No, she taunted, and went so far as to brush her silken shoulder against his two-toned one. As she leaned close, he held his breath, terrified that the same all-consuming desire that had washed over him at Celestine's and Shenzi's and Titania's proximity would undermine his self-control here too. Rehoboam wouldn't argue that his... indiscretions with the aforementioned mares were well-advised. But the trouble they might bring seemed infinitesimal compared to what a child with Nyimara might be like.
Thankfully, it was nothing more than a brush of skin and she retreated, taking with her his sigh of relief. He was no more attracted to Nyimara than he had been before. Which wasn't to say that she wasn't attractive; up close it was easy to see why she'd gone through a string of different men. He doubted that few of his hormone-driven brothers would have been able to resist her if she'd tossed her flaxen tail at them and sauntered the way that she did now.
"I can imagine there is," he answered dryly at her assertion about her flirting style. He had no doubt in her capabilities, even if he still was unsure of how he was supposed to play into her plans. The tobiano watched silently as she floated up the dune before him, craftily placing herself above him and waiting - yet again - for him to join her.
He does not hurry. Both because he isn't particularly bothered with impressing her, and because - quite frankly - it was goddam
hot. Where her fine features and acclimated coat seemed to be dealing with Salem's heat easily, his coat remained dark, although it was now sweat rather than seawater that dripped from it. Still, he does not falter as he pursues her, still agreeable for now. He could only hope that she would stop his march inland soon and bring him to some sort of drinkable water.
Her question makes him stiffen, and he turns his narrowed gaze at her silently in contemplation. His origin was the one secret he had held closest to his breast since joining the Lagoon, and was the last thing he wished to discuss with someone like Nyimara - who wouldn't hesitate to use it to her advantage. If Solomon ever learned of where his son had gone and just what he had become, Rehoboam had no doubt that his father would bury him. And while he had been seriously considering committing that particular form of suicide in exchange for Celestine's safety... he wasn't about to share that detail with Nyimara.
... but more importantly,
why was she asking? It was such a random question, thrown at him from seemingly nowhere and without context, which meant that it was either a throwaway question that he could easily avoid or one that she already knew the answer to. Assuming that Nyimara had asked him a throwaway question directly after he'd probed into what she wanted from him seemed foolish and below the level of intelligence he suspected lurked behind those glittering eyes. But how would she even know that? He'd been nothing more than a gangly colt when everything with Aranck went down and hadn't participated in her exile, nor had he had anything to do with her treatment in the Lagoon either.
"Either you know the answer to that already, Ny," he murmured calmly, despite the muscles working in his neck. He really didn't consider himself to be familiar enough with her to be trading nicknames, but he was extremely uncomfortable.
"Or it doesn't matter." Again, his dark tail lapped at his hocks and he leveled his gaze at Nyimara.
"So you tell me Nyimara, where did I spend my foalhood years?"
He cocked his hip and allowed perhaps a moment to pass speaking again.
"And perhaps you might clue me in as to why it matters to you?"