Even in the impossibly-beautiful Beqanna, Nerine still stands out. But it is not the soaring cliffs or pounding sea the makes them memorable, Djinni thinks as she looks at Lior. It’s that almost everyone that lives here is utterly perfect.
As she comes closer, she has time to look him over from beneath the hank of her stiff forelock. Tall, dark, and handsome – the Queensgaurd has a definite type. His eyes are grey, grey likes eyes above the reflection of a full moon, grey like she has to avert her own to the inland. Their shadows are there on the pale marble, hers with an exaggerated belly, his with the bulk of great leathery wings.
Lior mentions it too, congratulating her on her own obvious condition. “Yes,” She says with a chortle, the sound half-way between sarcasm and genuine amusement. “Thank you. I hope so, anyway.”
“I’m not sure,” She says. “I thought I’d check with Nayl, see what she thought was best.” Djinni has no idea how to be a mother. She is utterly terrified and goes each day trying her very best to hide it. Her skill at lying is nearly without peer. That is the fortunate result of an inherently charming personality and schooling since birth in the proper way to conduct oneself in every situation. The supernatural enhancement is merely the cherry on top.
She shows none of those emotion in her expression or tone; there is no hint of them anywhere. The grullo mare appears entirely truthful, appears to be the perfect subject who will go so far as to put her queen before her kin. With Nayl she is different (argumentative and playful), but there’s no need for her to be anything but cooly polite to Lior. But she wants to, because it is fun, and she asks him:
“Was that you volunteering to be a babysitter?” she teases, “Stillwater and I will appreciate it.”
His name no longer stings her tongue, it slips out as easily as those it is couched between. Yesterday she had chosen to accept it. There will be no more secrets. No hiding.
Except the hiding Djinni does, of course, avoiding contact between herself and the black stallion at all costs, careful to wear the loveliest of wings when they do have to interact. Feathered or scaled they are always huge, and the wind just always happens to be in her favor. Everyone but Stillwater will know he’s going to be a father – everyone but the black stallion himself.
slim build
smoky grullo tobiano
sea green eyes
visibly pregnant