at least half of the villagers were involved as well.
“Very well,” King Henrik said. “I wish you and this Lady Gabrielle of yours nothing but good will on your journey—although I will be frank. If you seek to make your fortune by means of being a hero, you will be disappointed. My foster-daughter, Fürstin Elise, will never open the country’s coffers to pay your mistress when Steffen can tell Rune to do the same task for free.”
“My Lady seeks no payment for her services. She only wishes to establish a link of good will with the royal family,” the cat said, his voice throbbing with a throaty purr.
King Henrik nodded, carefully reviewing his words after noticing the cat’s pleasure.
“I must confess, I am most impressed with you, King Henrik,” the cat continued. “It is not often I meet a man so refined and learned.”
A ghost of a smile tugged at one corner of King Henrik’s lips. “You mean to say it isn’t often you find a man so accepting of your ability to speak intelligently?”
“Perhaps,” the cat said, his tail twitching back and forth. “If you do not mind my inquiries, what brought you to be able to accept talking, magical cats?”
King Henrik sighed—a motion that seemed to take more than just air out of him. “My deceased wife, Queen Ingrid, was an enchantress.”
“Of this I am aware. Also, please allow me to extend my condolences on my behalf, as well as behalf of the enchanters and enchantresses of the Veneno Conclave. Lady Enchantress Ingrid was talented and well-loved,” the cat said.
“You met her, then?”
“I saw her in passing, but I never conversed with her,” the cat said. “I worked with an enchanter and his pupil who were particularly reclusive as far as interacting with the Conclave goes.”
“Tell me, sir cat.”
“Please, call me Roland.”
“Then tell me, Roland. As you are obviously an enchanted cat, do you have a prolonged life—like that of the enchanters and enchantresses?” King Henrik asked.
“Yes.”
King Henrik leaned back in his chair and stared unseeingly at the ceiling. “I was prepared for that. When I fell in love with Ingrid and married her, I knew she would stay young and beautiful, and I would grow old and die—likely a century would pass before she would join me. Then Ingrid told me she knew she would die young. I thought she might pass away but a decade after me. I never imagined she would be the first to leave.” His voice was heavy with loss and pain.
The king and the cat were silent with only the crackling fire and the muted shouts and rolls of thunder from outside flavoring the air. “Although I did not personally know the Lady Enchantress Ingrid, I can assure you, Your Majesty, that she would not have left you if she had a choice,” the cat finally said. “Those of magic do not love lightly.”
“She gave up everything for me, and it killed her,” King Henrik said.
“No,” the cat said with surprising firmness. “She gave up being an enchantress. You gave everything to her—seven sons and a foster daughter. Do you think Lady Enchantress Ingrid would have given them up for mere magic?”
King Henrik straightened in his chair and shook his head. “No, no. Of course not. She loved our family, and she was truly happy.” He didn’t know why he was telling all of this to a cat . Perhaps it was because the cat understood magic, and magic society, which meant he also understood Ingrid.
“And you, Your Majesty?”
“Hmm?”
“Would you give up your children?” the cat asked. His implication hung in the air, unspoken but powerful. Would you abandon your children and rejoin Ingrid in death soon if you could?
King Henrik didn’t reply.
“It seems things have quieted down.” The cat turned his unnerving, bronze-colored eyes from King Henrik to the door. “I must extend my greatest wishes of luck to you and your offspring and search out my mistress. Thank you for the conversation, Your Majesty. I hope
“Very well,” King Henrik said. “I wish you and this Lady Gabrielle of yours nothing but good will on your journey—although I will be frank. If you seek to make your fortune by means of being a hero, you will be disappointed. My foster-daughter, Fürstin Elise, will never open the country’s coffers to pay your mistress when Steffen can tell Rune to do the same task for free.”
“My Lady seeks no payment for her services. She only wishes to establish a link of good will with the royal family,” the cat said, his voice throbbing with a throaty purr.
King Henrik nodded, carefully reviewing his words after noticing the cat’s pleasure.
“I must confess, I am most impressed with you, King Henrik,” the cat continued. “It is not often I meet a man so refined and learned.”
A ghost of a smile tugged at one corner of King Henrik’s lips. “You mean to say it isn’t often you find a man so accepting of your ability to speak intelligently?”
“Perhaps,” the cat said, his tail twitching back and forth. “If you do not mind my inquiries, what brought you to be able to accept talking, magical cats?”
King Henrik sighed—a motion that seemed to take more than just air out of him. “My deceased wife, Queen Ingrid, was an enchantress.”
“Of this I am aware. Also, please allow me to extend my condolences on my behalf, as well as behalf of the enchanters and enchantresses of the Veneno Conclave. Lady Enchantress Ingrid was talented and well-loved,” the cat said.
“You met her, then?”
“I saw her in passing, but I never conversed with her,” the cat said. “I worked with an enchanter and his pupil who were particularly reclusive as far as interacting with the Conclave goes.”
“Tell me, sir cat.”
“Please, call me Roland.”
“Then tell me, Roland. As you are obviously an enchanted cat, do you have a prolonged life—like that of the enchanters and enchantresses?” King Henrik asked.
“Yes.”
King Henrik leaned back in his chair and stared unseeingly at the ceiling. “I was prepared for that. When I fell in love with Ingrid and married her, I knew she would stay young and beautiful, and I would grow old and die—likely a century would pass before she would join me. Then Ingrid told me she knew she would die young. I thought she might pass away but a decade after me. I never imagined she would be the first to leave.” His voice was heavy with loss and pain.
The king and the cat were silent with only the crackling fire and the muted shouts and rolls of thunder from outside flavoring the air. “Although I did not personally know the Lady Enchantress Ingrid, I can assure you, Your Majesty, that she would not have left you if she had a choice,” the cat finally said. “Those of magic do not love lightly.”
“She gave up everything for me, and it killed her,” King Henrik said.
“No,” the cat said with surprising firmness. “She gave up being an enchantress. You gave everything to her—seven sons and a foster daughter. Do you think Lady Enchantress Ingrid would have given them up for mere magic?”
King Henrik straightened in his chair and shook his head. “No, no. Of course not. She loved our family, and she was truly happy.” He didn’t know why he was telling all of this to a cat . Perhaps it was because the cat understood magic, and magic society, which meant he also understood Ingrid.
“And you, Your Majesty?”
“Hmm?”
“Would you give up your children?” the cat asked. His implication hung in the air, unspoken but powerful. Would you abandon your children and rejoin Ingrid in death soon if you could?
King Henrik didn’t reply.
“It seems things have quieted down.” The cat turned his unnerving, bronze-colored eyes from King Henrik to the door. “I must extend my greatest wishes of luck to you and your offspring and search out my mistress. Thank you for the conversation, Your Majesty. I hope
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