Everywhere the gold figure looks, he sees beauty. But all he can feel in his heart is sacrifice. His mind goes to Lace and he recalls the agony on the poor grullo's face, the morbid tear that went streaking down his cheek like a falling star wasting its life in one last glorious show. They had lost a great number of their family, and even more were still haunted by the shades that had overtaken them. Kaj could not despise the twisted creatures, no matter how he tried. Not when Lace was counted within their ranks. Not when Lace could have wrecked the Edge with his disease, could have driven them to fight him no matter how badly they wouldn't have wanted to. Instead he had turned and fled, to keep them safe. Kaj felt hollow, to have watched him go, to have done nothing. Was the good of the majority more important than the kinship of one?

Quilyan didn't seem to take kindly to such thoughts, however. He was swiftly interrupted by the tenor of the other stallion, and Kaj turned pale blues upon him, weathered by all that had happened since their escape from the Edge. There is no restrictions placed upon his painted brother. Kaj desires his honesty, his opinion. If there is one soul he could trust in for council, it would be the Specter before him. So instead he sighs, the width of his chest ashudder with the weight of his decisions. Listens as Quilyan talks, and tries to believe in him. It is the only way to be free of the guilt that weighs down on him heavier than the entirety of the broken wall. "I suppose you are right, Quilyan. I only wish it could have been different." But that is all that can be said on the matter, for neither of them can change it, and Kaj must either move on with Quilyan's support or let the what if's kill him. His choice is obvious.

His embarrassment is enough to distract him, feeling like a gangly legged colt with such a ridiculous question upon his lips. But Kaj has never loved. Has never tasted the sweetness of adoration and affection. The only love he'd ever known was that of his love towards his dearest sister, and the fates had been so cruel as to rip her from his side before either of them were ready to say goodbye. Who was to say love was not always like that? Agony, loss? Surely there had to be something pleasant to keep all those lovers entranced by one another, though. Kaj merely didn't know what it could possibly be, or if he'd been bitten by that awful bug.

Quilyan, thankfully, did not take the opportunity to mock the King for his deplorable love life. Instead, he kindly explained, though not in the way Kaj had expected. What did it feel like? Was Kaj...in love? How could he tell? So he asked. "What does it feel like, broer? How do I know?" But then the truly vital question appeared; who was it? He dithers about uncertainly for a few moments, habitually clearing his throat, clearly overwhelmed. What if he is reading this wrong? What if he does not feel that way, truly, towards her? "She is too good for someone like I, friend. It should lie dead. But to quench your curiosity, she is the same ray of light that leads you, that takes the mantle at my side." He cannot in good faith say her name, fearing if he does that he will be swearing himself to the emotions fluttering about inside, unnamed and unwanted. If he does not utter her title, perhaps he will not be chained to her, doomed to chase after her wandering heart with a ball-and-chain round his heart, to be yanked through the dirt in his inability to tell her. To take away her innocence, to make her reach into her small stores of cruelty to deny him, for that is all he deserves from her. His eyes are downcast, wings low. He is no leader now, merely a heartbroken individual in the presence of a trusted friend.