“Hark! The rescued,” Saeldian grumbled. “Gratitude, or more demands, Saer Snowball?”
The kitten, uncaring, ambled right up onto Saeldian’s chest, puffing his fishy breath right up Saeldian’s nose, and purred loudly enough for three cats.
“Brat.”
His fur was soft under their hand. Tiny wicked claws poked into their skin in a contented rhythm that kept time with his purring. He settled into a warm, rumbly little loaf and pressed his jaw into their scratching fingers.
“More tribute for his majesty,” Saeldian muttered, but it didn’t pause Snowball’s purring. “What am I to do, then? Become a cat, like you? Handsome, and stupid, and promptly forgiven for everything—not a bad bargain, actually.”
Snowball’s breath made his whole body swell. His eyes slid nearly shut.
“If I were a cat, I wouldn’t be in this mess,” Saeldian grumbled. “Everything was fine, and then Kell Redsong, of all people. Reformed! Him! Now he’s some kind of wandering do-gooder with his Silvanus-hugging partner. Saving random widows from eviction, living in the bounty of nature, looking down his nose at everything—”
The cat yawned.
“You’re dead right he’s boring. Boring as watching crops grow. If it’s not all an act and this is some elaborate revenge scheme that will, among other things, end my career as an erstwhile kitten rescuer. Then what will you do? You’ll have to live in that stupid tree.”
Snowball’s tail twitched. He set his head down, and his breath puffed on Saeldian’s throat.
“I don’t know what to do,” Saeldian whispered. “I can’t run. I can’t explain. Jubilee wants answers I can’t give. Everything’s gone wrong.”
They stroked Snowball’s head and down his spine in time with their breath. The kitten didn’t even weigh two pounds, but his weight pressed them down into the bed so firmly they couldn’t getup if they wanted to. Their eyelids were too heavy to prop open. They were falling into reverie, thanks to this awful little beast.
“I shouldn’t have kissed him,” Saeldian said.
The next thingthey knew, the door was creaking again as Snowball pried it open with his paws. Saeldian sat up. The light from the window had shifted five more boards.
“Cat, you have perfect timing,” Saeldian said, and scrambled out of bed to wash, don fresh underclothes, and put on their armor once more. They stood before a carved wooden panel split down the middle and pulled it open, revealing tall arched mirrors.
They had places where the silver backing had worn thin, but it was silver. They were tall and gilt-framed and beautiful, and Saeldian made sure every full moon got to watch her reflection in them for her three fullest nights, to keep the magic strong.
Saeldian adjusted the side mirrors, making the images in their frames perfect, and held the amulet in their fist. Saeldian focused on their armor, shaping it into a long open robe and underskirt. They imagined stays scaled with shivering coins. They put on Helarel Brightleaf’s face, sculpted with cosmetics and anchored with a tidy, slightly pointed beard.
Good enough. Now for the rest.
Saeldian studied their reflection, perceiving the room behind them only on the edges. They kept the amulet in their hand and kept their focus wide enough to take in the whole reflection while their link to Osalor’s spell activated. The hastily remade bed, the still-colorful floral wallpaper, a tall bookshelf only half full—they were the background, less real, less important.
The wallpaper blurred, then became the view between slender ivory pillars and panes of glass wreathed in vines and flowers, the glowing rose and gold of a setting sun silhouetting a garden beyond. That was real. That was important.
It was time. Saeldian was going to the Feywild soon. They could see Osalor again, in person. They would walk side by sidethrough that beautiful garden heaped with flowers and just talk to each other about…about anything.
And bustling around in the left panel, dusting, was Nobble, whose tall ears swiveled backward before she herself did, nose and whiskers twitching. “Eh? Is it that scapegrace apprentice? Nobble knows you’re there. Nobble always knows!”
“Nobble,” Saeldian said. “It’s me. Where is Osalor?”
The harengon came right up to the mirror, glowering so fiercely Saeldian fought the urge to lean back. “Oh, it’s you, then, is it? Wanting something—oh, Nobble knows you never call on Master Beguiling unless there’s something you want.”
Cool air blew in from a tiny hole in one of the windowpanes. Saeldian let it touch their smile. “Why else would I call, if not for Master Osalor’s guidance and wisdom?”
Nobble’s ears flopped over her softly furred cheeks as she scolded. She wore the tidy, spotless white-and-silver uniform she always did, with silver rings piercing her long ears. When those ears came down in disapproval, silver charms of an owl, a rabbit, a fox, and a mouse, each with diamonds in their eyes, shivered with her anger. “Saeldian the wheel-spinner never bothers with Master Beguiling unless there’s a want or a need—if Nobble had to pour tea because you came calling on Master Beguiling, Nobble might faint dead away!”
“And does Master Beguiling want to sit and chatter with me? We could set up a lanceboard game and gossip through the mirror.”
“You’re teasing Nobble. Nobble knows Master Beguiling is alone all the time, no visitors, never, not even you, his only pledge.”
Really, Saeldian didn’t have time to be harangued by Osalor’s latest servant. Were all harengon so presumptuous? It had been one year since she’d come to serve in Osalor’s domain, and she meddled harder than a pathlighter. “Master Beguiling has you,” Saeldian pointed out. “You’re always there. And perhaps I could come.”
Nobble stilled and turned to look at the mirror where Saeldian stood in its frame, reflecting the wrong room back into Osalor’s study. “You? Come to see Master Beguiling, your blood and bone here in the grove? Oh! Whatever you want, it must be big trouble. Too much!”
