The burning in his eyes does not subside, despite the attempted mitigating remarks of Rexanna. And, as she so proudly declared herself a ‘Thief,’ the elephantine trumpet echoes once again in his skull. She was a Thief, stealer of affections and trusts. He had become a used man, a tool for her own ascendancy in Basin ranks— or so he perceived. Though some corner of his mind notes that she did not deny the jealousy Raeden accused her of; but any hope that might have blossomed from this fact was incinerated by the Elephant’s rage.

His ears flick towards Raeden as she again mentions her sister, but this time to the Thief. He watches for a reaction, but gets only excuses about her child. A film of red crosses his vision and he can feel his chest grow hot as his magic threatened to push the fiery beast out of his chest. “I thought we had agreed to try and live separate lives…I tried to tell you.” Ears pin flush with his skull, pressure pushing against his eardrums as he wrestles with his rage. “You tried? Rexanna, the life a foal, mine or not, is worth more than a try,” anger laced thick through his deep growl, “You push me away for foals that are not even mine, only to turn and become pregnant by another?” This monster threatened, and begins to overwhelm him; even his great strength begins to give way before the fiery elephant. Such a creature would do unknown damage with the two mares present—

But it was Raeden’s words, of all things, that send a cold tendril snaking down down his spine. Her concern, genuine or not, for Rexanna’s safety in traveling while pregnant fave rise to his own. Perhaps not the type of concern for a woman he loved, for his anger and her betrayal had destroyed that. But it was a concern rooted deep within him, birthed the moment he buried the burned bodies of his lover and son. It was so integral to his makeup that it sliced through the massive fries burning behind his gaze. So he seizes this cold concern like a lifeline, willing it to spread icy tendrils over his rage.

And Rexanna speaks again, of Caleb— jaw muscles tick as muscles quiver, begging to unleash some amount of this barely controlled fury— but at least he is no longer a worry. Or so she says— doubt courses strong and (thankfully) cold through his veins, further chilling his anger. His eyes, grown hard with the mild control he has gained over his anger, turn to stare into the light blue eyes. Eyes once found lovely, now found deceptively alluring. “Raeden is right, it is unwise for a pregnant mare to travel the wilds alone,” his voice, usually so expressive, sounded cold and disinterested— even to his own ears, “We could send for the Basin’s Priest?” the look she had given him at the tree flashed through his mind (Ashamin, was it?).

He does not remark on her following them to the Edge— for that is not truly an option for the King. At one point, it would have made him incandescently happy to have the gilded mare follow him home. But now, now that he has seen her gilding peel away and witnessed what lay beneath, he knew that her following would not make him happy. What would come of it? Him standing over her laboring body as she pushing another’s fruit into the world? (Because, of course, he would be there. He wouldn’t be able to stop himself.) Would he stand there, cleaning this foreign foal’s nose so that it might take its first breath? Nosing it to stand and drink from Rexanna’s teat?

No. What once would have been a joyous occasion was now… almost abhorrent to the Elephant. Though he would not deny her entrance, should she wish to reside in the Edge. That would be selfish of him, and a the duties of a King did not allow for selfishness. He turned his hard, unforgiving gaze back to Raeden, “I apologize, Raeden, for you having to witness this. My offer stands, I will gladly take you to the Edge, should you wish you make it your own home,” there was quivering control in his booming voice. Carefully, gently, deliberately, his broad muzzle reaches to touch her withers before he turns his shoulders towards the Edge. His rage is under control for the moment, but he is not certain how long his trembling restraint will last.