red sun rises like an early warning; any

[Cordis]

Does it hurt you, the girl asks, who is plain and bay and Cordis knows nothing of what rage inside her. She could know, if she wanted, if she thought to use her magic in such a way, but it doesn’t even occur to her. Even if it did, she would not, because she knows too well the invasive thorn of magic in the mind, probing, no secret left uncovered. (Not that it had mattered, with Him – she had been a child, what secrets had she had? Her hatred of Him was certainly no secret, she wore that with every look and word, and she died for it, a hundred times over. But the feeling had been terrible nonetheless, violating.) Does it hurt you, the girl asks, and at first Cordis thinks it’s her mind that’s being read, that the persistent agony of Spyndle’s death is written upon her in blood or bile. That hurts – it screams and aches inside her, and, given the choice, she would take any kind of physical agony over this kind of grief, this heartbreak. Yes, she wants to say. It hurts every day. But that is not the question. The mare gestures to the lightning, which Cordis has all but forgotten about. It’s a second nature, now, and the snap and crackle of it is as unnoticed as the sound of birds chirping. Does it hurt you, the girl asks, to which Cordis replies, after a beat, “no, it protects me.” There’s no time for further response, as they are happened upon by another mare, this one a paler gold and for a moment tears fight in her eyes before she bests them, keeping her idle gaze. Spyndle had been gold, too. “Don’t worry,” she tells the newcomer, and though she knows she should force a smile, her face stays impassive. She’ll be thought rude, no doubt, and perhaps rightly so. She’s never been known for her sociability, yet she wants neither one to leave, because her thoughts are stones that weigh her, that might lead her into the river and drown her there. “My name is Cordis,” she offers to them both, as if her name could make up for her stilted words and impassive face. c o r d i s I’ll touch you all and make damn sure that no one touches me