Rehoboam had learned the hard way how to hold his own among the bachelors; how to square his shoulders and raise his head just so to indicate his authority, how to pin his ears and drive forward to encourage the less experienced back into line. But Nyimara was no Lagoonie, and here, he was not the Marauder, just a prize that she had won: a prisoner among the Dunes. It was not as jarring of a change as it might have been for a herd stallion, but it was enough.
At first, it almost seemed as though his ploy would be successful. He could see her stare at him with baited breath, but as he suspected, she read his answer for what it was. She already knew. He didn't yet know what this meant for him, but he doubted that it was good. While Rehoboam had not yet made the connection between Rougaru and Nyimara, he remembered the upheaval of what had happened on Tinuvel. And he remembered how hard his father had struggled with his decision; Reh wouldn't put words into his father's mouth, but he knew how much Solomon distrusted the Lagoon at the time, and would not have put any mare he cared about into harm's way.
But Nyimara was different. She was dangerous and wicked, and per the story shared by the little red mare that had escaped Aranck's abuses, Nyimara was just as guilty as the bastard Arch stallion had been. Queen Ysabel had also pushed Solomon in the direction of Lagoon imprisonment, and had made no attempt to hide her loathing for the silver-haired witch. Rehoboam supposed that their motivations wouldn't really matter in the end; what had been done was already in the past, far beyond his capability of changing it.
But why him, and why now, still needed answered.
Rehoboam said nothing as she named him son of Solomon, but his silence and the tension that radiated over every muscle of his figure seemed to be answer enough for her. She giggled in the silence and danced away from him again, clearly celebrating her victory and he still said nothing, only followed quietly along as she pranced ahead.
Silence filled the space between them as they reached the water, and he was loathe to break it. He didn't know why, but it felt like speaking first would make him seem desperate, and he refused to give Nyimara another weapon to use against him. It wouldn't have mattered anyway as the lure of the water was inescapable once he was close and he eagerly dropped his head to drink from it as soon as their hooves stopped. It occurred to him that it was dangerous to drop his guard around her, but he doubted that she had gone through all of the effort to drag him here just to off him at an oasis.
He contemplates her question as the water drips from his chin, meeting her gaze solidly despite the worms of unease wriggling through his belly. The truth was that he had gone in search of his mother, chasing the tail end of the rumors that had followed her disappearance. It was said that she had once belonged to the Lagoon, had once been a beloved daughter of someone important. Her abandonment of him had hurt at a young age, and even with Eve's gentle parenting, he had never been able to shake the overwhelming feeling of not being good enough for her. It felt embarrassing to admit, and so he had told no one beyond the old paint stallion and the Kingbreaker since then, and did not feel particularly inclined to give Nyimara that ammunition either.
But he
could lie.
Despite his title, Rehoboam was still a novice manipulator, and unlike his father had not honed his claws on the art of social graces. But he could try. He could claim to have been escaping his father's style of rule, or claim to be the unwanted bastard child that had been ignored and abandoned to take on his own dark path. Or perhaps he could claim that he'd gone in search of a mare to love as his own.
Perhaps he could blend the two, and mix a little truth with a little lie. Claim to have gone looking for
her, rather than for his mother. That felt too bold though, and too much like a falsehood. Perhaps if he had tried to approach her back then he could make it believable, but he doubted it. Maybe even apologize for the decision his father had made, or claim to have wanted some different future for her. But he'd been a boy then, and to imply he'd been capable of understanding all of the nuances would be ridiculous. Best to stick to simple truths.
"I went looking for someone that didn't want to be found," he finally said, neutralizing the truth by removing his connection to the someone he'd referenced. He shifted his shoulders in the equivalent of a shrug before finishing his thought.
"By the time I realized I was wasting my time, the brothers had voted me in as the Marauder so I didn't leave."
He studied her for a moment, still unsure of what her motivations were.
"I hear it's different now than it was under Cullen." In part, he was curious to see if she would react to the name of the old, much-loathed Boss. Everyone claimed that she had been named his companion shortly before he was demoted, but that could mean a lot of different things. For all that he knew, the two of them were related the same way that Jaws and Rade had been.
"Thats what... five questions I've asked now, and you've given me two answers?" He tilted his head, a terse smile darting across his lips.
"Come now Nyimara, you got your way. I'm here aren't I? If you're going to make me suffer through internment on Salem, you could at least let me know why."