The grass of the Falls gave way beneath my feet to the gravelly lower slopes of the Peak on a trek I'd probably taken a thousand times before. This time, I wasn't crossing as a prisoner, my title (and dignity) stripped from me by a sour lover, but as a-restablished member of the Lagoon's leadership. In truth, I shouldn't be here.

Even I could acknowledge that.

After what had happened last time, the very last thing I needed to do was to return Khar'pern's gaze to the Lagoon (or to me), but I'd be lying if I said I knew how to stay away. Hell, I didn't even know what spawn we'd created last time as I'd left shortly after we'd given in to each other again. For all I know, it could be another Solas.

Or another... Ryvar.

As if the thought of her summoned her into my view, I caught sight of the gleaming figure of our eldest, outlined by the brutal tips of the Peak's mountains. She was a glowing vision of what her mother must have looked like at her age, though clad in a right, mahogany brown that glittered beneath the light. An emotion I didn't recognize swelled in my chest as I looked at her, and I found my gaze leaving her figure to search the area around her angrily, afraid I'd spot a bevy of suitors eyeing my little girl.

Gods, that phrase was weird to think, and like I did with most things that made me uncomfortable, I shuttled it mentally to the side. I wasn't a good dad. I wasn't father-like. I wasn't someone who gave a rat's behind what happened to the kids I sired across the islands. It didn't matter what happened to Ryvar, or what she thought of me, or what she did with her life.

Except it did.

An idea coalesced in my mind so fast that I didn't really have time to consider the ramifications before my feet were in order. All I knew was that if I could bring Ryvar to the Lagoon one or two key things would happen: either she would learn to understand the Lagoon and not treat it with the hatred that her mother did, or it would bring Khar'pern after her and I would get to unleash the twin demons of passion and anger that awoke each time I thought of my spicy gray lover.

Both, to me, were wins.

"Darling daughter," I drawled as I stalked closer, my nostrils fluttering in a soft whicker. I jogged forward to close off the path upward and then dropped my head and took a meaningful step toward her. "It's time for you to spend some time with your dear old dad and brother." And then, for reasons I didn't quite understand, some of the malice I'd intentionally attempted to inject into my tone softened. "I'll make sure you're safe. You don't need to worry."

And then I took another step forward, trying to mentally shake off whatever that was. "But you do need to get moving."

Stallion - Young Adult - 15.2 - Brown Overo