They settle into a companionable silence as the volume of the world grows around them. The jungle is so much more alive than the Dale had been. Before, the creatures had grown still as the sun fell from its perch. They would take shelter in the woods, on the mountain; the periwinkle-hued meadows were barren by the twilight hour. He would walk through them alone as a boy, feeling like the prince he was as the earth hushed more for every star that lit above his head like a crown.
Now, the world is never fully quiet. Ischia is a different beast altogether. When the moon rises here, one chorus simply replaces the other. Day songs fade into night songs; birds resign and insects pick up where they leave off. Ashley swats his tail at a fly and the young stallion can barely hear it over the din. The sound is swallowed by the jungle, swallowed by the noise that permeates every dark corner and hidden grove of their home. There is no escaping, no peace. He finds that he doesn’t truly miss it.
Potential chaos lies just beneath his skin, running hot like lava under the earth’s crust.
So when a brand-new ruckus seems to shake the trees around them, a part of Sabrael is undeniably excited. Less so when it is Wallace who emerges and promptly deposits herself at the magician’s feet. She sidles up to him like they have done this before, like she belongs there, and the ease of it tugs at something inside the bay roan. He can’t put a name to the feeling but it’s there nonetheless, staring at him as he similarly stares at the prone pair.
“I have lived here since the island opened for us. Where else would I have been?” His voice is even; there is no give nor take to his tone as he regards Wallace. Only a small downturning of the corners of his lips shows any sign of his discomfort as Ashley tightens around her like a python. She has gotten herself into this mess, but he wavers between wanting to help her or help himself by leaving. He is drawn to the dark-eyed girl. And whether it is a late-blooming, boyish enthusiasm for the other sex or something more, he doesn’t know. He only wants to explore it further (if only to understand himself better) and finds his attempts blocked by a powerful man he rather admires.
In the end, his throat doesn’t burn with words (only those left unsaid). He lets her learn the hard way of what it means to bite off more than she can chew. If it is what she wants, he is sure Ashley will be an obliging mentor. If not, she’ll be wiser to her ways the next time. He tries not to imagine himself pressed against her instead, sharing the warmth. Sabrael gives a nearly imperceptible nod to the both of them before stepping back behind the curtain of jungle sound.
Sabrael