Alysanne

Sooner than he should have, Tembovu was getting back on his feet (earning a grim smile from Alysanne out of a complete lack in surprise as he winced as he put too much pressure on the healing joint) and that meant he was closer to her again. “Flex it please.” She asked quietly as she flipped the switch to call the mists back. The knee was looking much better and she watched him carefully to see if he could put weight on it and move it with ease. There might be a little stiffness from letting it fester for so long but it was healed and his body could take care of what little there was left.  

His deep voice was without the feverish edge to it now, drawing her attention with more ease than their heated words had. No, Tembovu could not lead her as they were now but the wound between them was not so great that it would not heal in time. “The Edge has my loyalty. You never need to doubt that.” Is all that she can think to say in response, her voice and eyes calm now. There may very well be a day when she can trust Tembovu, when he personally has her loyalty, but for now it was the herd that held her loyalty - not the king before her or the ghost of a queen she barely knew. She had seen enough kings come and go to believe it foolish to devote her loyalty to any of them. She felt comfortable in the idea that she would eventually see Tembovu go as well - their present civility not entirely erasing the thought that someone so volatile had no place on any throne. In three years in Helovia enough had happened for her to understand that things were never left peaceful for long. But the Edge, this herd remained and she had long ago tied herself to it. Perhaps one day they would finally have a monarch that did the same.

His next words caused a frown to darken her eyes as she gazed back at him - particularly at the word ‘submit’ (though she is thankful for his own apparent distaste at the word) - but it was quick to pass. “That is fair request, Tembovu. And I will do so as long as your orders don’t conflict with my conscience. The first time I saw war was with the orders of Kings that ruled here in the Edge before you - and I will not stay quiet if my herd, my family, is forced into a similar situation.” She had been brainwashed into believing that it had been for the benefit of the herd last time and it still made her skin crawl to think of how foolish she had been. “If I do not follow your order, it will be for a reason, and I promise to explain if you will listen.” Alysanne had once been the kind to follow orders without question, without considering their effects, and she was still dealing with the aftermath of what the Invasion had done to her mind. She hoped Tembovu would understand with that explanation that it wasn’t entirely personal, her desire to keep her own mind about orders was one she held with anyone. And, with luck, she would be better at explaining her mind than she had been today if such a day when she refused him came.

Though she still did not think he had any right to give ultimatums, especially concerning her own body. That very much felt like submitting. King or not, whether she cut off a wing or left a simple sprain to heal naturally it was no one’s business but her own. Well, and Iona’s - her sister would see to that.

This time, it is a request that she heal herself and her head turned to follow his gaze to the sprained wing. It felt like defeat, agreeing to this, but it also was the easiest way for this time together to end. So she called on the magic again - taking a quick step backward as a wave of fatigue hit her. Healing the mess that had been Tembovu’s knee had been no simple task and she felt the drain on her energy.

Unfortunately, although she intended to do no more than pretend she was healing herself for his sake - the mists surrounded the limb and eased the strain before she cut them off. There was still some pain, but she flexed it without wincing and folded it back up - holding it where it should sit properly - showing off what looked like a perfectly healed wing. She was glad that the wing she had pulled had been on that side so she would not reveal the mess of scar tissue that was her joint on the other side - a carefully guarded secret by the wings she never used. The wounds there had long since healed but even magic had been unable to remove every sign. Let there be some part of her that she did not put on display for the feral king now that he had seen the crazed passion and anger in her heart.

“Is that all, my King?” She was eager to be away from him now, green eyes finally turning back to meet his gaze with her best attempt at impassivity.