you and I both know that the house is haunted
and you and I both know that the ghost is me
With each passing moment, his fear for her becomes more and more justified, but he does not reveal it or even hint toward it in his interactions. Instead he just sidles closer to her, letting her lean on the warmth of his coat as he gently noses at her neck. Her words cause his stomach to clench, for fury to course through his veins, but he only frowns slightly, the corner of his lacerated lips pulling downward. “Why wouldn’t he like it?” he prompts gently, hoping that she would reveal more—that she would give him more clues.
If only Magnus knew the truth about the man behind her terror; if only he knew about his lineage. Gryffen’s mother had been a dear friend to him, and his father. She had even considered asking Magnus to raise her red-eyed son at one point. Perhaps then Gryffen would not be the monster that he was today. Oh, but instead, Gryffen was more like his father—a stallion with whom Magnus had a bitter rivalry. There was no love lost between Magnus and No Crosses Count. Only hatred and righteous anger.
It would seem that history was set to repeat itself.
When she finally speaks his name, it tastes dirty, and although he has no information to tie toward it, there is an instant reaction in the buckskin stallion. He had felt this way before, and if this Gryffen was bringing harm to the mare, he knew what he was capable of—what he would do in his rage. It took everything within him to ignore it. “I don’t mind hard travel,” is all he says with a friendly glint in his gold-flecked eyes, gently touching her neck once more. “I would be happy to make the journey to you.”
There is a husky laugh, and he looks up, frowning at the shifting of the birds in the trees. “There are worse things than a long journey to ease the burden of loneliness for a pretty mare.” He looks back at her, drawing a curtain over the flinty look in his eye so that all she would see is a good natured wink.
MAGNUS
once general. once lord. once king.