him, drawn here by the promises of the isle only to disappear as quickly and as suddenly as the isle's many storms. It was an unlikely thing to hope for, but Solomon knew it would be a long time before he got Carpathia out of his mind.
Stallion | Dutch Harness Horse Mutt | Champagne Grullo Tobiano | 17 Hands | The Cove