He had grinned and greeted Rexanna—jealousy not easily recognized on the Aurelian siren, despite easily being recognized in the Elephant. Duty had called him a few paces away from his family, discussing the possibilities of what was happening with Moon Goddess and Kisamoa with Alune and what it might mean for the Edge. After all, the Edge’s cliffs were within view of this sparkling new creation pulled out of the waves. Thus, the stallion is (woefully) entirely ignorant of Dominus’s outright snarl and the mare’s mirroring, understated ones.

Once, he feels both sets of eyes—once electric blue and the other honeyed cerulean— on him, and in (sadly) masculine ignorance, he throws a distracted grin towards the deadly battle of wits that rages calmly on the glittering beach. Too focused is he on his current train of thought with his Seer to fully appreciate the appreciative lingering of Nyx’s gaze across his silvered buckskin hide. Nor does he notice the narrowed, venomous look Rexanna gives Nyx in return.

It is only later—oh so much tragically later—that a single, decisive question filtered through the clamor of his thoughts, Alune’s deep voice, the low murmur of others’ conversations, and the distant crash of waves.

“Tell me, who is Alexander?”

Black-rimmed ears snap towards Nyx, followed by his great head and wide, alarmed eyes. It is only now that his happy, blissful, ignorant reality is shattered. Nyx. Rexanna. Nyx speaking with Rexanna. Rexanna speaking with Nyx. A past so convoluted and a future so promising—talking and mixing. There was an old soldier’s cheer often shouted during rowdy nights with the Banderi: ’Mke na wapenzi, naomba kamwe kukutana!’ Never had the Elephant General (at that time) fully understood the emphasis behind the boisterous toast.

Now, he did.

With a hasty nod and excuse to his celestial coated friend, he took quick, rushed strides back to his place alongside Rexanna—though his eyes were searching both of the mares’ faces. In Rexanna’s he found venomous annoyance and mistrust; in the other he found vindictive triumph, softened by the lack of fight in her body language.

Despite the multitude of body language and cues given the King, he was entirely at a loss of what verbally transpired. So, with a darkened, worry-creased gaze that darted between the two mares—one a close and trusted friend and the other his lover— he asked, “Nyx, Rexanna. What is it you two are speaking about?” Though his voice was forever a deep rumble as dictated by Mother Nature, it had certainly risen a few octaves given his current concern.

And then, without waiting too long for an answer (for he didn’t know that he truly wanted to know the answer), he continued on, “Perhaps it is time to take the twins back home?” His tone was hopeful, wishing to separate these two based on their body language, alone.

---

Mke na wapenzi, Naomba kamwe kukutana! = Mates and lovers, may they never meet!