quit just yet.”
Tern sighed, she had heard that one before. Prudently I offered, “I’ll cut down. I really mean to. Really.” Tern heard the strain in my voice and relented. The last overdose when I Shifted had truly frightened me, and I was taking less cat because I didn’t want to risk accidentally tripping to Epsilon. The Worm-Girl’s warning still haunted me—never come back to the Aureate. I didn’t want to think about it any longer. Dwelling on the problem made me want more cat, and I was feeling shaky enough as it was.
“Please do, darling. You’re skin and bone—” She would have continued but I threw myself on the divan, on top of her, and started trying to fit kisses down the front of her dress. She yelped, giggled. “Leave me alone! Mmm…Ow!” I bit her shoulder.
“Come to bed.”
“Mmm. OK. No—there’s a note for you.”
I stared at her. More work? “From whom?”
Tern gestured toward a square of yellow card on the mantelpiece. “The Archer,” she said.
I tried to stand but Tern wrapped her legs around my waist, a rather neat trick. I poked her belly with the parasol until she freed me. “Lightning can wait,” she said sulkily.
“Well, if he wants me I should go,” I replied. She tutted. I read Lightning’s fastidious copperplate: “Come and see me as soon as you can. Your reinforcements arrived last night: Governor Swallow Awndyn with her retinue, bound for Lowespass. Owing to Staniel’s misfortune she decided to divert to the Castle, for which I am grateful.” I flipped the card over. “Although I fully intend to wring your neck for calling Swallow to the Front. LSM.”
Tern regarded me quizzically. “You’re in trouble.” She had an expression of looking at me over the tops of her spectacles, although she never wears glasses.
“Do I care?” I began to lick her legs hungrily, my mouth full of dress hem. Tern stroked my feathers rhythmically, driving me mad with lust. “Will you do that thing with your legs again?”
“Like this? Why?”
“Because then I can do this .” Tern gasped. Even her yelps were like helpings of cream gâteaux.
T ern tugged at my wing, which extended until she rolled off the bed. I pulled the strong muscles back with a snap.
“Come on, come on. You have to go!”
“Only mortals hurry. Give me another kiss.”
“He’s waiting for you!”
“Yes, love. No, wait…”
“Ready?”
“Wait a minute. I’m missing something here. What did Lightning mean ‘Staniel’s misfortune’? What the fuck is he talking about? What day is it anyway?”
“Friday.”
“Can’t be. It was Friday when I last went to court…Oh, shit. Not an entire week.”
Tern sighed. She had definite opinions about drug binges that lasted a whole week. She rooted around on the untidy floor for a folded newspaper and passed it to me:
The Wrought Standard is pleased to amend previous reports by bringing you the news that His Majesty King Staniel has reached Rachiswater Palace alive and well after yesterday’s disaster. He has not been harmed and has just issued a statement praizing his bodyguard (printed in full, page two) who remained with him dutifully during the fast ride back although seven-eighths of the column behind them was killed. A survivor said, “We came upon the vanguard of our own host cut to pieces and returned with haste, so as to ensure the safety of His Majesty.”
The death toll reached five hundred when Insects beset Staniel’s column of soldiers peaceably bringing the body of the previous King home. Insects outnumbering our troops two to one attacked at night while the soldiers were unarmored on the march and unprepared for such an onslaught. Their bodies have not been found and the casket containing Dunlin’s remains has not been recovered, as Staniel has pronounced it is too dangerous to venture back into the area. He is, however, mindful of the opprobrium that this accident and loss has brought upon his family.
Many
Tern sighed, she had heard that one before. Prudently I offered, “I’ll cut down. I really mean to. Really.” Tern heard the strain in my voice and relented. The last overdose when I Shifted had truly frightened me, and I was taking less cat because I didn’t want to risk accidentally tripping to Epsilon. The Worm-Girl’s warning still haunted me—never come back to the Aureate. I didn’t want to think about it any longer. Dwelling on the problem made me want more cat, and I was feeling shaky enough as it was.
“Please do, darling. You’re skin and bone—” She would have continued but I threw myself on the divan, on top of her, and started trying to fit kisses down the front of her dress. She yelped, giggled. “Leave me alone! Mmm…Ow!” I bit her shoulder.
“Come to bed.”
“Mmm. OK. No—there’s a note for you.”
I stared at her. More work? “From whom?”
Tern gestured toward a square of yellow card on the mantelpiece. “The Archer,” she said.
I tried to stand but Tern wrapped her legs around my waist, a rather neat trick. I poked her belly with the parasol until she freed me. “Lightning can wait,” she said sulkily.
“Well, if he wants me I should go,” I replied. She tutted. I read Lightning’s fastidious copperplate: “Come and see me as soon as you can. Your reinforcements arrived last night: Governor Swallow Awndyn with her retinue, bound for Lowespass. Owing to Staniel’s misfortune she decided to divert to the Castle, for which I am grateful.” I flipped the card over. “Although I fully intend to wring your neck for calling Swallow to the Front. LSM.”
Tern regarded me quizzically. “You’re in trouble.” She had an expression of looking at me over the tops of her spectacles, although she never wears glasses.
“Do I care?” I began to lick her legs hungrily, my mouth full of dress hem. Tern stroked my feathers rhythmically, driving me mad with lust. “Will you do that thing with your legs again?”
“Like this? Why?”
“Because then I can do this .” Tern gasped. Even her yelps were like helpings of cream gâteaux.
T ern tugged at my wing, which extended until she rolled off the bed. I pulled the strong muscles back with a snap.
“Come on, come on. You have to go!”
“Only mortals hurry. Give me another kiss.”
“He’s waiting for you!”
“Yes, love. No, wait…”
“Ready?”
“Wait a minute. I’m missing something here. What did Lightning mean ‘Staniel’s misfortune’? What the fuck is he talking about? What day is it anyway?”
“Friday.”
“Can’t be. It was Friday when I last went to court…Oh, shit. Not an entire week.”
Tern sighed. She had definite opinions about drug binges that lasted a whole week. She rooted around on the untidy floor for a folded newspaper and passed it to me:
The Wrought Standard is pleased to amend previous reports by bringing you the news that His Majesty King Staniel has reached Rachiswater Palace alive and well after yesterday’s disaster. He has not been harmed and has just issued a statement praizing his bodyguard (printed in full, page two) who remained with him dutifully during the fast ride back although seven-eighths of the column behind them was killed. A survivor said, “We came upon the vanguard of our own host cut to pieces and returned with haste, so as to ensure the safety of His Majesty.”
The death toll reached five hundred when Insects beset Staniel’s column of soldiers peaceably bringing the body of the previous King home. Insects outnumbering our troops two to one attacked at night while the soldiers were unarmored on the march and unprepared for such an onslaught. Their bodies have not been found and the casket containing Dunlin’s remains has not been recovered, as Staniel has pronounced it is too dangerous to venture back into the area. He is, however, mindful of the opprobrium that this accident and loss has brought upon his family.
Many
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