If any doubt remained in the dark mare, it was stilled by the words that fluttered through her pale hair — and her heart. That’s all the explanation I’d ever need to know. And if there was anything that could affirm Zevulun as a man worthy of every ounce of love she could give, this moment was it. Sabriel knew, from his understanding, that she could live a number of lifetimes and never be the ivory stallion’s equal. Could give him everything that she was and never come close to matching what she received, even from his divided heart. It was all that she could do to continue speaking instead of tucking herself into his neck and surrendering herself to him, as she had that first night that they’d met. To think that he could have seen her in the pool and kept walking, leaving her to greet her lost lover with careless abandon—

—but no, he couldn’t have. Because then he would not be Zevulun, and would not hold every place in the heart he’d pieced back together with such care.

Our children always come first when they need us, he finished with the warmth that was his, and his alone. Sabriel smiled up at him, doing what she could to bury her concerns for their own child. If anything had happened to the colt, surely his father would have let her know. But there must not be good news either, for his silence on the subject to continue as long. Heart sinking, the white-marked woman struggled to hold her grief inside of her so that Zevulun would not see. Time would, perhaps, heal the wounds her departure had inflicted. And if it didn’t, there was nothing she could do in any case. She could only love Lior in the same way that she loved all of her children, and take solace in the fact that he had lived where Uriah had not.

She was just chasing the idea that perhaps Lirael could help with healing any breach when her lover’s voice called her back to the present. Come on. Let’s get off the beach. Sabriel could stand here forever if it was in the spotted stallion’s company, but she walked willingly at his side when he began to move inland. And though she drank in the familiar sight of the Prairie in brief glances, for the most part the silver black’s gaze remained on Zevulun. Holding to him as if she was afraid he would disappear every time her eyes flitted away. Watching the familiar lines of his body and glimpsing the less-familiar in it as well. The stiffness of his steps with one hind leg, the subtle paler strands visible amidst the cream of his mane.

Time had taken from him, but the cremello stallion was no less in her eyes. If anything, he was more beautiful for her absence. Warmer for the coldness she’d known these past seasons, and worth more than any gift that life could have granted her. Still, Sabriel knew from experience that the years could be coaxed from another with the right offering. And — nipping his neck gently before she bunched her hindquarters and surged forward into a gallop — it was one gift that she’d always been able to give freely. Laughing breathlessly and living the memory of their race through the snow, she glanced over her shoulder and smiled at him.

“Come on, old man. Race you to the stream — last one there will have to answer any question of the winner's choosing.”