It took approximately no time for the frustration to well up, replacing the confusion and embarrassment, and especially the guilt that Alethea felt every time she’d caught a glimpse of Tristan since the party. Much as she reminded herself that it could not be her fault that Mordred kissed her – it could not – and furthermore there was no reason for her to feel badly about that kiss, anyway, since Tristan had been off with his harem, she still felt as if she had betrayed him, somehow. Betrayed him! Imagine.
“Thea!”
The Prince is coming after you.
“Yes, Leto. I am aware, thank you.” Of course, of course he was coming after her. Of course. Naturally he could come after her now, when she was not particularly in the mood to see him. Yes, of course. Now was obviously best.
Leto dashed alongside him, quite unwilling to treat Tristan with the same annoyance. If she had had the right sort of mouth for smiling, she would have grinned a bit at this new experience her fairy was having, and the little drama that was unfolding before them. In many years, she was sure, this would all seem very silly. But she came up short as the Prince blocked the archway. “Your highness!” she yipped in warning, but it was too late – the stallion was already skidding to a halt, rearing up ferociously, and coming down with a thud and an exceptionally dramatic snort. Alethea stared down at him, appalled.
“TRISTAN. ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND.” Her shout contained all of the pent up emotion she had been experiencing for weeks, and the color in her face had deepened well beyond the glow of girlish affection. “THIS HORSE IS GREEN. HE HAS A TEMPER. HE TRIED TO KILL MILTON THREE TIMES JUST THIS MORNING. HE COULD HAVE KILLED YOU.” She pulled the stallion’s head to the left, so that she might stare down at the boy without the distracting twitch of black velvet ears. “And for what? You suddenly want my company? Whatever will your girls think?” The horse pawed, impatient, at the gravel. Alethea gave him his head with a scowl, and he quickly moved to push past Tristan and into the stable yard. Leto suspected he was as eager to be out of the crossfire as he was for water and a rest. With Tristan now behind her, the little lady’s lip was quivering, but she couldn’t tell if it was from sadness or rage.
Because that was it, wasn’t it? Just as Mordred said. Tristan only noticed her when it pleased him – he was just as content to spend his time with a mindlessly cheering crowd. And yet he had her attention all the time, even when she was dancing with his handsome uncle, who would have been a much more reasonable object of her affection. For gods’ sake, the Prince was just a boy.
A very special boy.
Alethea dismounted gracelessly, exhausted, before the stable hand could put the block under her feet. Waving off the young man’s help, she led her stallion to his stall, and began untacking him herself.
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