Leander's mind raced, the dove's soft visage running through it. He was enticed, yet his subconscious still shivered at the sight of her horn. Faelene answered his concerned question, and his heart fell. The ebon mare's reply was hard, almost icy. He longed to ask her if she had been hurt, and more importantly, who had hurt her. Fury weaved through his thoughts, wondering how anyone could have done something to hurt her. The gold stag's worried gaze glanced around her body for any signs of violence. "If anyone ever tries to hurt you, call for me. I reside in the Dragon's Throat." His usually warm tone was rigid, and he struggled against his primal desire to seek out whoever hurt this girl and make them pay. Inwardly, he swore to ask her about the matter some other time. The anger in his chest slowly began to fade as he reveled in her closeness.

The tawny stallion continued to hold his side gently against hers. The ruby locked fae spoke up again, the uncertainty in her words sending currents of disappointment through him. "I am certain. I don't say things like that lightly." Deep chords echoed into the wintry cave, with a certainty that Faelene's lacked. It was understandable for her to be unsure of him. They were of kinds that did not usually mesh without conflict. Sadness pooled in his caramel eyes as he was reminded once again of how different they were. His heart had been wistfully running rampant with the idea that their differences did not matter at all. They should not matter. But still, sickeningly, they did.

Cold words from the girl sent another stab of anguish. And just like that, she was backing away from him, as though he were some beast. Leander stood his ground, but did not pursue her. If she did not want to be near him, then that was her choice. Brilliant orbs locked with her midnights once again, hoping she could feel the sorrow within them. "The heart doesn't know wings or horns. But if you want me to leave you, Faelene, I will go." The prince's voice was surprisingly calm in the midst of his inner turmoil. Sooty limbs begged to turn away, to throw him into the clouds once again, away from this heart ache. But the flaxen brute only waited for the dame's reply. He would not turn his back on her unless she asked him to. Something in him needed to know that she wanted him gone, in order for him to pull himself away from here.