Whatever his thoughts, whatever his suspicions, it really is rather moot at this point. She has him just where she wants him, just where she needs him to be. He would have the whole of Nerine to contend with now if he chose to escape, even if her powers decided to fail her. Besides, she is fairly certain the threat of death would keep him well enough contained. He does not strike her as the suicidal sort.
So she allows his weighty gaze to roll off of her, instead quirking one equine brow in questioning disdain. He would only know what she allowed him to know, but she did feel it best he be aware of just whose fault it is that he is here, with her, instead of safely by his mother’s side.
After a heavy pause, she finally responds with a soft, “Your mother, naturally.” The words are said as almost an afterthought, but it is very clear they are not. “I was not lying when I said I had just seen her.”
Glancing past him towards to craggy back wall of the shallow cave, her sharp blue gaze goes unfocused, distant, for the briefest of moments before hardening into chips of blue ice. Shifting, she fixes him with that piercing stare. “Suffice to say, your mother should really learn to hold her tongue.” And she is certainly not above being the one to teach her to do so.
She considers him for a long moment, mulling over prospects, opportunities, things he would likely shudder to think of. Finally, in an almost offhand manner, she murmurs, “All I want from you is your presence.”
A slow, vaguely amused smile curves her lips, barely present but certainly not a good sign for him. “Speaking of, hold still. I would hate to hit something important.”
With no further warning, she strips the tips of his feathered wings, the dust falling away to leave only ragged ends. A decidedly effective means of keeping him grounded, of keeping him from slipping away the moment her back is turned.
She certainly couldn’t have that. She would not have anyone thinking her a poor kidnapper.
