THOTH & MORVEREN
Thoth shot Alethea a look which plainly read so? and thought for a moment about her ‘but’. Why shouldn’t he dislike someone after only just meeting them? There was certainly nothing to like about Alistair, who came across as rude, attention-seeking, condescending and expecting of help even in spite of all the former. The first meeting with a person was usually how one judged whether there was enough of a potential bond to merit subsequent meetings. Why put effort into trying to like someone who was unlikeable, when that energy could be better spent on other people? That was only logical.
Unfortunately, by the tender age of thirteen, Thoth had already learnt that most people weren’t worth the effort. Of all the people he had known and become close to in his life, only a meagre handful hadn’t let him down so far. Tristan was the only fairy he really trusted, and even their relationship had its strains – like the last time they had met, when Tris had told the king about Thoth’s illegal plans to travel to Earth. Time had made him understand that his friend had acted in his best interests, but every now and again he felt a glimmer of resentment over the hypocrisy. Closely followed, invariably, by the wave of guilt that came from knowing that there was no better way the prince could have behaved while Thoth was acting under the influence of hypnosis.
“No,” he replied automatically to her question, feeling a touch defensive. Thanks to his brittle bone condition, Thoth was seriously hurt with much more frequency than most other children. If he really thought about it, he supposed he could be ‘coarse’ – but that was usually because someone else had done or said something deserving of it, and not because he was hurt. Or did they? Could he be just as bad as Alistair? Thoth glanced doubtfully at the older boy being attended to by the healers for a moment, before shaking his head emphatically. “No, I wouldn’t. You can’t let your injuries define you.”
Or your weaknesses.
Alethea’s second question hit him like a punch in the stomach, and he felt his mouth go dry. She’d seen that? He’d been so sure that he was alone. Now what was she going to think, that he held funeral services for snakes or that he liked tending girly flowers? Her tone of voice didn’t sound at all like she was about to tease him, but Thoth had heard mock sympathy from other kids so often that he had a difficult time picking it apart from the real thing. He hesitated, but decided to give her the benefit of the doubt.
“Atkiss, my Garter snake,” he mumbled, staring at the floor. For some reason he felt inclined to shamefully add, “I forgot to get his quail chick.”
Atkiss might have died before Thoth could bring the chick to him if he’d remembered, but he still died waiting for the present that Thoth forgotten all about.
Luckily, Alistair provided a distraction in that moment by leaping up, yelling and batting away the healer’s hand. Ungrateful. Thoth took the opportunity to scowl heavily at him but wisely kept his remarks to himself.
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