As grief struck Dances, Mariael felt the pull of emotions grasp harder inside her. She witnessed the same panic she had surely shown when Nephilim had first gone missing and she knew how unspeakably wretched that feeling was. But to step forward and offer comfort was no easy thing to Mariael – if she did so, she knew she would break. Breaking was not an option, not when she’d remained as strong as she had thus far. So she stood, a wall, wavering briefly as her eyes watered but blinking away the tears before they could grow. She needed to be strong for Maziel, for Zevulun, and now for Dances. She needed to be strong for everyone.
Mariael just kept telling herself that, because dealing with emotions had never been what she was good at.
Dances, moving, pulled her attention from the mental battle she was currently facing. She watched him process grief and disbelief into anger and then… and then he ran. Mariael, chin high, watched him with her ears pointed forward and her lips softly broken open, almost ready to call him back to her. But at what he said… at what he promised, she closed her mouth and sighed a hard, long breath of misty white air. The sea breeze – light, mostly blocked by the hills which made the Bay – barely played over her skin as Dances plunged back into the waves.
“Safe travels, Dances.” His Queen spoke under her breath and stood watching until she could see him no longer.
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