“I guess I should thank the cat,” he said, catching Risa’s gaze. There was a calculating glint in the ocher pools of his eyes, the veil of vapidity pulled back for a moment to reveal a flash of unexpected cunning.
“Maybe it was me,” she suggested, hoping he couldn’t hear the thundering of her heart.
If Prince Javi didn’t believe her, he said nothing.
Once recovered, Prince Javi could not get the cat to leave him alone. This brought Risa great joy, especially when the cat decided to lay claim to one of the prince’s shoulders and perch there.
“Are you really going to let this creature assault me?” he asked when he tried to remove said creature with little success, its claws threatening to rip up his very nice doublet.
“What an awful little cat,” Risa cooed, ignoring him. “Let’s call it Brunie.”
The cat, which Risa determined was a boy based on no scientific measures whatsoever, seemed unperturbed by the name, though he seemed unperturbed by almost everything, including Prince Javi’s poor attempts at removing him. The cat didn’t care to be petted, ignored Risa’s venture at friendly bribery with a blade of grass, and was unruffled by incessant sneezing. He only bothered reacting when they reached a bridge they hadn’t noticed before that connected the Bosque to the town across the stream.
Hopping off the prince’s shoulder, the cat leaped to the middle of the bridge and sat glaring at them.
Distant singing floated over the stream. The folksy song nagged at Risa’s memories with the familiarity of a lullaby, but she couldn’t recall the words. Something about it made her stomach churn, and dread prickled the back of her neck.
That feeling slithered into her veins, ice-cold. Risa froze withone foot on the cobbled path of the stone bridge, caught between wanting to run and being compelled forward.
Prince Javi stopped beside her. She opened her mouth in warning, though she had no idea what to say.I have a bad feelingwasn’t a persuasive argument against seeking the safety of a town after a night spent running from murderous individuals in a cursed forest. The words wilted on her tongue at the sight of the faint smile playing on his lips. His chin tilted upward as the song washed over him like a balm.
Brunie the cat hissed in warning, body curving into an arch, fur standing on end. Prince Javi took no heed. He strode past, barreling ahead.
The effect was immediate. Something snagged around Risa’s heart, urging her to follow him. Revulsion worked its way beneath her skin, made her dig her heels in and fight the sensation.
The town unfurled like flowers in spring—first in small bursts, then en masse. Enormous trees dotted a dirt path that turned into a town square packed with people. A fountain made of bright gold bloomed at its center, the statue a sentry to all that surrounded it. Flowers lined the basin and spilled out along cobbled roads that meandered through the town. Houses and buildings sporting pointy red roofs overlooked the square, their shutters wide open in greeting.
The townspeople knelt on the ground, mouths open and tipped toward the clear sky in adulation. A single, resonant note warbled in the air, until a new melody was strummed, and the singing started again.
Everything inside Risa screamed for her to turn and run. The icein her veins sent a violent shiver trembling through her entire body, a warning that something was very wrong. The dread continued to prickle at the back of her neck, insistent, but she was more concerned with how her feet seemed unwilling to listen to her demands to escape. The prince waltzed on, moving deeper into the belly of the beast.
Brunie, at least, seemed as alarmed as she was. He scampered after Prince Javi while the townspeople leaped into a choreographed dance that made the hairs on the back of Risa’s neck stand on end.
The song was simple and infantile, like something out of a children’s play. Not that Barrow ever had any of those. Or, if it did, Risa and her family had lost their invitations in the mail.
“Good morning!”
“Good morning!”
“What a wonderful morning!”
Dozens of gathered smiling faces turned in unison to watch her as she stood at the edge of the square, unable to move. Her unease only grew. Ripping her attention away from the dancing, she scanned the rest of the town and found that each building and storefront mirrored an image she knew by heart.
She was looking at Barrow.
This Barrow was unmarred by centuries of storms. The four black cast-iron lampposts placed at each corner of the town square were not rusted over. The fountain spouted streams of clear water over a delicately carved statue of an unknown figure, its face shielded by a veil instead of being eroded away with time and rain. The cobblestones beneath her feet were not permanently slicked. She recognized the road that led to the hill where a large manor sat, looming over the town.
The real difference between her Barrow and this one, though,was the people. They weren’t worn down to dull smudges against a damp backdrop, with frowns becoming permanent fixtures on their drab faces. These people, sporting beaming smiles and open arms, were inherently unlike the ones she knew so well. They greeted her with cheerful waves and exaggerated bows and didn’t cross the road or look away to avoid her.
Somehow, that was more terrifying than anything else.
The gazes that followed her were too bright, too focused, toohungry. They stared as they sang; they stared as they danced; they stared when the strings to their instruments paused or stuttered or changed. Ignoring them, Risa searched the crowds for the prince.
Standing by the fountain, he was bent over a roguish man’s hand, lips puckered for a kiss. The man was large, pale, and corded in muscle. He sported a thick red beard and had abandoned his singing in favor of being wooed.
Great. It had taken Prince Javi less than five minutes to get someone to fall in love with him.
She would have been impressed if she weren’t concerned about the strange town and its stranger singing. The prince seemed unaware of anything except his new beau and the long line of additional admirers waiting their turn.
