It is a strange thing to feel relief at seeing my boss, given that we were not particularly close. But he was familiar, and in this unfamiliar landscape with its harsh outlines and bitter inhabitants, any small scrap of home made it feel like I could take a breath again. It would have been nice to simply talk with him over everything that I'd learned since coming here, but as per usual, the women here were quick to spoil my plans.

The painted mare that approached first was unfamiliar to me, not that many beyond Khar and Vogue were familiar to me. Her expression seemed almost bored of the game altogether as she approached and prompted Garmr for an answer. I smirked, but said nothing, if only because I could hear the rapid staccato of familiar hoof beats approaching. Of course, Khar'pern was on her way. Our bitter conversation had chased its way around my mind over and over and over again in the days since we'd had it. Neither of us were willing to bend which meant that one of us was going to have to break soon.

And though I was fond of her, it would not be me.

Garmr was quick to snap back at her, and I was hit by a mix of emotions. There was some pride in the fact that Garmr had come for me, although I did stand by my original promise to Khar'pern that I would find a way to free myself if I needed to. There was also amusement at his droll tones as he pointed out the very things that I had tried to remind Khar'pern of. Whether or not Marceline intended to kill Vane, and whether or not she was bragging about it did not matter. Vane was dead and his blood was all over the Peak's collective hooves.

Shock, however, did flicker to life in my eyes as his threat turned toward his own captives rather than the Peak itself. It was smart in a tactical sense. The Peak could defend itself. Garmr's captives? Not so much. I could only imagine that prideful little Arab girl trying to defend herself against him. It wouldn't even be a battle. I drew in a breath but forced my expression to return to neutrality, biting the inside of my cheek to stop myself from thinking too deeply about his words.

I was not the hero Khar'pern wanted, but I'd be lying if there wasn't a part of me that squirmed uneasily at the thought of captives dying for my freedom. My mind raced with options, trying to figure out some way to walk the tightrope that had suddenly been threaded between us. I trusted Garmr knew exactly what he was doing: demanding their obedience in freeing me at the risk of harming a mare beneath his care, thereby wounding their pride and in exchange restoring some of the Lagoon's.

Just as I knew the odds of the valkyries taking that - or, at least the odds of Khar'pern accepting it - were abysmally low. Just as I knew - having observed the aftermath of last autumn - that Garmr was not bluffing. Even if they did agree, it would only inspire them to come again, and again, and again.

But if I spoke up, I risked undermining Garmr the same way that Rutger had undermined me with Tyr's escape. Decisions, decisions, I thought to myself, knowing I needed to make a choice quickly or risk being at the mercy of either party. "Quite the pickle," I spoke up with my typical snark, throwing my gaze toward Khar'pern before rolling it back to Garmr, hoping he would trust me enough to go along with this. "See, that seems like a better deal than the one Khar here was trying to sell me on." I smirk, though my mind was racing, trying to find a way to thread the needle.

"She wanted me to pass on the message that the Peak was really, really sorry for what Marceline did and that in exchange for that apology we should send over our trinkets and she'd let me walk with our son." My gaze went back to Khar'pern in silent warning. I had told her she was asking for too much, although now I wondered if that were true. If I mattered enough that Garmr would come to bargain for me specifically, was he accidentally undermining my point? Was I worth the freeing of all our trinkets? I didn't know. Those sorts of mental gymnastics were best left for later.

"I'll sweeten the pot for you Khar, just so that the taste I leave in your mouth isn't entirely bitter," I wink, though my gaze does go back to the other painted mare I do not know. I wasn't sure where exactly she ranked among the sisters, although her face was vaguely familiar in the way that I would recognize her as a Peakie if I ever saw her outside. "You take Garmr's deal and I promise not to come back for Vogue and my son, and I'll take Solas with me, like you asked."

I didn't want to leave Vogue behind, but I felt like if we didn't give something, the Peak would not agree. And I wanted to be home so that I could step back into the running for my old role as if I'd never left. Plus, although it was probably a foolish, vain hope on my part, I remembered the way she'd looked at me when she'd shown me Khorvaire… and I hoped that meant that that wouldn't be the last I saw of the elegant little mare, no matter what I promised the Peak.

Stallion - Young Adult - 15.2 - Brown Overo