Desert

Solomon only barely spotted the silver-maned witch before she reached him, and could do little more than issue a soft command for the mares grazing neareest to him to gather the rest of the herd on the beach before he turned to address his newest nemesis.

He had hoped that summer on Tinuvel would be crueller to her somehow, that she would return to Salem in as poor of condition as he was, but she was not. There was a smugness to her that seemed to amplify the glow of her pregnancy, a cat-in-the-cream attitude that was obvious even before she began to offer her honeyed words. He offered a tight-lipped smile as she pretended to be pleased that he was not dead, a soft, nasal huff of breath signalling his doubt. Nyimara would no doubt celebrate the moment he was in his grave, although he knew without a doubt that she would dearly love to be the one to put him there.

"You do tend to poison everything you touch," he said coolly as she referenced the changes she'd wrought on TInuvel, hiding the sudden quiver of unease that shot through him. He had long known that his alliance with Fell (if their non-communication and mutual cease-fire could be considered an alliance) was shaky, so it would not be surprising to learn that he had defected. But Parvati was his daughter, and while he did not understand her strange lifestyle he had never tried to stop her. Surely she wouldn't change over? And there was Suleiman too - unless his son had grown too complacent and allowed Mariael to take over. Would she be loyal to him? Or would she seek her old crown once more?

Did he even want to seek out his old crown again?

The kneejerk answer was yes, of course. Solomon had always wanted to build a legacy his children would be proud to inherit, and while he had built one... he had also squandered it. Rebuilding now, in the twilight of his life, seemed like an uphill battle he had no idea how to start. It wasn't something he needed to mull over now, however, and so he stored the thought (already worn smooth by how much he'd considered it in the weeks passed) away for now.

In truth, Solomon might have ignored Nyimara's insinuation about the father of her child if it were not for the look of hatred that Asmodeus wore. He stood with the rest of her herd, having made no move to greet his father or the herd he had once been a part of. Asmodeus had been a dutiful son - if somewhat apathetic - since Xiomara had brought he and his sister to the Cove. Solomon had known he would be angry at being traded away, but he had hoped that Asmodeus would understand the position he had been in. Nyimara held the reins to his kingdom - he could not offer a land for a land, the Cove and it's alliances were too valuable for that. And of all of his children still at home, Asmo was the one Solomon trusted most to handle Nyimara's tricks and scheming without breaking.

Clearly he'd chosen wrongly if Asmodeus was already eating out of her hand. His ears swept back against his poll as he turned his own narrow gaze back to Nyimara. He'd not been able to hide his pain and displeasure and he knew she would take that small slice of victory to savor. Still, he managed to control his tongue before he said something hasty and redirected his attention to his son, knowing that the heartbreak was showing in his green eyes. "Congratulations, Asmodeus." It wasn't everday your son became a first time father, after all.

As Nyimara went on, trying to dig for more information about Xiomara, Solomon huffed a cruel laugh and raised his head, some of his old vim and vigor returning. "Unlike you, Nyimara, I don't seem struggle at keeping the loyalty of my lovers." His gaze flicked to Asmodeus as he mentioned lovers, hoping that his son would understand the implication. Nyimara's claim was not a death sentence. The comment was a low blow perhaps, considering what he knew of Bjorn's repeated abandonments and Aranck's disappearance, but he didn't need to be nice. Nyimara deserved none of his kindness. "She is here, of course." His chest was still heavy with the betrayal she'd revealed moments ago but he took heart from the knowledge that despite everything, Xiomara had not abandoned him. "I am certain you two will see each other again," he says cryptically, a wan, tired smile on his lips. His gaze departed from Nyimara's to search the crowd for Ophelia, hoping against all hope that the little red Atlanean mare was still present and well. He very badly wanted to take Nyimara to battle now over her claim, but the thought of putting the petite through two ocean swims back to back was foolish. Perhaps if he'd made allies here on Salem he might have risked it and hid her for a day or two until she was strong enough again, but as it was he would not press the issue.

Solomon