Xiomara stands for his answer, and although his words were hurtful, she does not flinch. Instead, she lets him feel nervous beneath her icy gaze. Clear how uncomfortable he was for the way he stared down at the ground, pawing at it. “That is a colt’s answer.” she says, somehow keeping the bite from her tone. Instead, it is the emotionless cold tone reserved for everyone that was not close to her. “Do you think a real Queen ever waits until she is summoned?”


A snort leaves the draft mare, her breath seen upon the cold air, before she turns away. Though she had come to see him, the mare knew she could make better use of her time on Tinuvel than this. It was a reminder to the warrioress why she had not left her post upon the Shore for Ironclad, a reminder on how young he truly was. It was stupid to think she would be treated with anything different than a colt’s way of thinking. “When you are ready to grow up, young king, then come and visit me.” Xiomara said, glancing over her shoulder at the colt one last time before making her departure.