It was not, Wyldon thought, entirely right that his first thoughts at the sight of Keladry's retreating back were of the Lioness. Not right at all, when Kel's kiss still lingered on his mouth and in the beat of blood in his temples, throat, even in the faint tingling of his hands. He clenched them to keep the memory. Madness, all of it, and to see that woman as she had been years ago, livid and shaking before him as the King spoke of probation was—along with so much on this camp, this very year—almost too much.
"You don't know," Alanna had said, lead around her fury, "What you are keeping from me."
If Wyldon of Cavall had the misfortune to speak to the Lioness now, at least he would be able to say that he knew full well what he now must keep from himself.
Note: Written for the first round of Goldenlakes SMACKDOWN: A fanfiction fight for Kels non-canonical hand. Competitor: Wyldon of Cavall. Characters are in no way mine. The competition is the brainchild of Goldenlake message boards. They, likewise, neither own nor profit from these characters and/or their geographies.