Puss in Boots (Timeless Fairy Tales Book 6)

by K. M. Shea

  “I’m fine; it’s Puss,” Gabrielle said, unbuckling the saddlebag from her waist.

  “The Master Cat is injured?” the woodcutter asked. “It cannot be!” So much for calming the horse.

  “Not Puss in Boots!” a child yelled.

  Gabrielle’s shoulders slumped, and she cried as she lifted Puss’s unresponsive body from the pack. His eyes were still closed. He breathed, but it was raspy, and his chest moved too much.

  “What happened?” the dressmaker asked.

  “Never mind that—someone call Edna with her herbs,” Michi’s daughter said.

  “Excuse me, did you say a cat is injured?” asked a dazzling and musical voice.

  Gabrielle, with her tear-streaked, dirt-spattered face, glanced up and met the eyes of a young lady so beautiful, she eclipsed Gabrielle with the strength of the sun compared to the moon.

  She looked eighteen or twenty, and she wore a white layered dress with pink trim and a circlet of gold coins on the crown of her head. She extended a hand with genuine—not trained—elegance, and a small smile budded on her lips—increasing her beauty a thousand fold.

  Only a magic user could be so spectacularly beautiful. A strong magic user.

  “Please,” Gabrielle hiccupped. “Save my magic cat.”

  As Gabrielle held Puss out, the beautiful lady gasped. “Roland?” She cupped the cat’s head.

  “You know him?” Gabrielle asked.

  “Yes,” the lady said, the lines of her face growing stiff with determination as she took the limp cat from Gabrielle’s arms, gently probing and prodding his body. “What happened?”

  “He was flung into a wall by an ogre.”

  The beautiful lady made a hissing noise. “He has internal injuries—and some broken bones, I think.”

  “Will he make it?” Gabrielle asked.

  “Not if I don’t use healing magic on him.”

  “Then use it!” Gabrielle said. “Please, I’ll pay any price.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t,” the lady said.

  “But you must! Please, Lady Enchantress,” Michi’s daughter said. “We will offer you whatever price you desire. Master Puss has done so much!”

  “Not just for us, but for all the northern villages of Arcainia,” the woodcutter rumbled.

  “He’s routed bandits and killed man-eating snakes,” the dressmaker said.

  “And fought goblins and vanquished witches,” the cheese maker’s son shouted.

  “He and Lady Gabrielle got rid of the Lech river pirates.”

  “And they single-handedly stopped a fire from spreading to a hay barn in Muarg!”

  “Dear people,” the beautiful lady said, holding up a hand. “You misunderstood me. I am not unwilling, but as most kinds of magic are outlawed in Arcainia—healing magic among them—I am unable.”

  “The border—it isn’t far from here,” Gabrielle said, her heart pounding. Puss has to make it. He must!

  “Ride straight north, and you’ll find yourself at the foot of Mullberg’s Mountain Range,” the woodcutter said. “You’ll have to go through Carabas lands, though.”

  “Carabas is long from east to west. North to south it’s quite stubby; the lady can reach the border in under an hour on a swift horse,” the tanner said.

  “Please,” Gabrielle begged.

  The lady nodded. “Of course,” she said. She looked down at Roland—who lay in her arms—the way one looks at an old friend, before casting Gabrielle a look dusted with curiosity.

  “You can use my horse, Lady Enchantress,” the tanner said. “Gaffer is one of the fastest in the village.”

  The lady shook her head. “My coach will be faster.” She started for the beautiful carriage but paused at the door and spoke softly. “But not faster than his steed.” She lifted her gaze to the sky.

  Gabrielle saw a moment of fear and uncertainty color the lady’s beautiful eyes. “Please, Lady Enchantress,” she asked.

  “For Roland, I will dare to attempt it,” the enchantress said. She shifted Puss to one arm and thrust her hand into the sky. “Pegasus! It is I—Enchantress-in-Training Angelique, student of Lord Enchanter Evariste of Fire Gates. I summon you from the skies to carry me across the lands. Come!” she shouted.

  There was a boom—like a cosmic battle raged overhead. The lady stared up at the skies, her expression grim.

  “There—what’s that?” a villager shouted.

  A black body charged from the sky—a celestial equine that sported a mane and tail of dark blue flames. Its black body seemed insubstantial, like a night sky wrapped in a bundle. Its glorious black wings shone in the in the morning light. When the hooves of its forelegs touched the ground, a mighty thunder-crash—like lightning striking a tree—shook the ground. The ground shook, and the animal’s black wings exploded into a thousand black feathers that spiraled upwards. The steed—it was too foreign and menacing be called a horse—reared, uttering a glass-breaking shriek.

  “Where’s the saddlebag?” the lady—the enchantress-in-training—asked.

  “Here,” Gabrielle said, scrambling closer to give it to her, even as the villagers backed away in fright and fear.

  “Thank you,” the lady said. She slid Puss into the pack and approached the animal.

  The steed struck the ground with its front right leg—eliciting another thunder-crack.

  “I know I’m not Master Enchanter Evariste,” the enchantress said, her voice grim. “But I’m desperate enough that I’ll try to make you yield as you do for him. Now will you test me, or shall we fly?”

  The ethereal animal lunged at the enchantress. She thrust up an arm and made a backhanding motion—shouting something in the language of magic.

  The horse whuffed and danced backwards. It flicked its fiery tail and jutted its head towards the enchantress, who showed him the pack. “It’s for Roland.”

  The celestial equine snorted—its nostrils flaring red—and looked away. After a moment, it hefted the front of its large body down, making it easy for the enchantress to clamber on.

  “I will find you again when this is over,” she said to Gabrielle.

  “Thank you,” Gabrielle whispered. She saw fear in the lady’s eyes—whether it was fear of the beast she was riding, or fear for Puss’s life, she didn’t know.

  Like a comet, the horse took off, bolting from the village in a flare of light. Gabrielle watched it fade and fell to her knees, exhausted and defeated. In her peripheral vision, she saw the door of The Turtle & Doves open.

  “Gabrielle?” Steffen said, his boots crunching on tiny pebbles as he approached her. He placed a hand on her shoulder, and she turned to look at him.

  The prince had a bandage wrapped around his head—ruining his perfect hair. He was favoring one of his legs, and someone must have swiped all his weapons, for he wore none. Obviously, since parting with him, someone had attacked the prince. A sob churned in Gabrielle’s chest. “Y-you’re hurt,” she stammered.

  Steffen offered her a wan smile and tried to brush some of the dirt off her cheek. “I’ll survive.”

  His pronouncement made it hard to breathe. “I don’t know if Puss will,” she said as she started crying. Her tears were a steady trickle, and although breathing was difficult, not a single sound escaped Gabrielle. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself.

  With a bit of maneuvering, Steffen hunkered down next to her. Prince or not—believer in love or not—when Steffen slid his arms around Gabrielle, she leaned into him and cried silently, her shoulders shaking from the force of her feelings.

  “After Puss was hit, I fled. We had an escape plan and a horse picketed outside the castle, just in case. I rode it back to Jagst,” Gabrielle said, nudging the mug of hot cider Dano had given her a few minutes ago.

  “Where you ran into an enchantress who took your magic cat north so she could cross into Mullberg and heal him,” Rune—Steffen’s handsome younger brother, who was roughly her age—said.

  Gabrielle nodde
d and remembered the way the lady enchantress looked at Puss. My life was boring, maybe even meaningless before Puss and I set out together. I thought it was the same for him, but…that enchantress knew him. They were friends…

  The younger prince nodded, folding his arms across his armored chest. “You did as well as you could,” he said.

  “Thank you,” Gabrielle said, studying her drink. It still wasn’t good enough.

  “You willingly went to confront the ogre of Carabas?” Steffen said.

  “It has been Puss’s plan to do so since I first met him in Ilz,” Gabrielle said, finding it hard to swallow her spit. She sipped her drink, but the rich apple flavor tasted sour and flat.

  “That doesn’t mean you had to follow his lead,” Steffen said.

  King Henrik cleared his throat and shook his head.

  “You—” Steffen stopped talking when Gabrielle looked across the table at him. He sighed and leaned forward so he could brush a lock of her hair out of her face. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  Gabrielle shrugged.

  “What will you do, Lady Gabrielle?” King Henrik asked, his voice painfully kind.

  “Ride north, I suppose, after Puss and the Lady Enchantress,” Gabrielle said.

  “You’ll spend the night here, dearie,” Michi said, placing a basket of plum-stuffed rolls on the table—she knew they were Gabrielle’s favorite. “No arguing. You need your rest. You can chase after that enchantress tomorrow morning. If you had a lick of sense, you would wait it out, but I don’t suppose anything could separate you and that cat,” Michi said, shuffling across the room to reclaim her newest knitting project—a bright blue scarf.

  The orange stray cat that had taken up residence in The Turtle & Doves leapt onto the bench beside Gabrielle and rubbed against her. The little cat purred so deeply, its entire body shivered. She picked up the smaller cat and placed it on her lap, drawing comfort from the familiar feeling.

  “The Lady Enchantress said he would make it if she used her healing magic on him,” she said.

  “Oh, aye,” Dano nodded. “So you may as well stay here. Soon Master Puss in Boots will be strolling in through the doors of our fine establishment—scolding you for your tears,” he said, cracking a wide grin.

  Gabrielle rested her hand on the orange cat. “What will you do, Your Majesty?” She turned her body in King Henrik’s direction.

  “I suspect it would be for the best if Steffen and I postpone the rest of our inspection,” King Henrik said.

  “I can stay here, in case the ogre decides to retaliate—although you should take Elise back to Castle Brandis with you,” Rune said.

  “Yes, we will,” King Henrik said, his fine brows lowering over his eyes as he studied his son—who smiled sheepishly.

  Gabrielle hadn’t yet met Princess Elise—the girl was inspecting the village. Rune had mentioned something about estimated taxes, but she didn’t understand what that had to do with seeing the village.

  “Will we return to Brandis so we can muster troops?” Steffen asked.

  “I don’t know,” King Henrik said. “We will have to call together your siblings. All of them—including you, Rune.”

  “We’ll have to call Erick in from the college,” Steffen said. “It might take him a few days to extricate himself—he’s always buried in meetings and is busy trying to drum up funding.”

  “Gerhart is south, visiting with nobles. Do we need him as well?” Rune asked.

  “Yes. War is not a decision to be made without input from all of you. All of the royal children will be asked to weigh in on our options,” King Henrik said.

  Even in the middle of the day’s nightmarish events, King Henrik’s words brought a light of encouragement to Gabrielle. Arcainia’s royal family had always been strange compared to most royalty on the continent, but since the eight royal children had grown and were slowly slipping into positions of power in the government, the dissimilarity had grown. Still, most Arcainians were proud of the hard-working royal family.

  “It will take time to gather Gerhart and Erick. You may as well linger in Jagst for a few days, Rune,” Steffen said, tapping the tabletop with his fingers.

  “You’re concerned the ogre will retaliate after all?”

  “No,” Steffen said.

  “Then why must I stay behind?” Rune asked.

  “Because I said so,” Steffen said.

  Rune frowned, his handsome features turning dark with a glowering anger. “I won’t do anything to Elise. She’ll ride in the carriage with Father—you can ride your horse.”

  “It’s not about Elise.”

  “Is it the goblins?”

  “No.”

  “Then why do I have to stay?” Rune asked, standing at the head of the table.

  “We’ll talk later,” Steffen said, scowling at his younger brother.

  “Why can’t we talk now?”

  Steffen reached up and grabbed Rune by the edge of his chest plate so he could wrench him down to his level. “Darling little brother,” Steffen said, his teeth clenched. “Do not worry your pretty head. There are many forces at work that you don’t understand. I wish for you to remain behind because I trust your strength and fighting abilities.”

  Rune blinked before he anchored his eyes on Gabrielle. His confusion was swept away as another dashing smile spread across his lips. “Oh,” he said, the word weighted.

  Gabrielle looked to King Henrik, but the fatherly man shook his head.

  “You are such an idiot,” Steffen muttered, pushing his brother upright with a shove.

  “Maybe, but I’m a smooth idiot,” Rune said.

  “You are as smooth as a gravel lane,” Steffen said.

  King Henrik placed a hand on Rune’s shoulder. “That’s enough, boys.”

  “Father, we’re men now,” Rune said.

  “No, I’m a man. You’re a confused beanpole,” Steffen said.

  “Enough,” King Henrik said, eyeing his son. “Or I will ask Timo to sort you out, Steffen.”

  Steffen pressed his lips together and said nothing more.

  “Come, Rune. We should check on Elise,” King Henrik said, steering his son for the door.

  “As you wish,” Rune said, his voice bright. The father and son disappeared through the door.

  “Michi, we’ve got work in the back to complete,” Dano said, shuffling for the kitchens.

  Michi tisked her husband, but she folded up the scarf and shuffled after him. “Spoil sport,” she muttered, disappearing into the kitchen.

  The inn taproom was quiet as Gabrielle petted the orange cat and Steffen scratched the back of his neck.

  “He’s going to make it,” Steffen finally said. “That cat—Puss—will outlive us all.”

  “I hope so,” Gabrielle said, her mind recalling how Puss’s limp body felt in her grasp.

  “He wouldn’t leave you like this,” Steffen said.

  Gabrielle reached for her mug of apple cider. “Not willingly.”

  “Gabrielle, this isn’t like you,” Steffen said, capturing her free hand in his. His hand was warm, a bit of a shocking sensation to her ice-cold fingers.

  She swallowed awkwardly and raised her eyes to the prince’s face.

  “You’re the bravest person I know. Even Rune gets nervous before he faces a creature, but you are as tranquil as a summer breeze. You keep your head in the toughest of situations.”

  “Perhaps, but I can’t do anything for Puss now,” Gabrielle said. “Every time you’ve seen me—the candy cottage witch, the goblins, the bandits—I’ve been able to do something. This inaction makes me feel…helpless.”

  “That doesn’t change what you did do for him,” Steffen said, brushing the top of her hand with his thumb. “If it had been anyone else in that castle with Puss, neither of them would have gotten out. Not only did you escape, but you delivered him to an enchantress who can save him.”

  “It was sheer luck,” Gabrielle said, rolling her shoulders back so she could le
vel Steffen with a serious frown.

  Steffen grinned and squeezed her hand. The action seemed to remind him that he was still holding her hand, for he dropped her limb and pulled his arm to his side. He avoided her eyes for a moment and studied the empty fireplace. “Gabrielle…come back to Castle Brandis with us.”

  Gabrielle had to internally repeat his words to be certain she heard him correctly. When the meaning didn’t change, she rubbed one of her ears with a palm. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “Come back to Castle Brandis with us.” Steffen hit her with his blue eyes with enough force to send a lesser girl sprawling.

  Gabrielle stared at Steffen, unable to fathom a response. What is that supposed to mean? she wondered. This is the love-critic I’m speaking to. Does he feel sorry for me? She started to lean back on the bench.

  Steffen, correctly interpreting her body language as an impending refusal, was quick to add, “Or come to Castle Brandis after you pick up the furball. He’ll throw a hissy fit if he finds out you’ve visited the royal home without him.”

  Gabrielle stilled. Puss would slaughter her for refusing an invitation to Castle Brandis. He would caterwaul about her “image as a hero” and complain how the trip would have improved it. She still didn’t understand it—the cat was forever looking five steps farther down the road than Gabrielle could even imagine. Still, she wouldn’t go without him.

  “When Puss recovers, we’ll visit,” Gabrielle said.

  “Why wait until he’s well? He should recover in Castle Brandis—it would be much more relaxing,” Steffen said. He wore a charming smile Gabrielle hadn’t seen before, one that made her suspect the prince was attempting to wheedle something out of her.

  “I suppose you are right,” she said.

  “You could travel with Rune.”

  “I’ll pass on that offer.”

  “What, Rune isn’t handsome enough to serve as your escort?” Steffen asked. He looked simultaneously pleased and irked as a smile twitched across his lips and slanted—turning wry.

  “Isn’t he carrying a torch for this foster-sister of yours?”

  “That obvious, is it?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s not good enough for her,” Steffen said, glaring at the door his younger brother had passed through. “Neither is Falk, for that matter. Elise is the most self-sacrificing person I know. She would do anything for our family and for this country. Rune and Falk fight over her like quarrelsome chickens, and she deserves better than that.”