Illynx eyes the other woman of power with no hesitancy or fear, only judgment; she shakes and shivers as if there are ghosts coming at her from all angles when it is only a woman and her babe who approach. She supposes there is good reason River Walker is so nervous around her, but she also thinks that after a certain number of nonviolent interactions the paint would get it through her ordinary little head that Illynx had better things to do than pick on daisies wearing crowns.

She is thanked for her presence, to which the golden one tilts her head in kind regard of the comment and gives no words. Either way it seems that the Queen is distracted at the moment by the child alongside her, and while Illynx is not sure what her expression means, it is not the usual doting face of girls who love kids.

What sort of flower baring ninny was this woman?

Either way, and quite ironically, she lowers her head and seems to will the mechanical scorpion the boy’s father had made seasons ago towards the colt, who eyes it most suspiciously for a splitting second before he sees my subtle smile and nod of approval that he may play with it. His eyes instantly grow broad and enthusiastic as he lowers his skinny face down to examine it, truly his father’s child with all his vibrant wonder towards the world around him and that which he did not yet understand.

Kahlua’s plan has worked; the boy no longer stares at her but is endlessly engrossed in the metallic insect which whirs and scampers. Perhaps Illynx should warn her that young boys are clumsy and wreckless… but surely she already knows such things.

It left, however, the ruler of the Edge beneath the stare of the child’s mother, which was probably far less pleasant than the innocent lack of understanding that had flooded the face of the boy. To the Lady it feels like she stands there forever with her brows lifted and gaze unbroken, as if silently urging the Queen on with an unspoken ”aaaaaand you’re here because?”

But finally she speaks.

At first its interesting enough, though passively the bitch wonders to herself why in Time’s Beard any one of his brethren had decided to help this nincompoop of all the worthy denizens of Helovia, but it was beside the point and unchangeable and so she quickly moved on from that thought. What she said next made the half amused and half mocking grin on her face slip completely.

What sort of magic required such a task?

None that was any good for her, or her people, she didn’t figure.

At least the question was asked tactfully, none of that ugly word racist floating around, but she gets what is being asked of her well enough and, while she could easily go fetch another of her company to “talk” with Kahlua, she didn’t figure any of them could resist such a temptation as the Edge’s tender, crown wearing lily deposited at their hooves.

Fuck me, she thinks, barely managing to keep her eyes from rolling as she sighs and glances back at her son, who is now several feet away still enraptured by the mechanics of the scorpion and not paying a single mind to what she or the strange woman is saying. It doesn’t really matter if he hears, she supposes, for she has already taken him with her to the first secret meeting of her guild, but she also understands the importance of his anonymity if he is going to be the most useful to her.

Few would be willing to trust the son of such a devious wench as she, but if he did manage to earn trust elsewhere, well... things could be learned when one thought you weren’t dangerous.

And what was that old saying, again? Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer?

It seemed far easier to just put them in the ground.

”What are you wanting to know? she asks, letting her features return to the painted Queen, hoping that enough will be unleashed from Kahlua’s questions that she can gather precisely what it is that the “Gods” (she was still dubious on this matter) had granted her the ability to earn, just how threatening it was to her or her budding family.