I think it’s a long story.

The delicate skin between Rhaella’s green eyes creases into the ghost of a frown when she hears this. What do you mean you ‘think’? It’s your own life, grouden, you either know or you don’t, she wants to say, but instead she presses her white lips firmly together. She must be patient, or she could sabotage everything she came here to achieve.

He may be crass, but somehow I doubt he’ll tolerate much crassness from me.

Her eyes follow him as he settles into a more comfortable position on the ground in the shade; after a heartbeat’s hesitance, she follows suit, folding her white-splashed legs neatly beneath her so that she faces Badr and yet still can keep an eye on her daughter. Shael. Rhaella glances briefly at the smoky black filly to see what she’s up to; when she finds that the girl is falling fast asleep sitting up in the shallow end of the pool, she cannot help it: she smiles ever so slightly.

At Badr’s second enquiry, she turns back to him and studies his face for a few moments, tracing the strange patch of bare skin on his face over and over with her eyes.

“Where did you get that?” she asks him pointedly, before meeting his gaze again. Her expression is guarded yet curious; she knows all too well that he may be reluctant to give her the details of what had given him such a blemish.