There was nothing worse than waiting for news of someone you loved.
Alethea, of course, had deduced that Tristan was missing within an hour of his absence being noted. News travelled fast in the castle, especially news of the prince – the kitchen girls were incapable of carrying on a conversation without mentioning him. At first, Thea was convinced it was nothing, that Tristan had merely gone exploring as he often did, and left his family worrying, as was his custom. But when he didn’t turn up that night, or the next, the buried worry clawed out of her gut and rested like a stone on her heart.
She searched for him, like everyone else.
The Black was better behaved since she had taken her friend’s advice and moved him far, far away from the mares in the stable, but he still had fire, and Thea used it. Together they ran for hours, looking everywhere she could think of, rising and setting with the sun. By the time the prince was returned to them, she was thin and brown and wild-looking, relief barely softening the edges of her fear.
She hovered over him in the infirmary, helping the nurses administer medicine and compresses, her blue eyes as hollow and cold as a winter sky. He seemed so weak and helpless, nothing like the Tristan she had grown to care for so much, and at times Alethea worried that he would never properly recover. But he did, of course. The doctors moved him to his own rooms as soon as his fever subsided.
Because she was terrible, Thea wished they hadn’t taken him away from her.
“You look much better,” she said with a shy smile as she stepped into his room for the first time in months. Her head bent into a practiced curtsy as the King passed her and moved into the hall, leaving the two of them alone. Her heart gave a little, silly flip, and Thea cleared her throat with an annoyed expression before recovering herself. “I’m so glad. Tristan, I was so worried about you.” Her light steps brought her to his bedside where she sat in the chair Arthur had occupied, and reached for his hand.
Touching his skin when it wasn’t burning, when his eyes regarded her with recognition, filled her with such a wave of relief that her eyes stung a moment with unshed tears. She blinked them back, smiling, and gave his hand a squeeze.
“Everyone is talking about your adventure, and I haven’t a clue what’s true and what’s a rumor. I’ve heard pirates, and lamrions, and sea monsters. I heard they locked you in a birdcage that dangled at the top of a cliff.” She frowned suddenly, shook her head. “I’m sorry. You probably don’t want to talk or think about your ordeal. I can only imagine...”
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