Not trusting herself to comment on that obvious half-truth, Emily looked to Inalfi. “Care to comment?”
“Perhaps it would be better if Himself explained.” The tiny maid wrinkled her nose as she stepped back with a quick shake of her head.
“What the feckin’ hell has happened here?” Gryffe’s thunderous roar shook the ground. “Where is my Emily? If any harm has come to her, every one of ye will rue the day ye were born!”
The kitten hissed and growled, balling up tighter in the protection of Emily’s arms. “Don’t worry, kitty,” she reassured it. “He’s just a little overprotective.”
The cluster of warriors parted and bowed their heads. Gryffe stormed forward, visibly relaxing, when he saw her. But then his attention settled on the cat, and his expression darkened with a displeased scowl. “My own…my dearest love…do ye ken what ye cradle there in yer arms?”
“A kitten.” She kissed the top of the tiny black cat’s head and was immediately rewarded with louder purring. “Isn’t she sweet? Your mother said her name is Grimalkin.”
“Sweet?” He cut a hard glare over at Nicnevin. “Explain yerself. Now.”
The Dark Queen held up a finger and wagged it back and forth. “I did not do this. Grimalkin came of her own accord. She insisted she is meant to serve and protect your Lady Emily.”
Gryffe scrubbed his fingers through his beard, scratching along his jawline while scowling up at the heavens. “My love,” he said, turning back to Emily, “what ye believe ye see and hold in yer arms, and what we see and believe is there with ye are two entirely different things.”
She looked into the kitten’s golden eyes. “What is he talking about?”
The little cat squeaked with an adorable kittenish meow, making every warrior in the garden flinch and jerk back another step.
Even more suspicious, Emily turned to Nicnevin. “Drop the illusion.”
Nicnevin twitched a nonchalant shrug. “’Tis not my illusion to drop, my lady. Speak to Grimalkin.”
“Grimalkin?” Emily arched a brow at the cat. “If we’re to be friends, I need to know the truth about you, please.”
The dear little creature leapt from her arms and transformed into a monstrously huge black panther, then head-butted Emily’s skirts in search of a reassuring pat.
Now she understood everyone’s reaction, but was still unable to resist the gorgeous cat. She crouched beside it and pulled it into a hug. “It’s going to be so easy to love you, Grimalkin. You’re my sweetie. No matter what form you take.”
Nicnevin threw back her head and roared with victorious laughter. “It would seem Grimalkin knew all along she would be accepted.”
“Don’t gloat,” Emily told the Dark Fae Queen, making everyone in the garden gasp. Realizing she might’ve overstepped with the goddess of magic, she softened the advice with a grateful bow of her head. “But thank you for protecting Grimalkin until I could get outside to meet her. I’ll need you to teach me about her. What to feed her—things like that. Somehow, I don’t think a saucer of cream will be enough.”
“It would probably be best that I not teach you about her diet,” Nicnevin said as she generously returned Emily’s gracious nod. “I will tell you, though, that she feeds but once a Fae year and only within the boundaries of my kingdom—upon her prey that lives there.” She cut a sideways look at Gryffe’s warriors. “Unless provoked here in Scotland, of course. If anyone threatens ye or my grandchildren once they are born, Grimalkin will be most happy to make exceptions and dine on the entrails of our enemies.”
“Eww.” Emily scratched the panther under the chin, making the great cat’s long whiskers twitch. “Let’s try to avoid that here at the keep, okay?”
Golden eyes partially closed in pure bliss, Grimalkin purred louder and slowly moved her head to guide Emily’s scratchings to the perfect spot.
“She reminds me of a cat I had when I was little.” A wave of homesickness sent the threat of tears. Emily blinked hard and fast to keep them at bay. With the passing days, the sadness came less often, but it still came, and when it did, it hurt. Badly. She swallowed hard and tried to shake herself out of it. “My kitty was named Binxer. She lived to the ripe old age of twenty-two before she crossed the rainbow bridge.”
“Crossed the rainbow bridge?” Gryffe asked gently.
She shook her head. “I’ll explain later.” She was too emotional at the moment to give a lesson in twenty-first century vernacular. She had loved Binxer so very much, as all her family had.
Grimalkin rubbed closer, nudging and purring louder as if understanding her pain and trying to offer healing.
“The heartache again, my love?” Gryffe knelt and wrapped an arm around her. “Cry if ye need to. There is no shame in yer tears.”
“I don’t need to cry in front of everyone,” she whispered, doing her best to sniff them back and concentrate on scratching Grimalkin’s sleek head. “They’ll think I’m a weenie.”
“A what?”
“A weak, whiny person without a spine.”
“No one would ever think that of ye.” With a flick of his wrist, he dismissed his warriors, hugging her closer as the garden emptied of everyone except themselves, Nicnevin, and Inalfie. Mrs. Thistlebran had taken the opportunity to scurry back inside. Gryffe kissed her cheek. “And now ye not only have a husband who is half Unseelie, ye have one of the kingdoms fiercest beasties pledging to stay at yer side.”
