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When Tristan awoke, he found himself in the comforting embrace of his own bed within the castle walls. Sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows, casting colorful hues across the room. He groaned, gingerly touching his bandaged side.
Then his eyes focused on the figure seated next to him, and he blinked away the remnants of sleep to see Ryke holding the basin with the sundrop flower. The fragrant scent of the flower drifted through the air, adding a touch of tranquility to the space.
“What is this, cousin?” Ryke asked, peering into the bowl to inspect the flower.
Tristan wanted to reveal the truth behind the flower and its connection to the Dreamworld, but he didn’t think Ryke would understand. How could he explain the relentless pull of the Dreamworld and the secrets that awaited him there? How could he convey his need for answers?
“It’s just a remedy to help me sleep,” Tristan replied evasively.
Ryke placed the basin carefully back onto the table, his expression still tinged with suspicion. Still, he didn’t press the matter further. Instead, he shifted his attention to Tristan’s wound.
“You know,” Ryke began, his voice heavy with concern, “I’ve noticed you’ve been sleepwalking lately. And in the past few nights, it’s become more frequent. Have you considered that this substance you’ve been consuming might be the cause? They could be affecting your rest and leading to these episodes.”
Tristan had no idea he’d been sleepwalking. That would explain how he’d woken up in the forest instead of in his room.
“What happened today was a close call,” Ryke continued. “Rumple will not rest until he takes your life. You have to be more careful.”
Tristan’s gaze dropped to his hands, his fingers unconsciously tracing the edge of the bandage. The weight of his actions bore down upon him, but it was a burden he had to carry alone. “I appreciate your concern, cousin. There are... complexities I can't fully explain. But rest assured, I will address the matter.”
“I trust that you will,” Ryke conceded, his frown easing. “Just remember, I am here to offer my support in whatever way you need.”
A knock came from the door, and a moment later a servant entered the room.
“The tailor has arrived,” the servant announced. It seemed that the suit fitting for the upcoming ball demanded Tristan’s immediate attention. “They’re eager to ensure you make a resplendent appearance at the ball, sir.”
Confusion clouded Tristan’s thoughts. “The ball? But that isn’t for another few days.”
Ryke shook his head. “No, cousin. The ball is tonight. The court has been buzzing with the preparations for days.”
A jolt of apprehension surged through Tristan’s veins, his heartbeat quickening with the realization of his oversight. How had he lost track of time? The Dreamworld had drawn him deeper into its depths, blurring the boundaries of reality.
“Tonight…” Tristan whispered. “The ball where I must find a wife… is tonight.”
The allure of the Dreamworld tugged at his every thought, beckoning him to return. He wanted to go back and confront Aurora about her secrets. Yet, duty called, a royal ball that was put in place so as to save his life, as well as his kingdom. Finding a wife would mean having offspring, and as soon as his child came into this world, his contract with Rumpelstiltskin would be nullified. His kingdom was counting on him.
“Very well,” Tristan sighed. “Let us proceed with the fitting, then.”
Before long, Tristan was standing in front of a full-body mirror. The tailor’s deft hands moved swiftly, adjusting the suit fabric around Tristan’s frame. However, his mind remained consumed by thoughts of Aurora and the secrets she’d kept from him. She was Midas’ daughter. His enemy. Betrayal simmered within him, an ember of hurt lodged in the pit of his stomach.
“Tristan?” Ryke’s voice cut through Tristan’s thoughts. “I’ve been talking to you, but it seems you've been elsewhere. Are you all right?”
Tristan snapped back, his eyes refocusing on Ryke’s concerned face. He offered a half-hearted smile, his mind still entangled with thoughts of Aurora. “Forgive me. My mind has been preoccupied lately. I’m all right, truly. What were you saying?”
Ryke’s features softened, his concern morphing into a thoughtful expression. “Are you nervous about tonight?” he asked. “About finding a wife?”
Tristan looked deeply at his reflection in the mirror. “A king must do what a king must do,” he murmured. “But I do not wish to burden you with my troubles. This must be a joyful occasion, and I will be sure to make it so.”
Ryke beamed. “You make a great king, Tristan. And I am positive you will find a great queen to stand by your side.”
“Thank you, cousin.”
“Now, since you mentioned making the ball a joyous occasion, I was wondering…” Ryke ran a hand through his hair. “Would you consider asking Lexa to sing at the ball? Her voice has a way of enchanting the crowd, and I believe it would make your ball all the more special.”
“That’s a splendid idea,” Tristan replied. “I will extend the invitation to her. Thank you.”
As the tailor made final adjustments to the suit, Ryke dropped his gaze to the floor and ran a hand through his black hair. “Also… I’ll be leaving in the morning,” he said. “The ball will be our last evening here for a while.”
