A Lost Kitten by Jessica Kong Page B

from his spot before John could slam the door in his face. He snarled at the boy’s departing back and slammed the door anyway.
    How dare they bring his clothes to him? How dare Yudit say he could not return to the house? John felt insulted, like he was thrown out of his own home. It was ridiculous, and he knew it. The house belonged to a ghost. Still, the feeling was there and he could not ignore it. He threw the bag on the bed and began putting all the clothes on.
    Last night’s foul mood had grown worse because of the dream he’d had. One dream, all evening, filled with Jasira’s incredible hands and fervent kisses. John inhaled deeply as he buttoned his third shirt. He smelled food and manure in the air. Nothing else.
    A sharp pain stabbed his chest. His brows drew closer together. Was he crazy? Why would he want to smell vanilla? He did not want Jasira near him. She was a ghost not a real woman. He hated ghosts. He had to remember that. Jasira touched him when he did not want to be touched. He had to remember that, too. He stormed out of his room bundled up like an Eskimo.
    John entered the dining hall. The usual people who resided in the castle were scattered about the room, eating their evening meal. The temperature in the room felt like several degrees below zero. John sensed a multitude of invisible beings in the large room. Were they actually there? He felt better blaming the intense cold on his haywire senses.
    He glanced toward the king’s table and saw Yudit talking to himself. The young king noticed him and gestured to an empty seat. John walked in his direction, unsure if he wanted to speak to Yudit. He resented the man for forbidding him to return to Jasira’s house.
    “I didn’t want to interrupt your prayer.”
    “I was not praying.” Yudit motioned to the chair on his left. “I was talking to an old fend of my fahder’s.”
    John saw no one in the chair. He was not about to believe what he felt.
    “Please, have a seat.” The king nodded to the chair in front of John.
    “Is it empty?”
    “It is.”
    John detected it was. “Good.” He pulled out the chair. “I didn’t want to sit on anyone.”
    John noticed the pitcher of wine in the middle of the table to his right. He did not drink wine that was not made from Aanari. Aanari wine was made by extracting the red fluid of a giant plant that was native to Oceana called Aatar. This liquid could get an individual drunk—even kill him—if large quantities were consumed. However, if mixed with the sweet nectar from an Engari tree, it served as a relaxing agent, without fear of intoxication.
    It was against Sea-anan law for Seacats and Sea Rangers to be under the influence of any substance. They had to be prepared for battle at all times. Therefore, Aanari wine was the only alcoholic beverage for warriors.
    After everything he had endured—from being attacked on Sea Base Ten, to crash-landing on Cerko, and now, to meeting Jasira—hot tea was the last thing John needed or wanted. He reached for the pitcher. He yanked back his hand as the pitcher rose in the air and floated toward his goblet. It poured its red contents into John’s cup, then floated back to its place on the table. John’s heart pounded at what he had witnessed.
    “What just happened?”
    The king swallowed his food, unaffected by the moving pitcher. “Malinda poured you some wine.”
    John’s eyes grew bigger at spotting a plate heaped with food sail across the room in his direction. He jumped from his seat and took several steps away from the approaching meal.
    “Relax. Celia is only bringing you your dinner.”
    John was unsure if he wanted to sit back down. “This didn’t happen before.” He stared at the plate, expecting it to do something else.
    “You did not know about us before. Now that you do, they will no longer pause in their chores when you are around.”
    John inched his way to the seat. “Pause in their chores?”
    Yudit set his goblet down and nodded