“I’ve found a way for Etta to escape,” Puss says the moment Etta closes the door.
A heaviness settles in my stomach at his words, and I step back and sink into the chair behind me. “How?”
My mind wanders as he explains. It seems I have a choice. I can leave as well, go back to my life, leave the ogre be.
Or I can stay, find a way to honor the promise I made to my father on his deathbed.
“Etta’s in danger here,” Puss says finally. “The ogre is enchanted with her now. What will he do when that changes? What if one of these days he realizes that hurting her would be a new form of torture for you?”
I sink my head into my hands, wanting to argue, but there are no words. As usual, Puss is right.
“Once she’s safe, I’ll come back,” Puss finishes.
The cat’s promise startles me from my thoughts. “Why would you do that?”
He narrows his eyes. “Because I believe I know how to defeat the ogre. But it’s dangerous, and I won’t attempt it if she’s here. Send Etta away. If you truly love her, you’ll make the hard decision.”
“All right,” I finally say, hating myself.
But no matter what comes to pass, I want Etta free and safe. The thought keeping her trapped here when I have the power to help her escape—I can’t do it. I can’t keep her here selfishly, not just because she’s the only thing making this life bearable.
I pause outside Etta’s door, preparing myself for this confrontation. After several moments, I knock.
“Who is it?” Etta calls after several moments, sounding half asleep.
She opens the door only moments after I call to her. Immediately, she knows something is wrong. Her sleepy smile fades when she takes in my grim expression.
“What is it?” she asks, her voice low.
I look away and swallow. “You need to go with Puss.”
“He told you.” Her voice is low and accusing.
She takes a step back as if I struck her, and my gut twists. I angle my head, avoiding her eyes.
“No,” she finally says.
I look back. “Etta, this place is dangerous. You’re not safe here.”
Etta turns and stalks across the room. “I’m not leaving.”
Shutting the door behind me, wincing when the wood closes with a loud thud in the quiet hours of night, I follow her. “You don’t have a choice. I won’t keep you here—not when you can be free.”
Crossing her arms, she shakes her head. “It’s not your decision to make.”
I want to reach out for her, want to run away with her and be done with this place. But I can’t do that, not when I gave my father my word. I know her too well now; there’s only one reason she’ll leave. Though I might as well stab her in the heart. Heaven knows I’ll be doing it to myself as well.
“You should go back to Kerrick,” I say, looking at the canopy above her bed. I hear my voice, hear how cold it sounds.
She’s silent for so long, I have to look back at her. She stands still, a disbelieving look in her eyes.
“Even if I somehow find a way to vanquish the ogre…we wouldn’t work,” I say. “You have a life here. I have a life at sea.”
“I know what you’re doing.”
I finally meet her eyes, pin her with my gaze. “Then let me do it.” I close the distance between us and grasp her shoulders. “You said you wanted the poisoned apple? Skip that step and let me save you.”
Looking slightly bitter, she shakes her head. “What’s the point if you’re still here?”
After taking a deep breath, I run my fingers through her hair. “Go to your prince, Etta. That was your story before I interfered. You were supposed to be with him.”
“How could you possibly know that?”
I attempt a smile, but I’m afraid it’s grim. “That’s the way these things work.”
“But I want you.”
Her words cut me to my core, and I close my eyes. This being noble bit can go to oblivion.
“And I love you, Etta. I do. So much, I’d rather rip out my heart and send you away with it than keep you here.”
As I stand here, listening to the agony in Beau’s voice, feeling my heart shatter in my chest, I realize what I have to do.
I will save Beau, help him keep his promise to his father—even if it means forfeiting my own life, living the rest of my days in the bottom of the king’s dungeons.
And I will have to leave to do it.
Beau’s still speaking, telling me why he has no choice but to send me away.
Leaning forward to cut him off, I press my lips against his and murmur, “I’ll go.”
Obviously surprised, he pauses and threads his hands through my hair. Disbelief and concern shows in his eyes. “You will?”
I nod and slide my hands up his chest. “But I don’t want to speak of it now.”
He closes his eyes and rests his forehead against mine, wrapping his arms around my back, holding me secure. I return his embrace, locking him close, knowing our time is short.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“This will never work, Puss,” I say, peering out the gate that leads to the forest. “It’s too simple.”
It’s early dawn, and the sun hasn’t yet crested the horizon. We haven’t tried to leave again, not since the ogre first trapped us here, and we certainly can’t try to walk out over the drawbridge.
I hold a satchel of hard cheese, bread, and dried fruits in my hand. Somehow, the uncanny kitchen brownie knew what we were plotting.
“Sometimes the most effective solutions are the simplest,” Puss says, undeterred by my doubt.
Turning to Beau, I twist the satchel in my hands. “What will Ettiene do to you when he finds me gone?”
Beau shrugs. “It doesn’t matter what the ogre will do.”
“It does matter.” Worry continues to build, and now it’s near suffocating. “Come with me. There’s no reason for you to stay.”
As I knew he would, he shakes his head. “This is something I have to do.”
Nodding, I kiss him one last time. “I’ll miss you.”
“As soon as I defeat the ogre,” Beau promises. “I will find you.”
Unless I find him first.
Beau slides the stolen key into the lock and swings the gate open. The forest waits, calm and quiet, the snow undisturbed.
With one last long glance, I scoop Puss into my arms. Ready to meet the barrier, I step through the gate…and pass through.
“That’s ridiculous,” I scoff, irritated that it was so simple.
As Puss predicted, his resistance enveloped me simply because I was holding him.
Curious if I will be blocked from this side, I drop the cat and stretch my hand out for Beau. My fingers hit an invisible barrier, and I let my hand drift down to my side.
“This isn’t goodbye,” I insist.
Beau nods, but his eyes betray him. He’s not sure.
“I’m leaving you now,” Puss says. “You’ll be fine from here.”
The cottages of Glenridge are in the distance, welcoming me home. I found a farmer to give me a ride most of the way, but we’ve trudged the last few miles through the snow. My hands are frozen, and my feet are numb.
I glance at the cat. “Where are you going?”
“Back to the Carabas estate.”
Leaning down, I scoop up Puss. His fur is dusted with snow, and his tiny paws are frigid. “What are you plotting?”
“I’m going to slay the ogre.”
“You are?”
He twists his body, looking up at me with disdain. “You don’t have to look so doubtful.”
“I’m going to the king,” I tell him. “I’m going to tell him everything. He’ll send help.”
Puss hisses and leaps from my arms. “You’ll do no such thing—not yet.”
“I’ve already decided, Puss.”
“Give me time,” he says. “If we’re not back by the end of the second week in spring, then you may speak
with His Majesty.”
Sighing, I turn toward the snow-covered boughs of the nearby forest. Though it’s still cold, water drips from the icicles clinging to the limbs, making tiny tunnels in the snow at the base of the trees. Spring is not so very far off.
“All right,” I agree. “But if you haven’t returned…”
He nods, and then, without any further goodbyes, runs back the way we came. I watch him go, waiting until his furry figure disappears over a hill. After he’s gone, I continue on through the town, heading toward the mill.
If I thought I received odd looks when I first donned my hunting outfit, it’s nothing like the attention my gown is getting after my season-long absence.
I wave to the tailor’s wife, and she stares at me with wide eyes.
“Etta!” she says, so stunned that she comes to a complete stop halfway in the street. “We thought…”
Judging from how pale she’s gone, they must have thought the worst. Her eyes travel down my gown, and her jaw goes slack.
“I’m fine,” I assure her, “but I have to see my brothers.”
Her face softens. “Thomas is away.”
“Is he still in Rynvale?”
She purses her lips. “No, Etta. He’s gone to the coast to sell his figurines to merchants.”
Her news takes me by surprise. I never thought Thomas would leave, never imagined him truly gone.
“And Eugene?”
“He and Sarah-Anne wed a month ago.”
My brother married while I was away. My throat tightens. What else has changed while I’ve been imprisoned in the Carabas estate?
I say my goodbyes and hurry down the ice-covered lane to the mill. Smoke rises from the chimney, and a newly built barn stands behind the mill. For the first time in years, black and white cows stand in the pasture.
The buildings look better as well.
Suddenly and inexplicably nervous, I stand on the threshold and knock.
After several moments, Sarah-Anne opens the door. Her eyes go wide when she finds me shivering on the step. Eugene appears behind her, and he narrows his eyes, shocked. It isn’t until an icicle drips a very cold drop of water down my neck that the two find their voices and usher me inside.
“What happened to you?” Eugene demands. “Where have you been?”
“Did you run away with that chocolatier?” Sarah-Anne asks, recovering quickly. “That’s what everyone’s said. It’s been quite the scandal. You and Beau disappeared together, and now…” She motions her hand toward my gown.
I sit at the familiar, worn table and tell them my story, minus the part Puss played in it. It’s not easy to leave the cat out of the tale, but I manage well enough.
At the end, the two stare at me like they don’t quite believe it.
“If you’ll let me stay the night,” I say, “tomorrow I’ll go to Rynvale and speak with Kerrick.”
Sarah-Anne rests her chin on her hand. “Prince Kerrick.”
I nod.
“And Beau is still there, in his family’s home, imprisoned by an ogre?” Eugene asks, incredulous.
“For now.”
“You are more than welcome here,” Sarah-Anne says. “We haven’t touched the loft.”
“Thank you,” I say, setting my hand on hers to show how grateful I am. “But only for the night.”
This isn’t my home anymore.
“The mill looks better,” I say.
Eugene and Sarah-Anne exchange a look.
“What is it?”
Uncomfortable, Eugene looks at the table. “Not long after you disappeared with Beau, right after we bought the cows, Broussard demanded half the proceeds from this year’s harvest.”
“We thought he was going to wait until next year to collect,” Sarah-Anne adds. “But he has the deed, so there was little we could do.”
My heart aches for my brother, but I did warn them. Though it still feels as if this is my fault. If I’d married Broussard…but no. I couldn’t bear to chain myself to a man who loves money as much as he does.
“We’re doing well enough,” Eugene assures me, but I’m not certain he’s being altogether truthful.
After we speak for several more hours, I climb the ladder. At the top, I stare at the faded, patched quilt that covers my pallet. My night shift is folded on the table where I left it months ago, but it’s dusty from sitting for so long. I run my hand over the threadbare fabric, remembering what my life was like until recently. So much has changed.
Missing Beau so much my heart aches, I blow out the candle.
“Tell me how she escaped!” The ogre paces back and forth, livid.
I hang from the dungeon walls, my wrists chained. It took two men and three dwarves to capture me. For that, I’m proud. My face throbs from where the monster punched me, and it’s swollen so badly, I can’t see out of my right eye.
Despite the pain I’m in, my only thoughts remain on Etta and how glad I am she’s gone.
The ogre turns back, his beady eyes narrowed in anger. “Tell me now, and I may show mercy on her—because I will find her, Carabas. I’ll send men out all through this kingdom and the next, looking for her. And when I do bring her back, you and she will both wish she were dead.”
An involuntary chill passes through me. Please let her have gone back to the king, let her be safe in the palace.
I wait in line behind a tall, lean pig farmer who quarrels with a short, stout sheep farmer. I had assumed, with it being the middle of winter, that there would be fewer people seeking an audience with the king. I was wrong.
Behind me, a woman holds a crying baby. The newborn’s mewling cries sound like the yowls of a cat, and several times I almost turn around to make sure it is, in fact, a child. When I do glance back, I find the woman isn’t much older than I am. She wears a desperate, world-weary sort of look. She meets my eyes and gives me a tired, apologetic sort of smile as she rubs the baby’s back.
I return it and turn back toward the front, listening to the two farmers argue over the price of bacon versus wool. Apparently, according to the sheep farmer, he has been cheated out of two copper coins.
We near the front, and the baby cries again, hiccupping now that it’s so upset. The noise fades to the background, because there, in front of me, Kerrick stands with his father.
He looks as handsome as I remember, his hair slightly darker now in the winter months. After having been through this all morning, he seems restless.
As I watch him, I grow nervous. For one small moment, I wonder if he’s forgotten about me. Could such a thing happen in one short season?
“Go ahead,” I say, motioning the woman forward, not wanting to speak with the king and his son over the baby’s desperate cries. Besides, the woman’s situation is apparently more urgent than mine.
After King Deloge sorts out the bacon/wool situation, the woman goes forward, bowing low with the baby in her arms. Over the child’s cries, she quickly explains that her husband passed away in the autumn and she’s seeking employment. The king waves a steward over, instructing them to take the woman to the kitchens for food for her and milk for the child, and then find her a suitable position.
The woman falls to her knees, tears streaming down her face as she thanks His Majesty, and both the king and Kerrick watch as she hurries after the guard.
Another steward, this one recognizing me, ushers me forward.
“You shouldn’t have waited, my lady,” he says, appalled that I’d stand here with the commoners.
As one, the king and Kerrick turn their attention toward me, expecting another struggling peasant, no doubt. Even as the king’s face breaks into a wide smile, Kerrick goes very still.
I hold up a bag, not the one I lost that autumn day by the stream, but another from the tailor, and bow low. “I have brought you a gift, Your Majesty.”
“Suzette!” the king exclaims, rising from his throne and coming toward me. “What a pleasure it is to see you, my dear.” He takes my offered bag. As he h
ands it off to the steward who’s still at my side, he peers inside. “Snow rabbits! You are a clever huntress. And here I thought it was your men trapping the animals for you.”
“No, Sire,” I say, unable to hide my smile.
Once free of the bag, the king clutches my hands in his own. “My huntsman has just informed me there is to be a blizzard coming in from the north. I must insist you stay with us.”
Before I answer, I glance at Kerrick. He looks pensive, uneasy. Not for me, as before, but rather of me. Unsure how to read his expression, I turn back to the king. “I am grateful for your hospitality.”
“Where is your man?” the king asks, and I can only assume he’s speaking of Beau.
For a moment, I debate telling him with the hopes that he will forgive my deception long enough to gather his great armies and lay siege on the ogre. Just when the words are on the tip of my tongue, I remember my promise to Puss.
“Tending to Carabas affairs,” I say instead.
The king nods and waves his son forward. “Kerrick, won’t you show the marquise to her room? I’m sure she’s exhausted after her long journey.”
“And hunting trip,” Kerrick adds. For the first time, he lets a small smile slip through.
I return the smile, relieved. Glancing around, I ask, “How is Sabine?”
Kerrick’s smile dims. “Well. Yes—she’s well. And home, temporarily.” Then clearing his throat, he offers his arm. “Shall we?”
He escorts me from the throne room. When we are away and quite alone, he releases me. His eyes take in my gown, the same I traveled home in yesterday, and he frowns in a quizzical sort of way. “Did you take care of whatever it was Beau needed your help with?”
I shake my head. “No. He is still there, tending to it just as I told your father.”
His bright eyes take me in. “I was beginning to think I dreamt you up. You walked into my life so suddenly, and then you left the same way.”
I wait for my heart to stir, wonder if butterflies will take wing. But my heart and my stomach stay still. The only thing I feel when I look at him is a warm affection very similar in nature to how I feel about Eugene or Thomas. I don’t love Kerrick. I suspect I never did, not in a lasting, real sort of way.
Puss without Boots: A Puss in Boots Retelling (Fairy Tale Kingdoms Book 1) Page 16