Arthas' words have lingered in my mind since his departure. He'd meant them as a promise, I know, but there was a heavy weight to them as well. With his promise, I can see all too clearly how my life will play out. I will return to Loess, to stand at his side, ready to avert my gaze whenever asked. It is the life my mother had lived; I have heard the story many times. Such is the life of royal women, serving at the wishes of their mates and masters.
That is what I'm in Sylva for, after all. I was young when Arthas sent me here, but I am not naive. I was a gift, a present, a concubine. He will come back for me in the fall, he says; he will come back just in time to ensure that Modicum Mortem does not sire a child on me. What happens in the meantime is of no concern, it seems, just as the women he chooses to dally with in my absence are supposed to be to no concern of me.
I lash out at a snowbank at the thought, kicking out with my heels. The motion makes me feel only minutely better, so I add a cow-kick at an elm for good measure. It is late in the evening and I have spent the day running, so there is little force behind my blows. Still, it is better than thinking.
As I tuck my legs back beneath me, I hear a sound behind me. I spin quickly, my blue wings flaring out in an instinctive effort to look larger than I am. My blue-grey eyes peer through the haze of evening darkness, and I recognize the tobiano stallion from our brief meeting with Jesper.
"Oh," I say, a little embarrassed at how easily I had startled. "Hey. Kwartz, right?"
That is what I'm in Sylva for, after all. I was young when Arthas sent me here, but I am not naive. I was a gift, a present, a concubine. He will come back for me in the fall, he says; he will come back just in time to ensure that Modicum Mortem does not sire a child on me. What happens in the meantime is of no concern, it seems, just as the women he chooses to dally with in my absence are supposed to be to no concern of me.
I lash out at a snowbank at the thought, kicking out with my heels. The motion makes me feel only minutely better, so I add a cow-kick at an elm for good measure. It is late in the evening and I have spent the day running, so there is little force behind my blows. Still, it is better than thinking.
As I tuck my legs back beneath me, I hear a sound behind me. I spin quickly, my blue wings flaring out in an instinctive effort to look larger than I am. My blue-grey eyes peer through the haze of evening darkness, and I recognize the tobiano stallion from our brief meeting with Jesper.
"Oh," I say, a little embarrassed at how easily I had startled. "Hey. Kwartz, right?"
