Kore became unhinged; prying herself apart from the inside out, the rusted nails that held the feeble scraps of tarnished metal and sun-bleached wood she was composed of collapsing in a pile of broken pieces at Maslakhat’s feet like some kind of condemned structure he had the misfortune of witnessing as it broke down. If there was once soundness in the dark Arabian’s construction it was gone now, reshaped into something else entirely—something different, but with the memory of what it once was or should have been.

She spat and whirled around, sending saliva and sand flying in her rage—continuing to place the blame on everyone else but herself. She refused to acknowledge her part in all this, her responsibility to communicate her needs, her fears, her sadness before she came close to a breaking point. Kore was dysfunctional. Perhaps she always had been.

Neither did she consider his perspective, and it was abundantly clear that she could not in her current state. Maslakhat was now sure he could not repair the damage that she insisted he had done. There was no rebuilding her. Such a thing was now a fool’s errand, and in no way did the golden bay stallion desire to put her back together if she was going to act like a petulant child incapable of rationalization.

In fact, despite Kore’s accusation, she was the only one of the others he’d found in the Commons—all of them, from Ak Burun to Merwerit to Sidika, had come to the Dunes and found him first. And it clearly did not occur to her that the only two women carrying his children were the two that stayed in the Dunes during the season of their heat instead of going off on a wild goose chase to find a mare that apparently no one had heard of: Ak Burun’s far-flung Shararat. Despite these realities, he was no longer willing to play a game of finger-pointing and thus he does not correct her. Her deafness ensured it a waste of his breath.

“You are so upended because of YOUR own choices Kore,” he rebuked, staring hard and deep into her tear-stained face. “And until you find yourself fit enough to open your eyes and face the reality of cause and effect, you will never uproot this seed of self-loathing you’ve planted deep inside your heart.”

Maslakhat looked away and walked slowly by her to the top of the dune where the morning sun crested the edge of the horizon, casting long shadows across the land. Sighing, he closed his eyes. “A shame,” he said quietly.


MASLAKHAT

ateş düştüğü yeri yakar