She still struggled with the feeling deep, twisting in her gut, telling her something was wrong. Every day which passed in peace for the Bay herd only calmed her for a moment, as if she’d found poor shelter during a storm and knew at any moment the wind would grow so great, it’d tear the trees and rocks around her which were keeping her safe. Expressing these worries to Maziel or to Zevulun did little – not that they were unhelpful, but because they did not feel the same way she did. They calmed her worries, telling her it made sense she would fear such a thing – as Queen of the Bay herd she had a responsibility not only to look after herself, but to look after those who trusted her with theirs and their loved ones.
Maybe they were right… maybe this feeling of unease inside her was just born of a worry to make sure she never failed the Bay herd.
Not the way Nephilim had.
A tight, sharp twist in her gut brought a sour taste to her tongue. It wasn’t fair of her to grow angry against his continued absence and the lack of answers as to his fate, she knew that… but having a mother whose mind was less than sound, who vanished throughout her life and forgot her often… Nephilim had been Mariael’s rock. Now that rock was gone, leaving her untethered, trying to keep her family safe and together, to keep her island a strong, united front against anyone who’d think to harass them.
Mariael was still pulled deep and hard into these thoughts when the approaching sound of hooves over rock pulled her mind from the pointless spiral it was diving into. She blinked, noticing Diamant willingly approaching her. She frowned, slightly, but it was no more than a ripple against the surface of a pond – she blinked, and her face was the mask of a leader once more, her head raised and her blue eyes pointed on him.
Yet since they’d talked, since she’d revealed more of herself than she had to anyone else in the herd, she always felt a point of gentility to him. A want to confess all her worries and fears to him, to go somewhere no one could see her be weak – except him – and she could lean her face into the burrow of his neck, inhale deep that strong, masculine, Tinuvel smell on his coat, and try to find some reprieve from her busy thoughts.
Instead, she watched him as curiously as she might any other herd member who outright approached her. “Diamant,” she countered, the beginning of a smile teasing the edge of her mouth. How easy would it be for her to sigh at his question and tell him the truth? How easy would it be to cave and tell him a nest of unease was tangled in her stomach and seemed to be growing stronger each day that passed seemingly uneventful.
But he was one of those she was meant to protect. His burdens could be hers, but hers shouldn’t be his.
“I’m fine.” She lied diplomatically, turning her curiosity to him to distract from her inner turmoil. “And you?”
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