Aishani was feeling altogether too pleased with herself, and that was dangerous. Even Iesaryth, who was fond of feeling smarter than just about everyone else, was nudging her about the mood she was in.
« Sorry to interrupt your admittedly rare gloating, Shan... but packing a bag doesn't make the whole thing done. I'd rather you be paranoid. » And that was saying something. The queen could tell her more, more of her apprehension about this plan, but there were some things that her rider could always sway her in, if she cared enough - Iesaryth was just too laid-back, and Shani's will was too strong.
Don't second-guess. It's fine. It'll all be fine. We won't get away with it again. So if Iesaryth found the experience lacking, no one would ever let them run off like this another time anyway. This once was basically a guarantee that they'd be watched the next time the gold even came close to rising. Or maybe even from this time to the next. But it was too late at this point, with the spot picked, excuses made, more lies told, camp set up, bag packed. And, frankly, she didn't really care, not as long as she got what she wanted. Especially now, especially if it were Hraedhyth...
Though, with a flicker of a look towards the ledge, toward Iesaryth, she couldn't be too sure that it would be the other gold. It was just that the older pair were, as with all things, much more obvious than Shani and Iesaryth. Her own dragon's hide was always bright as well, especially when sunbursts met sunlight - who would notice the subtle shifts but her? Who would notice anything at all while they watched Azaylia and Hraedhyth? Shani didn't do anything interesting - all she did was sleep. At least, it felt like all she did was sleep, whenever Iesaryth did, and she was a dragon that liked to nap. It was glorious. No dreams of the gallows disturbed her, no regrets kept her awake. It was like she was packing turns of lost sleep into days.
Aishani still didn't really know how she felt about the idea of Azaylia being Weyrwoman, especially after Iolene's death, those days following. At the same time, she still didn't know how she felt about being that herself - something that her family would certainly never forgive, her cousin might never trust; something that, if the plan worked, would change things drastically.
No. Hraedhyth's flight would certainly come first, and would moreover be at the Weyr. Everything would already be decided once Iesaryth went up. She might technically be in trouble after, but she couldn't see Azaylia being that angry with her. It was likely all for the best, the way it seemed to be working out. Her ambition could take the hit. She could content herself by knowing that she had her supporters. They'd likely never stand behind her if they knew, but who at High Reaches would?
She took her bag, and the sacks of food she'd had sent from the kitchens out to Iesaryth - best not to waste any time. Everything was going better than planned. She wouldn't say perfectly, never perfectly - but it was going well. Her fingers touched the wood of one of her chairs on her way out, for luck. She was used to making her own, but it never hurt.
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