Diplomacy has never been something she is interested in, but she’s always been good at it. Mastery of the political was one of the tools considered indispensible by the monarchies of old; a silver tongue, a warrior’s skill, geographic knowledge, and a complete historical understanding of Beqanna since its inception – that was what she knew. Or had known, really, since Djinni has not brushed up on history in decades and the Beqanna she stands on is far different than the ones of her youth.
She has never really understood the importance of those skills before (most likely because she has never understood the appeal of a kingdom life) but as she stands beside the spotted stallion, she beings to understand.
Or at least, she thinks she does.
“A union,” she replies.
“Not an alliance – something more.” The phrasing is more difficult than she’d anticipated, but there is no need to amplify the candor in her eyes. She is honest and forthright, and has to trust that he will take her at her word. “Our woods are already connected,” says the grullo mare as she gestures overhead at the blended canopy. “I propose a single kingdom, with both Sylva and the Taiga continuing just as they have until now. But we will count our people as one in times of need, and consider each other equals.”
Djinni is fairly certain that such a thing hasn’t been proposed before, not here in the New Beqanna or before the Reckoning in the Old. Alliances are standard, subkingdoms not unheard of – but merging two lands into one? They will be geographically larger than the rest, expanding the territory of his pack to roam (if they so choose) without also hindering the freedom of her own people. It seems ideal – at least to Djinni – but she knows that the decision is equally Ruan’s, and so she waits.