Tristan’s words were a comfort. She did not know if she believed them – not yet, not really, not with the pain of Gibbs’ death still fresh in her heart – but it was a balm to know that her friend did not see her as a monster. She smiled a little, watching him as he spoke, soothed by the gentleness in his pretty green eyes.
“Thank you, Tristan. Gibbs did try to stop me, though...he didn’t want to go. It was like he knew. And I convinced him to go anyway.” Her own eyes looked tired as she said this, and though it hurt to say it out loud, she did not cry. “So, even though it was the Manekhtites that killed him, I was the one who put him in their way. And then I was the one that held him back, when we were running...I was worried about the other people on the beach, but I didn’t stop to think about his safety. I can’t help but feel guilty, for all that.” She shook her head, as if to dislodge the memory, and looked out at the twilit sky. “Maybe I’ll learn to forgive myself, in time.”
She’d said it for Tristan’s benefit, she realized. To shield him from the truth, that she did not know how she could ever forgive herself. Gibbs had left his family behind to come lead her cadre of servants and guards, and now he would never return to them. How could she face them again, when she visited her own family? The events on the beach would all come rushing back. She sighed, curling her fingers in Leto’s fur. “And of course I worry about you,” Alethea began, but was interrupted by her friend’s impression of his father. She smiled, despite herself – laughed lightly. “That...is very convincing.” How did he do that? She felt as low as she had ever felt, yet here he was, cheering her. She felt almost guilty.
Her hand closed over his on her shoulder, squeezed softly. “Thank you. You’re a good friend.” These were the only words that seemed appropriate, after such a declaration. That he didn’t regret coming to her rescue after all the had happened since then, that he would do it again, made the memory somehow less painful. Her eyes were a little glossy with grateful tears. Leto nosed over toward him, put her chin on his hip. The wolf’s golden eyes contained gratitude, too, but not sadness. It was the first time she had heard her fairy laugh, seen her smile, since that day. Even meeting Thoth had not comforted her this much.
But then, Thea didn’t seem to look at Thoth the way she looked at Tristan.
She smiled again, wiped the tears with the hand that had rested on her familiar, lifted the boy’s hand from her shoulder and placed it, fingers interlaced, on her knee. “Enough about me. How have you been? Is your father letting you out, at all?”
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