should wake up in a matter of a few days. But only ‘when he’s good and ready’, so don’t nag me, Mrs Royal Adviser.”
When the attending witches left the room to fetch some potions, and Grimswald bustled off in search of an extra pillow, Kahin seized the moment, reached down and took Redrought’s strong young hand. It was calloused and the nails were bitten down to the quick. Kahin tutted and frowned as she decided to bring some of her grandmother’s sovereign skin cream next time she visited. The boy had the complexion of a peasant, not a King! She patted his hand and squeezed it, in an effort to let him know he wasn’t alone, when suddenly, she felt the squeeze returned!
Gasping, she knelt beside the bed and smoothed the fiery hair from his brow. “Redrought, can you hear me? Are you with us?”
The boy took a deep breath. “Of course I can hear you. And where else would I bloody well be?” His voice was barely a whisper, but then he opened his eyes, coughed, cleared his throat then said, “Hiya, Kahin! We beat them! We beat the bastards!”
“Yes . . . y-yes, you did,” she agreed, standing back hurriedly and blinking away the tears which for some reason had welled up. “I knew you could do it.”
The King was silent for a moment as his thoughts coalesced. He’d been unconscious for several days, but his natural strength and youthful resilience now combined to clear his head and drive him back to something like full awareness. “You knew I could do it, did you? I didn’t. In fact I don’t think we would have done without Cadwalader.” Redrought paused and his face fell. “Caddy died. He attacked the were-wolf King and he killed him.”
“No, he didn’t! He’s here,” said Kahin excitedly. She grabbed the unconscious animal and held him up for the young King to see.
“Caddy!” Redrought boomed in delight, and with a sudden convulsive twist the cat woke up, leapt from Kahin’s arms and onto the bed. Immediately he opened his mouth and yowled for the pure joy of living, and Redrought threw back his head and laughed.
Kahin found herself looking at the ceiling to see if the plaster had been cracked by the explosion of sound, but she couldn’t see anything through the tears that had inexplicably welled up again. His recovery was amazing. He’d beenunconscious for days, and yet here he was laughing and talking as though nothing had happened.
“We did for ’em, Caddy! Me and you, we did for ’em!”
“There might have been a few others involved,” Kahin pointed out tartly, as she recovered from the shock of Redrought’s lightning recuperation. “Like an entire army.”
“Yes,” Redrought agreed. “They did well. They’re a proper fighting force now. Something to be reckoned with. Anyway,” he suddenly said, changing the subject, “what’s wrong with your eyes?”
“Nothing. I think I’m allergic to the cat.”
“Rubbish! Nobody could be allergic to Caddy . . . apart from werewolves and Vampires, that is.”
Kahin patted his arm, and even managed to tickle the top of Cadwalader’s head. “I’ll go and find one of the witches. They’ve probably got some vile medicine to give you.”
“Oh, great!” replied Redrought grumpily. Then he brightened up slightly. “I don’t suppose you could find me a beer, and some fish for the hero cat who sank his teeth into the werewolf King?”
Kahin said she’d do her best and left the warrior monarch of the Icemark informing his cat he was a “big thmelly fluffy puthy cat” while he tickled his tummy.
As she left the room, Grimswald burst in, his face alight with relief and joy. She closed the door on his reunion with the young boy and tried to tell herself that of course she wasn’t jealous of his closeness to Redrought. She was just glad that everything seemed to be all right at last.
Later that day, Kahin returned to the King’s room to find Wenlock Witchmother and another woman talking to him.Judging by her shabby
When the attending witches left the room to fetch some potions, and Grimswald bustled off in search of an extra pillow, Kahin seized the moment, reached down and took Redrought’s strong young hand. It was calloused and the nails were bitten down to the quick. Kahin tutted and frowned as she decided to bring some of her grandmother’s sovereign skin cream next time she visited. The boy had the complexion of a peasant, not a King! She patted his hand and squeezed it, in an effort to let him know he wasn’t alone, when suddenly, she felt the squeeze returned!
Gasping, she knelt beside the bed and smoothed the fiery hair from his brow. “Redrought, can you hear me? Are you with us?”
The boy took a deep breath. “Of course I can hear you. And where else would I bloody well be?” His voice was barely a whisper, but then he opened his eyes, coughed, cleared his throat then said, “Hiya, Kahin! We beat them! We beat the bastards!”
“Yes . . . y-yes, you did,” she agreed, standing back hurriedly and blinking away the tears which for some reason had welled up. “I knew you could do it.”
The King was silent for a moment as his thoughts coalesced. He’d been unconscious for several days, but his natural strength and youthful resilience now combined to clear his head and drive him back to something like full awareness. “You knew I could do it, did you? I didn’t. In fact I don’t think we would have done without Cadwalader.” Redrought paused and his face fell. “Caddy died. He attacked the were-wolf King and he killed him.”
“No, he didn’t! He’s here,” said Kahin excitedly. She grabbed the unconscious animal and held him up for the young King to see.
“Caddy!” Redrought boomed in delight, and with a sudden convulsive twist the cat woke up, leapt from Kahin’s arms and onto the bed. Immediately he opened his mouth and yowled for the pure joy of living, and Redrought threw back his head and laughed.
Kahin found herself looking at the ceiling to see if the plaster had been cracked by the explosion of sound, but she couldn’t see anything through the tears that had inexplicably welled up again. His recovery was amazing. He’d beenunconscious for days, and yet here he was laughing and talking as though nothing had happened.
“We did for ’em, Caddy! Me and you, we did for ’em!”
“There might have been a few others involved,” Kahin pointed out tartly, as she recovered from the shock of Redrought’s lightning recuperation. “Like an entire army.”
“Yes,” Redrought agreed. “They did well. They’re a proper fighting force now. Something to be reckoned with. Anyway,” he suddenly said, changing the subject, “what’s wrong with your eyes?”
“Nothing. I think I’m allergic to the cat.”
“Rubbish! Nobody could be allergic to Caddy . . . apart from werewolves and Vampires, that is.”
Kahin patted his arm, and even managed to tickle the top of Cadwalader’s head. “I’ll go and find one of the witches. They’ve probably got some vile medicine to give you.”
“Oh, great!” replied Redrought grumpily. Then he brightened up slightly. “I don’t suppose you could find me a beer, and some fish for the hero cat who sank his teeth into the werewolf King?”
Kahin said she’d do her best and left the warrior monarch of the Icemark informing his cat he was a “big thmelly fluffy puthy cat” while he tickled his tummy.
As she left the room, Grimswald burst in, his face alight with relief and joy. She closed the door on his reunion with the young boy and tried to tell herself that of course she wasn’t jealous of his closeness to Redrought. She was just glad that everything seemed to be all right at last.
Later that day, Kahin returned to the King’s room to find Wenlock Witchmother and another woman talking to him.Judging by her shabby
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