Still hazy from her power nap, Sunset ambled across the bridge into the west castle courtyard. The area theoretically remained open to the general public, but few ponies ever frequented it—mostly students and guard cadets. The east courtyard tended to be the busier spot by and large. Sunset didn’t particularly care why that might be, only that it held true today. The fewer distractions, the better.
Naturally, her hunch had been spot on. She saw only six other ponies in the park: two young students sharing a picnic table plus a family playing by the stream. Not ideal, but acceptable.
She made her way to Firmament’s Font at the far end of the courtyard, briefly admiring the great golden astrolabe. Her saddlebags clicked open and she drew out her battered copy of Skyspark—the only thing she’d packed other than her scribing tools. It had been on her mind recently, and she had a few minutes to kill, assuming Cadance even arrived on time.
Flipping past the cover and acknowledgements, she started on the prologue. Dormant memories glowed alive, complete with the illusory scent of her fillyhood home—candy apples and ozone—as the words stole her away:
-- Prologue --
In all my worldly travels, I have never known a greater beauty than the naked perfection of this scarred yellow sky. Rarely does nature yield but chaos, and nowhere may that be more truly seen than amid the riptide storms of the South Luna Ocean. Yet through that black tumult lies the purest peace I have ever known. So encompassing is the calm that I think it should surely be my final mortal sight. Balderdash, that. If there is nothing else that my father embedded in me, stubborn griff though he was, it is the time-weary truth that nothing is sure until you make it so. Should these furious winds cast me to the salted crags and deliver me beyond, it shall not be by my own abstention. I refuse. I pray only that my companions are of equal mind. Of Grimsby I have no doubt. While he is naught but bumbling oblivion, I would trust him with all my family’s fortune. He has been my second since we both were cubs. None other of Griffonstone would have endured so long short of a crown promise, and this would yet be their turncoat moment. He reeks of terror, but Grimsby is no coward. I am less confident in Asphodel. Ponies are peddlers of pyrite fates, and she could pass for merchant queen. For all that she may excel in value and virtue and skill, she lives off poisoned wheat. Regrettable, so it is, that she has become so integral. The Idol of Notus remains in reach by her hooves alone. It matters not. The time for second guesses has long since passed. The whorling waters hunger, and soon the leviathans will—
“What are you reading?”
Sunset went to speak, but her tongue tripped over her ears. She’d had a reply primed for when Cadance inevitably interrupted her, but that wasn’t Cadance’s voice. She looked up into a face she didn’t recognize: some random filly, her head cocked like a curious puppy.
Sunset scowled. “Didn’t your parents ever teach you not to talk to strangers?”
The filly shook her head exactly once, as though dictated by a metronome. Her gaze stuck to the book as she trotted closer. “Can I read too?”
“No.” Sunset pivoted to the right, dragging the book with her.
“Why not?”
“Because it’s mine.” She tried to find her place on the page again. “You wouldn’t understand half the words anyway.”
“Yes I would!” The filly leered over Sunset’s shoulder like a classmate trying to copy her answers. “My teacher says I can read books meant for fillies twice my age, and I was the only one in class who spelled ‘con-shee-en-chiss’ right on our test last week.”
“Good for you.” Sunset summoned an opaque teal disc in front of the foal’s face, moving it in tandem with her head as she squirmed to peer around. “Now go away.”
“I just want a peek!” She poked her horn nub against the disc like it might pop. “Sharing is important. Shiny said so.”
“Who’s—?”
“Twilight!”
Sunset glanced over her shoulder just as a broad-barreled colt came charging their way. She… knew him? His image lay buried somewhere in her memory, but she couldn’t place it. Something about his eyes, or his mane, or his cutie—
Shining Armor. The name struck her like a cragadile from ambush, mangling her stomach into a knotted mess. She ripped her eyes away and flipped her mane strategically to hide her face.
The heavy hooffalls slowed as Shining Armor drew close. “I turn my back for two seconds to grab the ball, and suddenly you’re over here harassing somepony?”
“I’m not harassing!” the filly—Twilight, apparently—said. “She has a book!”
“I don’t care if she has a whole library. You can’t go around disturbing ponies just because they’ve got something you like.” A low, arcane hum filled the silence. “Now what do you say?”
Twilight heaved a sigh. “Sorry, Miss.”
“Whatever,” Sunset mumbled. “Just leave me alone.”
Nopony said anything for an agony of a moment. Sunset held strong and listened for them to leave. Eventually she heard a dull thump followed by the staccato rhythm of tiny hooves galloping away, but Shining Armor’s shadow still loomed at her side.
“Didn’t you hear me?” Sunset said, louder. “I’m busy. Get lost.” She turned a page despite not having finished reading it.
“Sorry. It’s just…” He trotted up next to her. Sunset craned her head away as if magnetically repulsed. “You remind me of an old friend.”
Ha! Right. Some friend you turned out to be. Sunset suppressed the urge to conjure a force field around herself and said, “Don’t really care. I’m not your friend, so take a hint already.”
He lingered for a heartbeat longer. “Right. Sorry for bothering you.” Sunset watched his shadow recede and listened until his hooffalls faded behind the rushing fountain.
The breath she’d been holding tumbled out like ice cubes. She hunched down and tried to get back into the story, but the rattlesnakes in her skull wouldn’t let her concentrate.
Slamming the book shut, she shunted it into her bag and relocated to the far side of Firmament’s Font, blocking her view of all the other ponies. It also placed her in the fountain’s cold, damp shadow, but it was well worth the peace of mind. Once settled, she closed her eyes to let the trickling water and quiet birdsong take her somewhere else. Anywhere else.
Unknowable time later, a gentle poke to her withers pulled Sunset back. She glanced up into Cadance’s candied smile, which would have looked fake on any other pony. “Sorry I’m late,” she said. “Flight practice ran a little long.”
“That’s—” The logic center of Sunset’s brain short-circuited. “Wait, ‘flight practice?’”
“Mm-hmm!” She flapped her wings a few times, barely inching off the ground before stumbling into a landing. “Mister Wind Rider is a great teacher, but my wings are really atrophied, so it’s probably going to be a while before I can do much more than that.”
A vein pulsed in Sunset’s temple with the beat of a war drum. “‘Atrophied?’”
“It’s when your muscles get really weak, usually because you don’t use them enough or—”
“I know what it means!” Sunset shot to her hooves, matching Cadance’s height.
Cadance frowned her stupid, condescending frown. “Is something wrong?”
“Yes something’s wrong! You’re honestly telling me that you’re an alicorn who can’t use magic or fly?” She stomped a hoof in the mud. “What can you do?!”
Against all common sense, Cadance grinned at that. “I give really good moral support! Plus I’m a fantastic listener. Oh, and, not to brag”—she shrugged airily—“but I’ve been told that I give the best hugs.” She offered a hoof and fluttered her eyelashes like a succubus. “Do you want one?”
“No. I do not want a hug.” She smacked Cadance’s hoof down. “I want an explanation. The magic? Whatever, I get that. But you were a pegasus! How in Equestria do you not know how to fly by now?”
Cadance raised her hoof again, but defensively, like she thought Sunset might hit her. In fairness, Sunset couldn’t deny that possibility. “I’ll be happy to explain, but only over some persimmons.” She started around the fountain. “We’re here for a picnic, after all!”
Sunset’s chest tightened. “What’s wrong with right here?”
Cadance stopped, her eyes dancing around the gloomy, mud-strewn patch. “Oh, nothing. It’s just that I’ve already set everything up on this side. It’s a better view, too—we’ll be able to see the sunset.”
Yeah, that’s kind of the problem. A protest had already formed on Sunset’s tongue, but she swallowed it. Cadance would get suspicious if she pushed the point, and the last thing she needed was Miss High-and-Mighty prying into her personal life. Besides, once she got busy with her mission, she would completely forget that he was even there.
“Fine,” Sunset said, plodding after her. “But walk and talk.”
“Fair enough.” Cadance led her to the bright side of Firmament’s Font. An awful pink- and yellow-checkered blanket lay neatly on the grass, and an overwhelming assortment of snacks had been spread overtop, like she’d used a food pyramid as a packing guide.
“It’s actually a pretty simple reason,” Cadance said, “why I can’t fly, that is. I didn’t have anypony around who could teach me, and I never had a reason to learn. My old home was pretty sheltered.”
“What,” Sunset said, sitting with her back to the rest of the park, “were you cloistered away in a hidden fortress on the edge of civilization or something?”
“Okay, not quite that sheltered.” Cadance lowered to her stomach and reached for a bowl of glossy orange fruits. “Woodwind was an earth pony village—I was the only pegasus. The best I could do was read about flying, and books can only take you so far.”
“Tell me about it,” Sunset grumbled. She floated a hollyhock sandwich to her mouth and ate it mindlessly.
“Speaking of books,” Cadance said, dabbing her mouth with a napkin, “I brought you something!” She started searching through the dark wicker basket, which looked large enough to store a royal banquet.
“Whatever it is, I’ve probably read it already.” Having finished the tiny sandwich, Sunset fought the urge to glance over her shoulder and busied herself with the rosemary and peony salad.
“I can guarantee you haven’t. Otherwise you would have noticed when I quoted it earlier.”
Oh, so not insane. Just pointlessly cryptic. Sunset squeezed a lemon wedge over her salad.
Cadance produced a shiny, book-shaped present wrapped in red paper with a garish orange ribbon—it had clearly been hoof-wrapped, and shoddily. She held it toward Sunset with the care of an archaeologist handling a crown jewel.
Sunset levitated the gift over, fixing it with her stinkiest eye. It had considerable heft—at least five hundred pages, she estimated. “Why did you wrap it?”
“I like watching ponies unwrap presents.”
The stink eye switched to Cadance herself. “That’s weird.”
“I don’t have to watch if it makes you uncomfortable.” She covered both eyes with her hooves, still smiling.
Sunset wrinkled her muzzle. “No, that’s weirder.”
Cadance dropped one hoof but kept the other up, like she was nursing a black eye. “How about this?”
Sunset snorted. “Whatever.” She tore off the wrapping paper in one violent motion.
The book had a mottled black binding, and the cover depicted an ominous mountain beneath a glowing emerald sky. Smoke-grey clouds twisted above the landscape, loosely forming the title: The Drag.
She didn’t even manage one word before Cadance jumped back in. “If you’re a fan of Lord of the Reins, this one’s a no-brainer. It leans a bit more into horror since that’s Love Craft’s usual style, but I think you’ll still like it!”
“Uh huh.” Sunset flipped the book over and instinctively started reading the blurb, but she caught herself after the first sentence. She set the book aside and returned to her salad. “I hope you’re not expecting me to give you anything.”
Cadance giggled. “That’s not how gifts work.” She slathered some marmalade on a piece of toast. “Just let me know what you think of it. Only when you get the chance, of course. No rush.”
“You’ll be waiting a while. I have more important things to focus on”—like literally anything else—“and I’m not exactly bursting with free time.”
“I appreciate you spending some of it with me, then. Based on what I know about you, I’m guessing you’d rather be studying for your next big exam right now.”
What do you know? She’s not completely oblivious. Sunset didn’t respond. Now that she’d suffered enough small talk, she decided to move on to the next stage of her game plan. She chewed on her salad, considering how best to breach the topic she actually cared about.
Unfortunately, Cadance seemed intent on dominating the conversation. She swallowed her toast and said, “How was your summoning exam, by the way?”
Sunset huffed. “Easy.”
“That’s good! Studying all night paid off, I take it?”
Like a trained archer, Sunset saw her shot and took it. “Ha! Like I would need to study that much for one little exam. That’s not why I stayed up.”
Cadance started filling two tankards with some amber liquid. “Why, then?”
Knew that would get your interest, nosy. “Funny you should ask. I was actually doing a bit of research on the Everheart.”
The pitcher jostled in Cadance’s hooves as she started filling the second mug. She looked up with shimmering eyes. “The Everheart? Really?”
“Did I stutter?” Sunset said, grabbing hold of the full tankard. “You said Princess Celestia wants you to learn magic so you can handle its power, right? Having some idea of what that power is would help me structure your lessons better. I could tailor them in the right direction to prepare you for the Everheart instead of focusing on schools of magic that won’t help you.” She flexed a grin—she’d spun that particular yarn during study hall.
The smile Cadance gave in return was different from her typical saccharine smirk, but Sunset couldn’t pinpoint how. “Thank you, Sunset. That’s… really thoughtful of you. I’m quite curious about the Everheart too, honestly.” She continued pouring the second drink. “But I’m guessing you didn’t find anything.”
Sunset narrowed her eyes. “What makes you say that?”
“Well, Prismia told me that the Everheart is barely older than I am, so I would be pretty surprised if anypony had already written about it. Especially given how few ponies even know it exists.” Cadance took a smug sip of her beverage.
Are you actually—? The pieces snapped into place—pieces she’d been trying to jam into the wrong puzzle entirely, it seemed. Sunset squeezed her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of her muzzle. “It’s not a relic,” she said, as if putting it out in the world might prove it false.
“Not in the traditional sense, no.”
A scream welled up in Sunset’s throat, so she took a deep swig of her drink to suffocate it. Her face twisted the moment the liquid hit her tongue. It was as sickly sweet as the pony who’d poured it, tasting of maple candy drenched in honey. At least it gave her annoyance a second target.
“Okay,” she said, her voice infused with steam. “Since I wasted so much time trying to figure it out myself, hopefully you can just tell me. If it’s not an ancient artifact, where did it come from?”
Cadance’s smile dropped like a falling curtain. “Oh, um, that’s—”
“P-pardon. Princess, uh, Mi Amore?”
Sunset turned her glare to the side. The two students she’d noticed upon arriving in the courtyard stood there, gawking at Cadance like she was on display at Canterlot Museum.
Unsurprisingly, Cadance met them with all smiles and cheer, though her eyes looked wider than normal. “Oh, hello! Can I—?”
“It’s an honour to meet you!” the colt said, the words tumbling out like he’d tried to say them all at once. He pressed his face to the ground in an attempt at a bow, and the filly scrambled to follow suit. Sunset rolled her eyes over a scowl.
“The pleasure’s all mine,” Cadance said, bowing her own head a little. “You, um, don’t have to do that. And please, call me Cadance. We’re all friends here!”
“Of course, Princess!” the filly squeaked, shooting back up. Her horn sparked cyan like a cheap firecracker.
Ugh, I don’t have time for this. “Hey, newbies, you blind?” Sunset said, gesturing to the picnic at large. “We’re obviously busy here. Whatever you want to say, spit it out and get going.”
“It’s fine, Sunset,” Cadance said. She turned back to the interlopers. “Did you need anything?”
The filly bit her lip. “Oh, well, you see, we were just, ah, wondering… or, hoping, really… um…”
“Today would be nice,” Sunset said, weighing the pros and cons of dumping her drink over these two.
“Would you be able to sign our notebooks?” the colt said, producing one from a rough-looking bookbag. “We would be forever grateful!”
“Truly!” the filly added. “I-if it’s not too much trouble.”
Cadance’s ears threatened to droop, but they held firm. “No trouble at all! Do you have a quill, or…?”
“Yes! Certainly, Princess!” A quill fluttered out of the filly’s saddlepurse and over to Cadance.
Sunset intercepted it, overtaking the filly’s aura like a hydra stomping a mouse. “Yeah, no.” She got up and advanced a step towards the sycophants. “You two have a lot of nerve, wasting such an important pony’s time.” Namely, mine. “Obviously we want to be left alone, so take your notebooks, learn some manners, and get out of my face.”
She waited, ready to snuff out Cadance’s objection, but it never came. Looking over, she saw that Cadance had taken a newfound interest in her own hooves, staring down as she rubbed one over the other. “That’s a bit harsher than I would have put it, but we were kind of in the middle of something.” She glanced back at the students with a wilted smile. “If you two don’t mind, that is.”
The filly blinked quickly a few times. “O-of course not, Your Highness! A thousand pardons.” She bowed again.
“Yes, yes of course,” the colt said, dipping his head too. “Terribly sorry for the intrusion. We’ll let you get back to your…” His eyes ping-ponged between Sunset and Cadance. “…date?”
Twin volcanoes erupted in Sunset’s cheeks. The heat swelled up to her horn, through her magic, and incinerated the quill. “We are not—”
“We’re just friends,” Cadance said simultaneously.
“Obviously!” the filly stammered, throwing the colt a stiff elbow. Both of them stared at Sunset like they were gazing upon Nightmare Moon incarnate. “We’ll just, um, be going now.” The filly turned tail and galloped away.
“Sorry again!” the colt squeaked as he rushed to follow.
Sunset watched until they had cleared the picnic tables and crossed the bridge leading out of the courtyard. Lowering back to the blanket, she gathered up the ashes of the quill and cast them into the fountain. “Ridiculous,” she mumbled, her face beginning to cool.
“Thanks for the assist,” Cadance said, “but you didn’t have to be so rude. They were only—”
“They were the ones being rude! Who just butts in on somepony’s conversation like that? And then they have the gall to ask for your autograph? You should have shot them down yourself.”
“I…” She sighed. “I know. It’s just hard for me. I never had to deal with that sort of thing back home. Everypony in my village was so close—like one big family. Here it’s so much more… impersonal, I suppose.”
“Welcome to Canterlot.” Sunset took another pull of her drink. “Now, back on topic.”
Cadance blinked a couple of times and shook her head. “Um, right. You wanted to know where the Everheart came from?”
“Among other things, yes.” Sunset whisked a quill and parchment from her bag.
Cadance’s tail flicked about aimlessly. Her eyes wandered away from Sunset’s as she said, “My old teacher, Prismia. She gave it to me.” Her brow furrowed, but only by a wrinkle, like she’d sniffed a rotten peach in a fruit basket. “Well, that’s not quite right. She took it from me when I was little, then gave it back later. I originally got it from my mom, but I don’t know where she found it.”
The quill spun in Sunset’s magic. “You never thought to—oh, I don’t know—ask her?”
“We have a complicated relationship,” Cadance said, pulling over a bowl of mixed grapes. She took a red one, changed it for a white one, and popped it in her mouth.
Sunset took a white one as well. “Well, it sounds like she might know something useful. Think you can uncomplicate it enough to get in touch with her? Write a letter? Leave for a visit?” Maybe don’t come back?
Cadance gave a tiny nod, chewing more than anypony in history had ever needed for a single grape. “I’ll try, but I can’t promise anything.” She cupped her tankard in both hooves and took a long sip.
“Better than nothing,” Sunset said. She jotted down: Cadance has mommy issues. “The origin won’t be as important anyway if we can just figure out how it works. That’s what I wanted to ask about next.”
Her eyes finding their way back to Sunset’s, Cadance smiled and said, “All right, but I don’t know how much help I’ll be. Like I told you yesterday: I don’t really understand it that well.”
“You might not, but you’re talking to the pony who single-hoofedly uncovered the hidden properties of Myriad’s Mask before even losing all her foal teeth.” Really though, it hadn’t been surprising that an artifact based on changeling magic might be harboring some dark secrets.
“Now there’s a story I need to hear!” Cadance leaned in, and her ears perked up like a student whose teacher had unexpectedly called upon them. “That sounds quite impressive.”
“It was,” Sunset said with a smirk. “But that’s besides the point. All I need is for you to tell me what you did to trigger the Everheart. I can figure out the rest from there, or at least get a good bead on it.”
Cadance’s smile tightened. “Oh, that.” Her tail curled around herself, hugging one side of her body. “I mean, I would love to, but we’re having such a nice picnic. I don’t want to spoil the mood.”
Sitting up straighter, Sunset prepared another bite of salad and asked, “Why would it spoil anything? I figured it would be a happy story, given the”—her eyes narrowed at Cadance’s horn—“outcome.” She stuffed the bitter greens in her mouth.
“Don’t get me wrong: it all ended more wonderfully than I ever could have hoped. The weeks leading up to that, though…” Her mouth dug into her cheek, like a chipmunk concealing nuts. “Let’s just say that this”—she nodded up—“is pretty much the only good thing I’ve seen the Everheart do.”
Ooh, now we’re getting somewhere. “So it’s evil?”
Cadance’s eyes nearly popped from her face. “No, not at all! It’s just powerful. In the wrong hooves, it can…” Her eyes unfocused as she trailed off, gazing at something a thousand yards distant. She quietly ate a single cracker before continuing. “Anyway, it’s not really something I want to talk about. Not yet, at least.”
Sunset tapped her quill against the parchment, being careful not to stab right through. “Look, you want to understand it better, right? I can help with that, but not unless you give me all the details. It’s tough to solve a puzzle without every piece.”
“I get that, and I appreciate you wanting to help. Really. It’s just…” One of Cadance’s hooves tapped idly atop the other. “It’s hard to explain. I just need more time. Besides, we’re still a long way off from when we actually have to worry about the Everheart.” Blue light crackled on her horn. A red grape lifted from the bowl, wobbled in the air, and tumbled to the ground.
Sunset clenched her teeth. “The sooner I know what I’m training you for, the faster we’ll get there.” She paused, watching the tug-of-war between Cadance’s expressions, then added, “If you don’t want to talk about it, can you at least write it down? That would probably work even better.” She passed Cadance a quill and scroll, being extremely careful to give her a fresh piece of parchment.
For a few seconds, Cadance just stared blankly at the page like she’d never seen paper before. She frowned, but it quickly twitched neutral. She opened her mouth, closed it, started again, failed again, and finished with a shake of her head. “I’m sorry, I can’t,” she said, shoving the quill away. “It’s too soon.”
A groan clawed from Sunset’s throat. “Come on. How bad could it possibly be? Whatever it was turned you into a princess, for pony’s sake!”
When their eyes met, Cadance’s were glistening like sun-dappled puddles. “Sunset, I can tell you’re frustrated, but it isn’t that simple. You don’t know what you’re asking me to relive. I will tell you, but not here. Not now. Unless you really want to see me ugly cry, and personally, I don’t want you or… anypony else seeing me like that.” Her gaze drifted over Sunset’s shoulder.
Sunset’s head whipped around like a wolf defending her territory. She caught Shining Armor staring their way from across the park. He quickly switched to look at Twilight, who seemed to be writing equations in the dirt. Sunset glared for a good few seconds, mentally scorching his horrible, deceptive cutie mark.
“He keeps looking over here,” Cadance said. “I’m starting to get used to everypony staring at me, but… I don’t know. There’s something different about him.”
“Ignore him,” Sunset said, turning back. She grabbed the discarded lemon wedge and crushed the rest of it over her salad. “He’s a”—liar cheater backstabber coward pathetic guttersnipe—“loser.”
Cadance’s focus snapped to her like a vulture to carrion. “You know him?”
“Knew,” Sunset said. Eyeing her salad, she realized that she wasn’t even hungry anymore. She picked up the quill instead. “We had magic kindergarten together. Never got along.”
“Why not?”
“We just didn’t. That’s all there is to it.” A touch of grit snuck into her voice at the end. She poked the quill harshly against the paper.
“There must be some reason.”
“There isn’t, so drop it already. Some ponies just rub each other the wrong way.” Why am I playing along with this? Get back to the Everheart.
“I used to think so too, but once I got to know the ponies I didn’t get along with, I discovered that there’s usually more to them than I first thought. It all starts with a conversation.” When Sunset didn’t reply, Cadance nudged a plate of brownies towards her. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Sunset shoved the plate back before Cadance’s hoof even left it. “Does it look like I want to talk about it?” she said, then cursed herself for admitting there was an “it” to talk about at all.
Pulling her hoof back, Cadance said, “No, but sometimes those are the things you need to talk about most.”
“Try taking your own advice, Princess.” Her quill skated across the parchment in mad spirals—the written equivalent of incoherent screaming.
Cadance winced and bit her lip—a small victory, Sunset mused. Without another word, Cadance hung her head and glanced at the plate of brownies. She took one and nibbled at it.
Both of them fell silent. They picked at the food, and the minutes weighed heavy. Sunset kept a close eye over her shoulder, hoping to see Shining Armor and his family leave, but they stuck by the stream like burs in her coat. She occasionally glanced to the horizon, watching the sun fight its losing battle against dusk.
She brainstormed how best to pull more information out of Cadance. The direct approach hadn’t worked, so she needed a new tactic. Wait and see? Not realistic. Guilt trip? She’d just tried that—at least it had shut her up for a bit. Threat? Too risky if word got back to Princess Celestia, which was as certain as the sunrise. Blackmail? That might work. After all, it would be awfully embarrassing if the press caught wind of how Equestria’s new princess couldn’t even—
“You’re right,” Cadance said.
“Of course I am,” Sunset said—force of habit. “About what?”
Cadance sighed like she’d been awake for a week straight. “Even if I don’t want to talk about it, I need to.” She looked Sunset dead in the eyes. “And if… if you have all the details, do you really think you can help me understand the Everheart?”
Huh, that was easy. Sunset blinked and chuckled. “I didn’t get to be Princess Celestia’s protégé because of my good looks.” She gave her best reassuring smile—she had little experience with them, but Cadance would buy it; she would trust her finances to a diamond dog.
After a long, awkward stare, Cadance swallowed. “Okay,” she whispered. Then, louder, “Okay. Once we’re done here, if you want to, you can come back to my room with me. I’ll… I’ll tell you everything I can.” She smiled and puffed out a laugh, sweeping a wayward hair behind her ear. “Try to, anyway.”
Sunset's mouth twisted in a coy smirk. “Sounds perfect,” she said, stuffing her belongings into her saddlebags. She took a brownie in her magic, eyeing Cadance sharply. “You know, suddenly I’m a whole lot hungrier.” She took a bite, savouring the off-sweetness of the dark chocolate.
They finished the picnic in a colloquial haze as the sun set.