mavka [d.m]

05.

mavka
———

Night falls fast at the edges of Elysia.

Mavka has been out this far from the city before — for her own pursuits as an Evrima — but all she can think about is how Adelphia might have tread on the very same earth beneath Xanthos' hooves. Might have marveled at the enormous trees, reaching so high that Mavka thinks they must extend up to the heavens themselves. Might have trailed fingertips over the ancient trunks and thought of how her daughter would've loved this forest.

The Forest of Elysia borders the side of the capital city that doesn't give way to sea or hills. The air here feels lighter like it's imbued with more oxygen than in the city and the soft sounds of the horses and the birds chirping high above had been something Mavka was thankful for.

The others had fallen behind her as they'd passed out of Elysia itself and into the forest, seemingly deeming her trustworthy enough not to bolt. Not that she cares what they thought of her. Apart from maybe Hayat — the Fae with the gentle face and warm smile — she doesn't think she could stand any of them.

Least of all, Draco Malfoy, Shadow King and Fae.

He's so ridiculously smug, that much is obvious. He's pompous and arrogant — and enjoys making her feel small and helpless. He knew she didn't know the relevance of Xanthos' name — and had said it on purpose. To make her look stupid in front of the others.

Her hands grip the reins a bit too tight and Xanthos snorts, rearing her head back briefly at the pressure. She releases, murmuring an apology and patting the horse.

"She's not going to like you very much if you keep doing that." Vega pulls up next to her, her red roan easily catching up to Xanthos. "Although I will admit I've never seen that horse warm up to someone so quickly."

Mavka glances up through the treetops, catching the hint of moonlight seeping in through the canopy. "I know what you're doing."

Vega pauses, looking over her shoulder briefly at Nero and Draco who are still a safe distance behind. "What am I trying to do then?"

"Be friends." Moonlight bathes her skin as they move into a clearing, the horses whinnying softly. This is the time of night when Mavka feels best — with the moon bright and out. "And I can tell you it's futile."

Vega seems to consider her words. "Because you don't want to be."

"Friends?" Mavka gives a dry laugh, leaves crunching underneath Xanthos' hooves. "Don't think for a second that I believe your attempts at friendship, Vega Van Steele. I'm a pawn in your game and you know it."

"Pawn is a strong word," comes the placid reply, "and to be fair, it's not my game. I opposed this entire thing."

That gets Mavka's attention and she sends a sideways glance over at Vega. She sits straight and perfectly poised on her horse, Aether, and it's obvious she's grown up riding — so much so that Aether looks like an extension of her own body. Her short brown hair — much lighter than Mavka's, bordering on auburn — brushes her shoulders with each step her horse takes. It's hard to believe this is the General who vanquished entire armies — this slight, thin-boned female.

But Mavka is no fool. She's fully aware of how powerful the Fae are — and she has no doubt Vega can snap her neck in half a second if she tried.