rhonen
molten eyes and a smile made for war
Rhonen was a normal boy – the next in a long line of legacy for the Falls. Perhaps he might have been the first King of his line, rather than their many Queens. Maybe it had been his mother’s dream to leave Rhonen to the Falls and Aubri to their father’s Kingdom, two coppery-bright royal children to usher in the next age of royalty in the Falls and the Deserts. But the world had begun to change around them, and Mikhael and Natilyn took their family out of Beqanna – Rhonen should have gone, but he had answered magic’s call and it had changed him forever.
She is magic by nature, and in this dark place he can sense it. Perhaps it is true he will remember only what she wants him to remember, but for now everything is fever-bright in the gloom. Well, everything except the mare’s eyes, which seem unfitting for the rest of her. “Reagan,” he repeats, tasting the word on his tongue and in the back of his throat. It reminds him of grandmother’s – and so he wonders. Some would believe that names have no power, but Reagan’s name has the same old-time power flavor of Yael’s. Something he would never tell anyone else, but he believes it in his gut.
Even if she is magic, he cannot bring himself to be afraid.
“Maybe because this part of the world is good for people who are running.” That’s not right, though, not any more than yelling at Reagan had been right. “I’m not running. But I’m certainly tired of looking and not finding.” Looking for his family. Looking for a home that is like the Falls. Looking for a friend. Looking for an escape from the nightmares. Oh. “I could be running from the nightmares,” he says thoughtfully, tilting his head. “I can’t dream if I don’t sleep.”
