She does not stay across from him as she should, but he makes no move to stop the presumptuous once-Queen as she takes a place at his side that was no longer her own. Whatever feelings the silver-maned witch harbored at the news that her lover - the one who had come to her by choice - had abandoned her, she hides. Asmodeus expects nothing less. She is a master of manipulation, and he does not expect her to hand him any clues as to her feelings.

Except when the news of his sire's demise breaks. That he can tell bothers her, and there is a strange sort of grim, dark satisfaction that comes from the knowledge that he had taken that from her. Asmodeus owed Nyimara a great deal for her role in jumpstarting his life, btu Solomon - and the retribution he was owed - had always belonged to Asmodeus, not to her, at least in his own mind.

She asks why, but he says nothing, letting the silence be an answer in and of itself. He is not ready to admit the truth, not ready for the world to know - if ever - but she will draw her own assumptions and this time, he will let her. Lying will only erode what trust they have between them - fragile and fleeting though it is - and so he does not even attempt it.

As he continues on, however, elaborating as to their current circumstances, her control slips and he savors the way tension explodes over her body and glitters in her eyes. She is furious, and for once, her anger is sweet to taste. She abandoned him. Abandoned them all. And while he was grateful - in a twisted way - for the new opportunities it gave him, it did not change the fact that she had disappeared without a word, with their young child in tow.

And now she was back, explanation-less, reeking of someone else.

He wasn't required to be forgiving, or nice, or apologetic. She had taught him that much. Hell, he wasn't even required to be kind or to give her the benefit of the doubt. He would be within his rights to assume the worst of her and act accordingly, but he was, admittedly, curious. Nyimara was smart, so he assumed she had a reason for disappearing. Assumed she had a purpose beyond wanting to wander to beds that were not her own to lie in.

He snorts softly as she shifts into coyness, a grin touching his lips that does not touch his eyes. He hums softly, rewarding her choice of words, but he does not believe her. Cannot afford to, really. If he doesn't treat Nyimara like a bowl of lovingly sharpened knives she will be all too willing to cut his throat to remind him later.

Not by choice, she murmurs, and his eyes narrowed, uncertain how he felt about that. He was supposed to believe her of course, to not doubt the trauma she was claiming to have gone through, but he would be stupid to forget who she was and what she was capable of. Nyimara was more than capable of not only kicking his rump but burying his body and telling others that he'd been the one to attack her. And if he looked at this situation objectively - really, really objectively - she had more reason to lie than to tell the truth. A disgraced, displaced queen returning home to the one stallion that could restore or demote her had no reason to claim she had lain in another's bed by choice even if it was the truth.

That doesn't mean she's lying, a voice in his mind whispered, suspiciously Solomon-like. And it doesn't mean she's telling the truth either. He answered himself, refusing to give in.

"Then give me his name." Asmodeus answered coldly, ears tipped back against his poll. "And I will make sure he pays for taking what didn't belong to him." He was careful of his wording, of his tone. He would hold back his own private doubts about the veracity of her claim while expressing outward support with every intention of getting the name of her so-called attacker while also not acknowledging her claim to being his queen. Either the man had taken what she didn't want to give, in which case he would deserve retribution, or he hadn't and would pay for taking what she shouldn't have given away. Either way, Asmodeus had every intention of hunting him down.

For what, he wasn't certain yet. Delivering his baby momma with a bow and a 'Good Luck' card was a definite possibility, but so was the sort of slow agonizing death she had wished upon his sire. Not just because he'd touched what didn't belong to him, but because he had touched Nyimara. For as difficult as their relationship was, for as much distrust and suspicion, there was attraction too. Wheedling his way into her good graces so long ago hadn't just been about giving himself a sort of autonomy. He did, genuinely, despite everything, like Nyimara. He was happy to have her as his queen before and could imagine them taking the islands by storm together, as he'd promised.

But his pride and heart were both battered by the last year, and those hopeful dreams he'd once held were slipping like sand through his cupped hands.

Adult Stallion 16.0HClassic Champagne ChimeraSolomon x Xiomara