Cress is a patient teacher.
In a few days' time, she teaches Thorne what sounds correlate with the words he already knows. She tells him that the creaky sound coming down the hallway means meals in their rooms. She teaches him how certain types of footsteps mean guards or worse, Sybil Mira. She doesn't laugh when he jumps at new noises or when someone else comes into a room when he hasn't been expecting it.
At the same time, she brings him up to speed about human vocabulary and otherness. She holds his hand the first few days of walking. She doesn't laugh when he stumbles or trips into things, even when it's unclear if it's because of his newfound blindness or humanness. She lies for him, says how bad he got hurt in his shipwreck.
For once, he's relieved that he bothered saving a human.
Still, he misses the sea, he misses his sister, and he misses his eyes.
He does not miss responsibility, or anyone trying to tell him he needs more of it. Here he is a prince of his own kind: one who commands his own destiny, as no one but him knows what it really should have been.
And then there's Cress.
He's not sure if what's happening to him is called love because he's never been in love before. And though Cress sometimes lets him kiss her, it's always when no one is looking. At least — from a lack of footsteps or creaking or talking — it seems there's no one looking. He gets it; he was never one to kiss and tell either, even if he liked to pretend he did just to make his sister mad.
But at least most people could tell when he was interested in someone.
With Cress, he can't really tell. He can't see how she is with other people when he's not there, or know if she's sending secret looks to someone else even though he's present. He tries not to think too hard about it. It digs somewhere deep in his soul. And that's never a good feeling.
He blames his new lack of confidence on his new lack of sight and tail.
"What are we doing today?" Thorne asks her.
They're strolling outside on the beach, which they've started doing every morning. Cress figured out he likes dipping his toes in the water because it feels a little bit more like home. He's figured out that she likes holding his hand while they walk — even though he no longer needs it for support. The sand is sloped and uneven, but he's learned that walking on this type of surface is a bit like swimming against the current.
"I want you to meet someone," she says.
He stops. "Not Sybil."
"Well, yes. We've been avoiding her long enough. I told her that you'll finally be well enough for us to hold the banquet in your honor tomorrow. But that's not who I meant."
"Sybil tried to kill you. I can't believe you haven't banished her from your kingdom."
"Thorne. There are many things happening in my kingdom that many would not understand. I must keep feigning ignorance that she tried to hurt me."
"I saw you fighting. You can use me as a witness."
Her thumb runs along his lips, silencing him. "You're blind. No one will believe you."
"Thanks." He has much more to say about the topic, but isn't ready to ruin their beach walks yet. With a resigned sigh, he tugs her along the uneven sand. "So, who am I meeting?"
"His name is Dr. Erland."
"Good morning, Your Highness," Dr. Erland says. "It's always a pleasure to see you in my shop."
Cress leaves Thorne and he imagines that the man is bowing in front of the beautiful young princess.
"It's wonderful to see you again, Dr. Erland," Cress chirps. "This is my friend, Thorne."
"Ah." Something rustles — papers? Though they have books under the sea, they sound differently than they do in the air. There's a squeak and then there are footsteps. Maybe he was sitting, then.
"I've heard about you."
Thorne jumps at the man's voice so close to his ear. "Excellent things, I imagine."
Dr. Erland harrumphs and then a cold, slightly wrinkly hand presses against Thorne's. There's silence as they shake hands, and Thorne winces as Dr. Erland squeezes down against his fingers. He pulls away as fast as he can.
"Yes," Dr. Erland says, "only excellent things course." Thorne can tell he doesn't mean it at all.
"Have you heard about his shipwreck then?" Cress says. Her fingers find his again and he's relieved to have her gentle touch back.
"Indeed. Must have been quite the ordeal."
Okay, so the man doesn't believe he was in a shipwreck at all. Thorne cocks his head. "What was it you do again?"
He harrumphs again. "Does the 'Dr.' in Dr. Erland not give it away?"
Cress laughs, but it's not her nervous laugh — and Thorne has memorized her laughs by now — so the girl clearly has no clue that Dr. Erland doesn't like him at all. It's probably because some people who associate with royalty also don't like associating with those who aren't royalty. He imagines it'll be the same with Sybil Mira at the banquet, so he supposes this is good practice.
"That's funny," Cress says with another giggle. "Thorne, Dr. Erland is our best herbalist. I thought perhaps he could take a look at your eyes and see if he can't give you something that might make them better."
"Do you really think that —"
Dr. Erland yanks him away from Cress and then he's sitting in a stool of some sort, his head tilted back. The man's fingers pry open his eyelids. Thorne squirms away and Dr. Erland almost scratches him.
"Hey! What do you think you're doing?" He's on his feet and he dusts himself off as if Boots had just been climbing all over him, leaving all that fur on his clothes.
An impatient foot tapping. "In order for me to examine your eyes, I must actually examine them." He has a stuffy accent, like he's not from the same land where Cress comes from. Thorne decides it's rather snooty and irritating.
"Naturally," he says. "But do you actually have to touch my eyes? I'm perfectly capable of keeping my eyelids open even if I can't see."
"Come on, Thorne." Cress guides him back into the chair. "Let him do what he needs to do."
For some reason, a cold sweat breaks out on Thorne's neck as Dr. Erland pries open his eyelids again. His stomach garbles and he gets dizzy when the man flips his eyelid inside out. His vision is black but his mind sees the horrified look on his sister's face and the red of Levana's lips right before she stabbed out his eyes.
"Hmm." Dr. Erland's breath smells like fish. Which used to smell good, but above land is not so appetizing — especially coming out of someone else's mouth.
When he finally lets go of him, Thorne feels like he's been hanging upside down for hours.
"Is there anything that can be done?" Cress asks. "The regular doctors have tried everything but they say something must have pierced his eyes during the shipwreck. Only time can tell but they are doubtful."
"Doubtful isn't a great word," Thorne says quickly. "Let's remove that from our vocabulary."
Dr. Erland says, "There are remedies we could try. Sometimes the body can heal itself. We could perform a minimal surgery."
"I thought you were an herbalist," Thorne says, the queasy feeling coming back. He imagines scalpels and dinner knives attacking his eyes.
"Perhaps surgery was too grand of a word. I'll be making incisions to extract useful ingredients for a tonic."
Thorne licks his lips nervously. "Incisions where?"
"The elbow, the stomach, the middle of the thigh, and the pubic bone."
Thorne has learned enough about the human anatomy the last several days that he doesn't have to ask where any of those body parts are. He recoils and takes a step back, crushing Cress's foot underneath his.
She yelps.
"I don't think that will be necessary. And a tonic? I'm not drinking anything from my own body."
"Very well." There are footsteps and then the same sound of the chair.
"I think we should try it," Cress says.
"There is no we in this it. I'm the one who would be getting all of the incisions in four of my body parts."
"Don't you want to give healing the best shot? Dr. Erland doesn't offer his services to many people."
I wonder why.
He pulls Cress aside, unsure if he's really moving farther away from Dr. Erland and his desk. "Can I think about it? My body has been through a lot of changes lately." He cups her cheek gently and finds her ear, whispering, "I know you've noticed."
"Stop," she whispers back, a little irritably, "you're making me blush."
He steps back. Right. They're in public. Cress doesn't appreciate his advances in public, even if he meant — for once — his comment rather innocently. He was been referring to his former secret state of merman.
"Sorry," he says officially, adapting the voice that he used when speaking with subjects at court. "I only meant that the past few days have been difficult with recovering from my injuries. I can still feel the bruises all over my body. I think it will be better to wait a little longer before injecting things into my skin. And other places. I should be in top shape for the banquet tomorrow."
"The longer you wait," Dr. Erland says, "the less likely you are to recover."
"I suppose I'll take that chance," he says coolly. The air is getting warm and that nauseous feeling returns to his stomach. He just wants to go back to his room. "Thank you for your time, Dr. Erland. It's been a pleasure."
He prods the ground in front of him with the walking stick that Cress gave him. It's not perfect but it does help him not slam into things as much. He finds the exit and hurries out of the stuffy shop. He sighs when he remembers he has no idea how to get back to the castle. They walked a long time along the beach.
Cress catches up with him before he can make any wrong turns.
"Thorne! What's wrong?"
He schools his features. "Just hungry. You ready to eat something?"
He can tell by the pregnant pause that she wants to say more, but after a moment she simply says, "Sure. There's a crab shack I've been wanting to take you to. Do you eat crab?"
He takes deep breath before throwing himself into the change of topic. "Sure. If someone else catches it. Nasty little buggers always try to cut your tail."
She laughs. "They're already dead by the time they arrive on your plate. Cooked and everything."
"Cooked?" He shakes his head sadly. "We need to have a serious conversation about how you humans eat seafood. Tsk, tsk, tsk."
Her hand finds his. He takes it, though this time a bit reluctantly. Why is it okay to hold his hand, but not give her a caress? Do they mean different things, here in this strange land called Satellite?
There are so many things he wants to tell her and ask her, but what if she doesn't feel the same? He hasn't even been in Satellite for a week. They barely know each other. They're a different species. Will things get weird between them? Will he lose his human guide? The only one who knows the truth? Where will he go if he doesn't have Cress?
"Crab sounds good, though," he says, forcing his voice to come out chipper. "Lead the way."
