The little lady had never been to earth. She wouldn’t have known about itinerants and shops, but she did know about cruel behavior – had experienced her fair share of it, recently. Cruel gods, cruel zealots, cruel children...there seemed to be an endless supply of uncharitable behavior in the world. But her own nature was unfailingly generous, even when she should have been guarded.
She smiled, encouraging. “Your bag,” she started to explain, not wanting the girl to think she’d made a jab at her attire, but was cut short by her sudden compliment to Leto. A stab of discomfort shot through her stomach – Leto’s discomfort, she knew, but it felt as immediate as her own. She splayed her fingers over it, surprised. The wolf whined faintly. It wasn’t that familiars were necessarily aloof or afraid of contact, but the one in question was young, with a young bond, and any touch but her fairy’s made Leto inexplicably anxious. It was hard enough to get her to talk.
“It’s all right,” Alethea reassured the girl, and placed a comforting hand on the wolf’s head. “We’re just not used to meeting so many new people. Until a few months ago, we’d spent our whole lives at my family’s home in the country.” She smiled again, as much in relief as cheerfulness, as Leto’s anxiety began to ebb. When Saoirse offered her hand, she took it, though it seemed an odd gesture for girls. “The pleasure is mine. I’m Alethea, and this is Leto.”
“Leto is beautiful, but you should see Tristan’s familiar. Celidon is a Cu Sith.” Her eyes instinctively scanned the dance floor, missing Leto’s affronted glare, before she remembered that the prince was out somewhere with his new friends. She sighed. “Are you hungry? Thirsty? There is plenty for everyone. Help yourself! Oh–” she stopped a passing waiter with her smile, lifted two hors d’oeuvres off his tray, and offered one to Saoirse. “These are especially good.”
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