The feeling washed out moments later, replaced by a chilling emptiness. Daryn was at the mercy of the monarch, no matter their impeccable bloodline and courtly graces. Pushing buttons would get them nowhere but a shallow grave with, no doubt, one of the many disturbed by their father. A revenge brought upon them by a man who they didn’t even really know, dragging them down into the hells with him. Victory tasted like sour grapes, and they wilted like a daisy. It’s not fun if he doesn’t step in kind. they justified it to themselves.
Daryn took a metaphorical step back from that line in the stand, hands raised, indifference on their face as they swung their head to scope their surroundings.
As you say. Thank you for the concern, darling.A reminder that even as Daryn stepped back, they were not defanged. They adjusted their steps, calming them to a ground eating trot rather than the showy prance. Remember what could happen to you, something in them hissed, that chill of reminder never leaving them, never even allowing them to assume it was just the winter cold.
South, then. Perhaps we will find somewhere quickly.The quicker they found somewhere, the quicker everyone assembled beside them, the quicker they were going to be wed, Daryn knew. But, well, there was little to be said about that. They’d already fought and screamed and cried to the indomitable face of their mother, and it had gotten them nowhere beyond a side glance and a we will not speak of this in public, Daryn. The dark furred head of the Zaal turned to face the south, breath huffing from their nostrils in a stream of white.
