She knew he was right but still Mariael hesitated to accept his offer.
The stallion before her had done nothing wrong in the past spare follow his instincts to pull one mare from one herd and place him into his own. It was the way the game worked and he could not be faulted for it. That he’d chosen her mother was likely no evil plot of sabotage, but Mariael, ever protective of her dam, had been distraught and only pushed furthermore at her father’s explosive reaction. Now, shouldering the guilt of her mother’s disappearance in her absence, the ugly, bubbling mess of Mariael’s unfit anger turned itself to him rather than reflect inward.
But, again, the stallion of Atlantis was right. Warm water would ease the tense ache of her bruises and fresh water would help wash the salty brine from her open wounds. Mariael knew where hot springs were within the Bay’s territory, but she knew nothing of Crossing Isle spare the most common areas of mingling.
She was tired, too. Mariael didn’t want to admit how exhausted she was, but she was. A fight with an older mare and a swim from Tinuvel to Crossing Isle had taken its toll which meant the energy to stay angry for something she knew she shouldn’t be angry for was practically nonexistent. The young mare huffed a heavy sigh of hot air as if to still make her point she was unhappy about being near him but said, “Fine. Show me.”
Inwardly she felt a tug, knowing she was behaving like a spoiled child when Ailill was willing to help ease her discomfort, but she only pulled her eyes from him with her ears turned back and outward.
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