His ability to speak her thoughts aloud is but one of the myriad of reasons she adores him. Wolfbane knows what weighs on her without any elaboration, names the obstacle to her happiness as though she’d voice it herself. The single barrier is an insurmountable one – not because they cannot defeat it, but rather because even thinking of doing so somehow feels wrong
. If it were anyone else, the answer would be as simple as breathing. Defeat and demolish, as peaceful or as violent as necessary.
The two of them have never worked together in such a way, but as Lepis traces the soft skin of his shoulder with her blue lips, she knows that they could. They could and he would: for her. For himself as well though, and that thrills her nearly as much as his devotion. She’d pull back to look at him were his face not etched within her mind, and instead she smiles wordlessly into the warmth of his chest for a moment longer. Lepis is not certain why Fate has placed Wolfbane in her life or given him cause to care for her, but she knows better than to probe too hard. He is and that is enough, and so she does her best to be worthy of the good fortune.
“You won’t find argument from me,”
she tells him with a kiss to his neck. “Loess could not hope for a fiercer champion.”
The hilly kingdom is as fortunate as she that Wolfbane had chosen to throw his lot with them. There is little of her first husband that Lepis is grateful for, but Arthas had been wise enough to place her home in Wolfbane’s hands, and that is his greatest redeeming feature for the dun mare.
The night has crept toward them as they embraced, and with it the colder winds. They are sheltered here in their little hollow, and Lepis knows that their time alone is drawing short. The children will be returning to the roost as the last sun fingers of orange light release their hold on the west.
“I’ve thought of leaving.”
She says, and while the admission is uncharacteristic of the loyal pegasus, it is also the logical progression to solving her own unhappiness. “Of making a new home. Not a forever home, just an until one.”
Until what she does not say, but she does not doubt he knows: Until Loess is theirs again.
“My grandmother took Sylva for Castile’s mother,”
Lepis says, a bit of history from the dawn of the Nerinian Empire. It has long since crumbled, but the possibility of something similar appeals to Lepis. Similar, but not quite the same. “Perhaps it’s time for the South to expand.”
The thought brightens her expression, and now she does pull away. She wants to see his reaction, to read him as easily as he can.