Had she known Magnus’ impression of her, Nayl would have held herself a little straighter, a little prouder. She wants only to embody past Queens, ones that had been strong and formidable. That’s the role she adopted, the one she strived for the second she stood on the battlegrounds to await Naga. Ideally, she wanted to be like the grandmother she never met. The Amazons deserve that, they deserve a powerful Queen to lead them to greatness. Her enemies will fall to their knees one day; she has none as of yet, but certainly they will crawl from the shadows and try to leech off her successes and her victories. It’s only a matter of time.
But Magnus, she doesn’t perceive to be a future enemy. He knew of the old Jungle, of its Queens and warriors. The women carved out a piece of his heart. He is a part of them as much as they are a part of him.
Perhaps, that is why she is so willing to set aside her cruelties and her frigidity. He is different from most stallions. They could have a mutual respect, a friendship, but she doesn’t yet hold her breath; nonetheless, her stony face softens just enough to crack with a feeble grin even as he edges closer to her.
”It’s different from the Jungle,” she almost seems to voice his thoughts aloud as her eyes rake across the cliffs and the coastline. ”It took me a long time to adjust to it. I loved the Jungle,” but what sister didn’t? The Jungle had wrapped its magic around each of them; it was in their blood, in their souls. ”But this has become home.” The adoration was slow to reach her, but it finally embraced her heart. It’s reflected in a hidden gleam of her eyes as they flash back and forth between Magnus and the landscape.
”Let us go,” she whispers as she guides him further into the bosom of Nerine where the rocky ledges tower high overhead and the tide roars underneath. They climb rocky trails and ascend to the tallest point where she almost stands sentinel. The wind tousles her locks as the setting sun outlines her slender body. ”I’m not sentimental,” she admits sheepishly while glancing over her shoulder to meet his gaze, ”but I often find myself here, watching everything.” Her weight shifts back and forth, forcing herself to stay comfortably in this conversation even as her thoughts trace back to her uneasiness around males. ”I hid in the Jungle. I was no one of importance. I was the grandchild of a forgotten Queen,” Echion was lost to many, but not all, ”and yet here I revel in being seen, heard, and felt.”
Beqanna changed her.
Nerine changed her.
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