Page 61

BIG CAT MAGIC

G isele watched the dove disappear. The world felt strangely quiet now that the thunder of power had faded, even though she could hear a hubbub of voices and running feet approaching.

Presumably every guard in the palace was now making a beeline for them, and the lock on the garden gate wouldn’t hold them out for long.

“Zingiber!” she remembered suddenly, sprinting back to the cat.

He lay unmoving in the sunlight, limbs more unnaturally limp than even a cat’s should be.

Bloodied streaks marred his fur from the hawk’s claws.

He didn’t appear to be breathing. “Zingiber,” she pleaded, petting his side. He didn’t move.

Gently, she picked him up, cradling him against her chest. His body felt small and fragile, totally at odds with his personality.

“It’s all right,” she told him. “We’ll patch you up.

You can have all the f-fish you can eat.

” Her voice hitched, and she was crying, because Zingiber would never demand fish ever again, and deep down she couldn’t pretend otherwise any longer.

Tears blurred her vision, and she buried her face in Zingiber’s fur.

Zingiber, who it had seemed safe to love, who had been so loyal in his own way, and who hadn’t deserved any of this. She cried harder.

Mal put his arms around them both. She sobbed into his shoulder.

The comforting scent of books and cut grass swirled around them, his warmth seeping into her like liquid sunlight.

Mal made a soft, odd sigh and went boneless, and the inside of her skull vibrated with strange resonance, as if an enormous bell had sounded with her inside it.

The cat in her arms wriggled. She stilled, hope rising even as she knew she had to have imagined it?—

He wriggled again.

Why must you hold me so tightly! You’re squashing my tail! Zingiber’s irascible voice sounded in her head, but she ignored it, hugging him even tighter.

“Zingiber!”

Pleased as I am to be greeted in tones of wonder, I would like to be put down now.

Reluctantly, she released him. The cat hopped out of her arms as if he’d never been injured; even the blood was gone from his fur. What?—?

Mal chose that moment to topple over into the grass.

She scrambled over to his side. “Mal!”

His eyes were closed, and real terror coursed through her because she had just seen Zingiber die and if Mal had done something stupid like sacrifice himself in order to save him… “If you’re dead, I will never, ever forgive you!”

Her heart only started beating again when he opened his eyes with a groan of protest. “Not dead,” he mumbled. “Flame-out. Too much magic too quickly, and I’m not used to it these days. Zingiber?”

“Alive, thanks to you.”

He grinned, a bit of life coming back despite his exhaustion. “No. Thanks to you. It was your heart’s wish. Easier with a cat, of course. You have—the most beautiful heart.”

“What do you mean, ‘easier with a cat’?”

“Nine lives.” His words slurred, and his eyes fluttered closed again.

“Oh no you don’t! You’re both coming back to Skymallow right now so we can check you properly!

” Her uncertainty crystallised around that goal.

A distant part of her was saying things like you should probably talk to your parents and someone needs to explain what happened here to the guards , but the much, much larger part said, firmly, that everybody else could wait.

She wanted to see Skymallow and Mal and Zingiber all safe, all together, craving the safety of home with single-minded intensity.

All other considerations could sod off until that had been achieved.

Prodding a half-conscious Mal to his feet was an exercise in patience. Eventually, she got an arm under his shoulder, and he wrapped his tail around her waist for balance. She coaxed Zingiber into finding the waypoint.

It’s there , he said, sniffing as if this were obvious.

“I don’t have your nose. Or Mal’s,” she pointed out.

Poor nose-blind kitten , Zingiber agreed.

She now knew that Faerie wasn’t usually anywhere like as easy to get into as it had been on her first attempt, but she also knew that a lot of fae magic responded to intent and that the more times people used a waypoint, the thinner the veil between the realms got at that location.

Closing her eyes, she willed the way to open again, muttering to Mal that he could very well choose to help at any time.

“Hmmm, bossy,” was his helpful remark, but she felt the thread of his insignia rise around them. Even weakened, it was more complex than it had been before—before he’d been named .

Two critical things happened at once: First, the wavering portal between realms sprang into being. Second, the palace guard finally got the gate open and tumbled into the garden with her brother Boern. They pulled up short at the sight of her.

“Gisele!” Boern cried, eyes wide with alarm.

Gisele had no time for whatever form of reunion they were going to have or to try to keep Mal out of the dungeon where they were likely to want to throw him once they’d worked out who he was.

So she merely said, “I’m fine, Boern. Don’t touch the thorns; they’re poisonous.

I’ll see you later,” and stepped her and Mal through the waypoint, pulling back her power from it as soon as she did so.

“…’s that?” Mal asked foggily.

“Boern. My twin.” She gave a slightly hysterical laugh. “Goodness knows what he made of that.”

It took Mal a while to work through that information, as most of his attention was taken up with putting one foot in front of the other. “Why didn’t you go with him?” he asked eventually.

“Because I’m looking after your sorry self.”

She felt Skymallow’s presence like a flame as they crossed the meadow, and a bit of tension went out of her.

She hadn’t been sure she would still feel the house, without the bond.

Skymallow felt worried, but she couldn’t see any damage at a distance.

Whatever had happened with Avern, he hadn’t hurt the house; that much of their plan had worked, at least.

Apfela met them at the gate. She took in Mal’s state with resignation. “That’s twice in as many days you’ve had to get your girl to help carry you home,” she observed. Mal beamed at her, which made Apfela frown in suspicion. “Are you out of your head?” she demanded.

“Skymallow! It worked!” he said happily. “Thank you.”

“What he means is that he’s thrilled to see both you and Skymallow are unharmed,” Gisele translated.

“He used too much magic again. He’s fine,” she added for Skymallow’s benefit, feeling the house nosing at them anxiously.

“Aren’t you?” She elbowed Mal, who mumbled something vaguely affirmative. “Mal!”

“Yes,” he grumbled. “Jus’ need to sleep.”

Apfela heaved a great sigh. “ Fine .” Unasked for, she took Mal off Gisele with all the ease of a woman picking up a kitten and paying just as much attention to his protest at this treatment.

“Stop complaining; I’m the one who’d have to help you up the steps otherwise!” Gisele told him.

He subsided, muttering and looking extremely ridiculous held in Apfela’s arms.

“Did it work, then, your spell?” Apfela watched Zingiber bound up the stone steps to the front door. Carrying Mal didn’t affect her breathing at all; she really was stupendously strong.

“He got his name, and Avern isn’t a danger anymore.”

The front door swung open, and Gisele directed Apfela to the first door off the entrance, not questioning her instinct but still taken aback when it opened into her bedroom rather than the sitting room that was usually in that location.

“Thank you,” she said to Skymallow.

Apfela dumped Mal onto Gisele’s bed. “I hope you appreciate this. And her.”

Mal made a garbled but broadly affirmative sound, and Apfela shook her head and let herself out. By the time Gisele had pulled his coat, neckcloth, and boots off, his eyes had closed again, but when she would have left him there, his hand shot out and closed around her wrist.

His eyes opened a sliver. They were still in their mismatched state, she realised with a shock. What did that mean?

“Stay?” He let out a long sigh. “I’m always asking you that.”

“I will,” she told him, which sent a shudder of relief through him. “This is my bed, after all.”

That made him smile as she arranged herself, pulling off enough layers to be comfortable.

She’d thought he’d lapsed back into sleep, but as soon as she crawled into the bed, he folded himself around her like a determined octopus, murmuring happily.

There was a low vibrating sound, and it took her a moment to realise that it was coming from him and that he was purring.