by Katy Haye
“Lyo?” It took him a moment to understand who I meant. “The Surranese boy? The thief?” He scoffed disbelief. “Why?”
“Because he didn’t steal the dragonette.”
Jaran’s lip curled. “Is that what he told you? He’s a thief, Jurelle, bound to be a liar, too.”
“He’s not!” I turned my face away. Heat crept into my cheeks. “I just thought … maybe there’d be a way out for him using magic.”
“If you want to use magic to get him out, you’d need someone who can use magic, and find them some magical energy.” He sounded ferocious, back to the brother who sided with our father on every matter. “If you knew someone who could access a dragon and use its magic, and if you could persuade them to help you … well, then both of you would end up sentenced to death.”
He was talking to me as though I were an idiot, as though I didn’t know what happened to people who used magic without the blessing of the mages. I was fed up of everyone looking through me instead of at me, assuming I was pointless and powerless and weak. I wanted to be strong, and I wanted my brother to see me for what I was. “It’s my magic I want to use, Jaran, mine.”
He stared at me, but he didn’t gasp or deny that it was possible. My chest was heaving, as though admitting the truth was as tiring as running to the end of the gardens and back. Jaran’s face was completely still, shocked. I wondered if he’d heard me, properly heard me. I shifted, and in the silence, the scrape of my shoe against the floorboards echoed loudly.
At last he spoke. “Why are you telling me? Why now?”
“I have magic and I want to use it to get Lyo out. He’s being punished for something he didn’t do.” I smiled, although I felt more like crying. “And I don’t know why I told you. You’ll probably go straight to Mage Redmor.”
“I won’t do that.” The expression in his eyes was reassuring. “I can’t figure out ways you’ll be useful to me if you’re dead, can I?”
Was he making a joke? Or simply being calculating, the way father had taught him?
“Why do you want to save the Surran boy?” he asked.
“Because it’s my fault he’s imprisoned. I took the damned dragonette.”
Jaran whistled, his mouth lifting up at one side. “You did?”
I straightened. “Yes.”
“Not a frightened rabbit after all, eh?”
“Not always.”
“Was it in revenge for Father marrying you off to the Surran king?”
“In part,” I admitted. “Mostly, it’s because I hate him, and everything he stands for. He especially deserved to be punished for what he did to the maid.”
I wondered if Jaran would even remember the maid. I was sure my father had forgotten her. My brother simply nodded. “He’s sent hunters after the dragonette. It won’t stay free for long.”
My mouth dried. I hoped Lyo had sent the animal away. If his sister was found in possession of the creature, they’d both be dead because of me. Fists clenching, I looked straight at Jaran. “I have to get him out.”
Jaran met my gaze. “It’s too dangerous to use magic. It would be too dangerous if you knew what you were doing, and you don’t. If you get yourself killed, Father wins. Did you think about that?”
“I can’t just let Lyo die.”
“That’s not what I’m saying. But you’ll have to find another way to help him.”
“I’ve already tried everything,” I pointed out.
He made a clicking noise with his tongue. “Evidently not, since he’s still languishing in the cells.” He turned his back and sauntered to the door.
“Jaran!” He paused. “Don’t tell anyone about this. Please.”
He turned then, frowning. “Of course not. We all have our secrets, sis.”
And now he knew mine. I hoped I wouldn’t regret confiding in him.
18 – A Big Change
There wasn’t time to learn how to do something new with my magic, but maybe there was something I could do with the magic I was used to using. I could change my face so I didn’t look like Princess Jurelle. What if I could change my face to look like someone in particular?
Such as my father.
An order that seemed to come from him and the guards would set Lyo free immediately. Hope fizzed inside me. I had my brother to thank; he’d said I hadn’t explored all options, and his words had forced me to come up with a new one.
I dragged a set of drawers in front of my bedroom door so I’d at least have warning if someone came looking for me. Then, I pulled the drapes across my windows. Someone spying on me from outside was unlikely, but I wanted to feel secure that no one would chance to see what I was attempting.
Excitement rose in me like a tide. This wasn’t a normal transformation. Up until now, all I’d cared for was changing my face so I didn’t look like Princess Jurelle. Now, I needed to change to look like my father, and I’d need to be convincing.
I examined my face in the mirror, looking for traces of my father. There weren’t many. My skin was roughly the same tone, but his had grown darker because he spent more time outside than I did, and his face was wrinklier and saggy because he was older and more weathered than I was. My eyes needed to be blue, although that should be easy because I always changed my eyes when I changed my face. My hair was the right colour, but it would need to brush my shoulders instead of touching my waist, as well as becoming more wiry to look like Father’s mane. And my eyebrows would need to be ragged and wild, entirely unlike my carefully plucked ones.
I sighed and moved back into the main room, sitting before the large mirror on my dressing table. I tried to calm my racing heart. Deep down, I feared my plan was hopeless. Even if I could change my face to look like my father, I couldn’t just summon a guard and tell them to free the prisoner. I’d need Father’s voice, too. More importantly, I was smaller and slimmer by far than he was. My appearance would fool no one if all I did was shift my face.
But one thing at a time. If I could change my face, it would be worth seeking solutions to the other problems. I could borrow his clothes and pad them out. I could remain seated so my height wasn’t apparent. I could practise his abrupt, growling tone.
Wriggling back in my chair, I looked at myself in the mirror, then closed my eyes. My ordinary face blinked out of sight. I tried to bring my father’s face to mind, feeling a jolt as I managed it, seeing his furious expression as he’d pushed me aside when I’d begged for Lyo’s release. I tried to stay calm. That’s what I needed, the heavy brows, the sag of his jowls, the creases in his forehead, his angry eyes. I pulled on my magic, trying to mould it to what I wanted.
The muscles and bones of my face shifted and excitement filled my stomach. My eyes opened.
And the expression in the mirror dropped from hope to disappointment.
There were changes, but not comprehensive enough. I had neither changed to my usual face nor become the image of my father. My face now was a strange mixture of the two, heavy brows over eyes that kept their usual colour, and a narrow chin that didn’t match the furrowed forehead.
But that was my first attempt. I shouldn’t expect to be successful first time. I reminded myself it had taken dozens of tries to change my face first time around. One thing at a time.
The brows and forehead were right; I’d try to perfect the eyes next. I couldn’t keep my gaze on the mirror – it was too confusing to look at one thing and try to picture something different. I closed my eyes and summoned my magic once more. There. I’d felt something change.
I opened my eyes and wanted to cry with frustration. The brows had returned to my slim arches. I’d lost the only part I’d got completely right.
Setting my hands over my face, I touched my strange, mixed features lightly. Then I let my hands fall to my sides and called on my magic for a third time. In my mind, Father’s face screamed displeasure at me. A big change. I needed a big change to turn my face into his.
Magic feathered through me. Bigger, I needed bigger. I
urged my magic to throw away everything that made me Jurelle and start over. Magic flowed faster and thicker. My stomach turned over. I was sitting still, but it felt as though I were trapped in a runaway carriage. Screwing my eyes shut, I tried to hold on to the memory of my father’s face. Big. Big change.
The sensation of falling, as though my body were sliding away from me, dropped through me, like a cold hand running down my spine. I seemed to be moving, although I was still sitting in my seat. My eyes flashed open. I was facing a wall of wood. The mirror had vanished. What had I done?
I looked around, startled, my frightened heart filling my chest. What was this? I blinked as I came face to face with the back of the chair. I turned the other way, the truth beginning to dawn. The mirror hadn’t gone anywhere. I stretched up. Yes, it was still there, on top of my dressing table. Except that I could barely reach the top of the table. I’d asked for a big change, and my magic had obliged.
The room around me was enormous. I’d made it four times the usual size. I gasped rapid breaths, waiting for the outcry from outside my room or outside the palace. If I’d grown my room, I must have swollen the whole palace. I peered down at the floor, too scared to try to reach it, it seemed so far below me.
Silence. No one else seemed to have noticed the change. I couldn’t have changed only my room; that would have brought the palace crumbling down.
I shifted on the huge seat. Acres of fabric pooled around me and I recognised the shade of my gown. The jangle of metal as I moved dragged my attention. The seat was scattered about with a pile of bangles, and the rings that had been on my fingers seconds ago. I nudged one by accident and it toppled off the seat, turning over and over as it fell the distance to the carpet beneath. I wanted to be sick as I realised what had really happened. I hadn’t swollen the palace, nor even my room. I’d shrunk myself.
I sat down, my legs weak. I was in so much trouble. I moaned, and a strange, mewling cry rang in the air. Was that me? I sounded like a baby. I tried to speak, and got nothing but a repeat of the strange noise. I couldn’t speak! I gave a moan – which sounded more like a feeble growl. If my magic had shrunk me, I might sound more high-pitched, but why couldn’t I talk? I could still think clearly enough – mostly about how I’d have to spend my life in hiding, and whether Mage Redmor might be enticed to show mercy to a miniature witch (doubtful). If I were thrown off the cliffs like this, I’d have even further to fall.
No. I wasn’t going to be caught. Something strange had happened when I’d used my magic, but if I could just understand what it was, I could figure out how to use it to free Lyo. If I was tiny it would be easier to sneak around the palace. Perhaps I could set Lyo free myself, or I could sneak out to see his sister in the city.
And cause a riot.
I took a deep breath. I tried to extend my hands and fell over, my face slamming against the folds of the dress spread over the seat. Another distressed cry rent the silence. I rolled onto my side and extended my arms so I could look at my hands.
A whimper came out. My hands were … furry. I scrambled to my feet, realising how much steadier I felt on four feet. Small wonder I’d fallen over when I’d tried to balance on only two. I needed to see myself. And the mirror was far out of sight overhead.
My heart beat so hard it seemed to be vibrating in my chest. The mirror remained on the dressing table, which I couldn’t see from where I stood. I peered up at the edge of the table. I reached up with a front … whatever it was my appendage should be called now. A paw?
I couldn’t reach, but an impatience in my hips told me I could jump onto the higher surface. It was madness. I wasn’t that strong or flexible. I wasn’t a Surranese acrobat. And yet, I felt absolute certainty that I could reach the dressing table top safely. My magic had done extraordinary things. I had to trust that this shrunken me could do what my instincts told me I could.
I crouched back on my haunches, assessing the distance and trying to remember whether I was likely to land on anything sharp or dangerous. And then I jumped.
I landed safely on all fours. Another cry burst out of me, signalling victory this time. I glanced over the massive objects on the table top, then faced the mirror.
Another mewling cry marked my abrupt distress. I hadn’t shrunk myself. Well, I had, but … I stared at the furry face that met me when I peered close to the mirror. A big change.
Turning myself into a house cat definitely counted as that.
Lyo - Confinement
Patience.
That was the other trait his siblings often mentioned.
He thought he had plenty of the stuff, proven by the fact he’d spent weeks observing the palace, day after day.
But that was different from now. Being contained inside a cell was something else. It was so small he’d be able to touch all sides of it at once if his hands were released from the manacles. And suffocating.
The confinement was driving him crazy.
Where were Pell and Kiri?
19 – Claws Extended
I blinked at myself. The cat’s golden-green eyes watching me in the mirror slitted and widened.
Unreality slid around me, a sense of detachment making me feel light-headed. This couldn’t really be happening. I lifted a hand, shifting my weight to keep myself stable, growing used to this new body. In the mirror, the cat’s paw lifted. Its mouth opened to reveal a pink tongue and small, sharp teeth as a plaintive meow cut the air. I leaned forward until my furry face butted the smooth glass of the mirror. The cool surface told me this was reality.
My rear legs gave way abruptly and I sat down with a small, forlorn mew. My thoughts were a confusing jumble of human thoughts and cat instincts. The curtains behind the dressing table kept catching my eye. I wanted to attack the fabric shifting in the breeze. My claws extended and I began to calculate the distance, ready to pounce.
No. I needed to help Lyo. I tried to cling to my human side to form a plan. I couldn’t order anyone to do anything when I looked like this, and I couldn’t help Lyo directly. I remembered the key, hanging high on the wall close to the guards. I might be able to stroll into the cells in my cat form, but I couldn’t free Lyo.
Heat burned through me. My magic had made the situation worse, not better. The curtain snagged my attention again. I was panicking. I needed to think, to keep my human self in charge. I lifted a paw and began to groom. With my cat self occupied, I thought through my options.
One advantage of my new form was that I could get out of the palace without causing alarm. I set down my clean paw, shooting a look at the door that I’d barricaded deliberately. Then I turned to the window, propped open to let in the breeze. I’d bet the trip along that ledge would be easier as a cat.
It was. I completed the same journey I had the night before, but this time my steps were sure and my tail lifted high in the air as I strolled calmly along the stonework, not much caring whether anyone saw me. My brother’s window was again cracked open, while his room was empty. I wondered if he’d found a bed he preferred to his own – or a bedmate, to be more accurate. Lucky him, to have the freedom to come and go. Nobody worried about his virginity.
I jumped from the window onto the thick rug. My cat self took over and I flopped down onto the luxurious pile, pushing my face against it, revelling in the feel of the snipped wool against my fur. A noise overhead snapped me back to my senses. I rolled to my feet in time to see the door open. I dashed for the gap, tangling with a maid’s feet as she walked inside.
She looked down and gasped with surprise. “Shoo! You shouldn’t be in here!”
Her foot kicked out, but I was already gone, a streak of tortoiseshell fur blurring down the stairs. I headed for the servants’ quarters, where there was always coming and going, and doors opening and closing. My steps slowed when I drew near to the kitchens. My cat nose picked up a glorious mix of scents on the air: meat, both raw and cooked; fish; sweet things that my human brain had to name – strawberry tarts and vanilla puddings.
>
My human brain forced my cat self to concentrate and continue walking. I’d already eaten dinner. This wasn’t time to think about food. I needed to find Lyo’s sister and help her get Lyo out of the cells first.
“Aw, pretty kitty.” As I passed down a corridor, one of the maids bent down. I froze, tail high, back arched. She smiled and reached for me, making a kissing noise as her fingers scratched the top of my head. I turned, pushing my head against her fingers while my human self urged me not to waste time.
“Keli! Where are you?”
The maid jumped up with an apology. I was glad of the interruption. My cat self was a confirmed hedonist, it seemed. I turned my back deliberately on the delicious smells coming from the kitchen and headed to the external doors, loitering until a passing servant pushed the door wide enough for me to slip out, his curse at tripping following me out.
The air outside the palace brought new bouquets. I stood, sniffing, catching my bearings. Everything looked different when I was shrunken to cat size, while distances were further away. I needed a quiet, dark area of the wall where I could jump…
My human self smiled internally while my chin and tail lifted and I strutted away from the servants’ door proudly. I didn’t need somewhere unseen, and I didn’t need to jump onto the wall and then down to the street on the other side. In this form, I could stroll straight out of the gates. The guards might watch every step and they wouldn’t even blink.
The gates were closed and locked, but they were wrought of metal, decoratively formed into depictions of plants and crests that were symbolic to Muirland, with gaps that were plenty big enough for me to step through. The guards standing either side didn’t even notice me.
Just like that, I was in the city. Now I had to make my way to Scopgot Lane, the place Lyo had mentioned when he spoke to his sister. I stood in the shadow of the palace walls while I tried to remember where that lay in the city. My part-cat, part-human brain made rational thought difficult. My memory of the streets faded, overlaid by scents carried on the wind which my cat self thought were far more important than names and places. I tried to hold on to my destination. I needed to find Lyo’s sister.