She doesn’t mind begging, what pride she once have fled with her magic, because like this – powerless, alone – there is no room for pride. She is willing to do whatever the mare bades, because it doesn’t matter to her, she is a creature of loss and grief with so little else, all she wants is her lightning, her power.
The girl names her terms – you have to give him to me - and Cordis nods. She doesn’t care who is it, she will fling his body at this girl’s feet, if need be; or leave him chained for her consumption.
(It should be unnerving, to realize she would kill so thoughtlessly, all for magic, for a cage of lighting, but she finds this doesn’t bother her the way she once thought it would.)
“Yes,” she says, in case her nod was not enough, “however you want him, I will give him to you.”
And then the girl’s head dips, and something flashes, brief as a lightning strike, and then Cordis is knocked backward as her magic returns.
She cries out, feeling alive for the first time in days, weeks.
Her skin prickles as the lightning returns, like chainmail on her silver skin, she is protected again, she is a weapon again and she breathes.
“Tell me when,” she says, voice rough, “and he’s yours.”
However you want him.
I’ll touch you all and make damn sure
Cordis
that no one touches me