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“Come Qian…!” The voice that floats towards Nasreen on the breeze is light, cheery, and unmistakably Kahlua’s. She cringes. While normally a summons from her dearest friend would be enough to send the princess into a fit of ecstasy, ever since she returned to the island, she’s been avoiding the black and white mare. She doesn’t know how to face her—after all, how does she tell her best friend (who just also happens to be the queen) that she has no idea how to serve on a royal council, much less contact a goddess?
Unfortunately, her time’s up—no more hiding from her problems today, it seems. Reluctantly, Nasreen turns towards the center of the island and slowly begins to head in the direction of Kahlua’s voice, heeding the call. She assumes that the herd will gather in the tent, so that is where she sets her course. The island is small, so she must only pass through a few meadows and copses of cherry trees before the familiar sandy clearing surrounded by brightly colored tents comes into view. From this angle, she is approaching the Edge tent from behind, and she hesitates, watching the billowing black folds undulate gently in the breeze. She does not want to be here, but in the end, obedience wins out. The princess begins to make her way around the tent and towards the entrance, intending to slip in and out unnoticed. She will stand in the shadows, and she does not mean to speak unless spoken to—and heaven forbid that Kahlua asks her anything about the moon goddess, for she will have nothing to report.
Steeling herself, Nasreen rounds the side of the tent…and runs straight into the mare whose attention she desires least. “Kahlua!” she gasps, jumping back. The guilt must be written plainly on her face, for even she can feel it burning in shame. “I…I thought you’d be inside.” She looks back and forth, as if searching for a place to hide, or at least disappear into, but to her dismay, there isn’t even a crowd gathered. A solitary mare stands behind her, one whom Nasreen has never seen outside of herd meetings. Dipping her head to Cheveyo (and hurriedly ducking it to Kahlua), she moves to stand slightly behind the war-painted equine, shifting her weight uncomfortably as she awaits the start of the meeting. So much for remaining inconspicuous.
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