Chapter 23
23
CAT
A s I paced back and forth across my room, the thick carpet muted my agitated steps. Maeve, ever the watchful confidante, observed me with both concern and curiosity.
“Are you truly considering going through with this marriage?” she finally broke the silence, her voice tinged with worry. “If you do, you know that means you'll never return to your world. And what about the real Lady Arya? You promised you’d bring her back!” she scolded.
I stopped pacing and turned to her, flinging my hands up in exasperation. “Maeve, do I look like someone who’s planning a royal wedding? No! I obviously can’t marry Thorne, but I had to agree in front of everyone so I could buy some time. Right now, we need to figure out how to communicate with Damien without alerting all of Elaria.”
Maeve nodded, her expression solemn. “You think we’re being watched?”
I snorted. “This place might as well have a neon sign saying ‘Under surveillance’. And The Gilded Serpent is no safer. Thorne’s men are likely watching it as we speak, in case Damien shows up there. We need to throw Thorne off our scent.”
Maeve pondered for a moment before suggesting, “What about Garrick? He could—”
“No,” I cut her off, my tone firm. “I can’t involve Garrick more than I already have. If the emperor finds out he’s been aiding us, it’s his head.” Silence hung between us as I wracked my brain for a solution. Then, fate smiled. I snapped my fingers and a grin slid across my face. “I’ve got it! Maeve, prepare a carriage. We’re going on a little trip to the Southern District.”
Maeve raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching into a grimace. “And what exactly are we going to do in the Southern District?”
“You’ll see.” I winked. “Just trust me. This’ll be an adventure. Plus, it might provide the distraction we need to slip a message to Damien.” Her nervous laughter followed me as I excitedly grabbed a cloak from the wardrobe.
“Adventure, she says.” Maeve chuckled. “As if we need any more of that .”
Striding towards the door, I called over my shoulder, “Oh, come on, Maeve! Life’s no fun without a little chaos!” My words echoed down the hall, a testament to the unpredictable path I was about to tread.
The clatter and jostle of the carriage rumbling over the cobblestones toward the Southern District lent an air of unease to the atmosphere inside. Maeve nervously wrung her hands as she sat on the cushioned bench across from me. Her eyes darted every so often to the windows as the less-than-savory sights of the district passed by.
“Alright, my lady, I'm all for a good adventure, but you have to tell me what we're doing,” she pleaded.
Leaning forward, I beckoned her closer with a crooked finger. When she leaned in, I whispered conspiratorially, “I’m going to give something a try—something that hasn't been working lately, but I hope will work today.”
Maeve blinked, taken aback. “And that is?”
I grinned, leaned back, and gave a casual shrug. “You'll see.”
Maeve gritted her teeth, annoyed. “That’s not an answer, my lady.”
I chuckled. “I know.”
When the carriage pulled to a stop, we disembarked in front of The Broken Tankard. The tavern's faded sign swayed in the breeze, emitting an ominous creak that threatened to bring it crashing down on our heads. In the daytime, the place was just as rundown as I remembered, with peeling paint and a ramshackle entrance that promised all sorts of nefarious activities inside.
Grabbing Maeve’s wrist, I pulled her along with pep in my step. “Come on. Let's blend in.”
The place was packed, filled with the pungent smell of cheap alcohol and ringing with raucous laughter and heated arguments from gamblers in the back room. I scanned the crowd looking for a table where we could sit and people watch, but it was standing room only. Gripping Maeve’s wrist, I pushed through the tight crowd to get a better look, just as a pair of burly werewolves vacated a table near the back. I steered Maeve through the crowd and snagged the spot just in time. We hurriedly sat down and pulled the hoods of our cloaks back.
Maeve sighed. “What's your plan, my lady?”
I winked. “Just watch.” Then I sat back and searched the room for the right kind of trouble to stir up.
Thirty seconds later, two witches draped in layers of dark, shimmering fabrics approached us. One was dark and one fair, but both were obviously displeased. The brunette’s sharp eyes glittered beneath her hood as she haughtily said, “Excuse me, but we’ve been waiting for a table quite a while and this one's ours .”
I tilted my head and unflinchingly met her gaze, realizing I didn’t need to look for trouble… trouble had just found me.
I flashed them my most charming smile, the one that usually got me into more trouble than out of it. “Oh, is that how it works here? See, where I'm from, it's first come, first serve. And it looks like you were just a tad too slow. So, that means this table is ours.”
Their expressions flickered between irritation and disbelief. The blonde witch sputtered, “You can't just—”
“Can’t just what? Sit here?” I interrupted, spreading my arms wide and leaning back in the chair. “Look, I’m not saying you’re slow, but if this was a race, you’d still be tying your shoelaces while I was crossing the finish line.”
Maeve gasped, then reached for me and whispered, “My lady!”
The witches' eyes narrowed. “Shoelaces? What are—”
“Never mind.” I waved off their confusion. “But seriously, stick around. I'm sure another table will free up before you can say 'eye of newt' three times fast.”
As the witches stood glaring down at us, the brash brunette leaned closer, her voice low and threatening. “You might think you're funny, but this isn't your playground, human .”
I raised an eyebrow, meeting her challenge with a casual tilt of my head. “Oh, come on, it was just a joke. But hey, if you want to dance, I can lead—or follow, your choice.”
The witch's scowl deepened. Without warning, she flicked her wrist and a glass from a nearby table hurtled towards us. With reflexes honed in far more hostile environments than a dingy bar, I caught the glass mid-air and set it back down with a clink. “Nice try. But if we're throwing things, let me know—I’ve been known to throw a mean party.”
Her companion, evidently less amused and more combative, stepped forward, her hand shimmering with a faint, magical glow. “Enough!” she hissed, launching a condensed ball of air straight at me.
The patrons’ lack of interest told me that fights broke out with numbing frequency, which was fortunate for me because no one came to the witches’ aid. Dodging to the side, I grabbed a tray from a passing server’s hands and used it as a shield. The air blast hit the tray with a thud, scattering a few leftover peanuts. “Really? Over a table?” I taunted, tossing the tray aside. “You must be fun at parties.”
Frustrated and clearly out for blood, the brunette attempted a more physical approach, lunging towards me with a speed that was almost commendable. But this wasn’t my first bar fight. I sidestepped, grabbed a chair by its back, and swung it in a wide arc. When she collided with it, the impact sent her stumbling back.
“Okay, last chance to walk away,” I warned, my voice steady despite the escalating situation. When they both advanced again, steely determination etched into their features, I sighed, resigned. “Have it your way, then.”
As the blonde witch tried to flank me, I picked up a saltshaker from the table and tossed it into her face. She clutched her burning eyes and I used her momentary distraction to sweep her legs out from under her with a low kick. That one was momentarily down for the count.
The brunette witch recovered from being smacked with a chair and flung a whip-like strand of energy towards me. I grabbed a nearby patron’s drink and flung it at her. While it didn’t hurt her or make her melt into a puddle on the floor like the Wicked Witch of the West, the liquid disrupted her concentration and caused the magical energy to dissipate. I quickly closed the distance and knocked the wind out of her with a sharp tap of my elbow to her chest. She crumpled to the ground, gasping.
“I told you, first come, first serve,” I whispered.
As I adjusted my stance, ready for the next round, a sudden chill filled the tavern—a sign I had come to recognize. The door swung open with a flourish and Klaus strode in, his presence commanding immediate attention. His lavender eyes scanned the room until they landed on me, a sly grin spreading across his face.
“Seems like I arrived just in time for the main event,” he announced wryly.
The witches, recognizing the new player on the scene, hesitated as their resolve faltered. “It’s…” they whispered, not daring to say his name.
I smirked and crossed my arms. “Took you long enough. I thought our deal was that you showed up anytime I was in trouble; not after I’ve handled it myself.”
Klaus’s smile widened. As he approached, the witches backed away with fearful recognition. “Ah, but where’s the fun in that?” he quipped. “Besides, it looks like you were doing just fine on your own.” Turning to the visibly shaken witches, Klaus waved a dismissive hand. “Why don’t you ladies take a break? This table’s taken, and the show is over,” he declared to the awestruck crowd that had formed around us.
With grumbles and reluctant nods, the witches retreated and the crowd dispersed, leaving Maeve and I alone at the table with Klaus. He pulled out my chair with a courtly flourish and gestured for me to sit. “After you, my lady. Seems like you’ve earned a moment to catch your breath.”
As I sat down, still processing the quick turn of events, I leaned closer to the enigmatic fae. “Seriously, what’s going on? You didn’t come around the last few times when I needed you. What happened to our deal?”
Klaus’s expression sobered a bit as he took a seat opposite me. “Let’s just say the conditions of my confinement have... shifted since the night of the banquet. The emperor has his eyes trained on me now, more than usual. Showing up isn’t as simple as it used to be.”
I raised an eyebrow, intrigued and concerned. “So, you’re saying you’re being watched?”
“More like scrutinized. But let’s not worry about that now.” He waved off my concern with a flick of his wrist. “Tell me about this mess you’re in with the crown prince. Sounds like the kind of trouble that could use a handsome fae’s touch.”
I chuckled and shook my head, not surprised that he’d already heard the news. “You have no idea. But right now, I need to figure out how to get a message to someone without half of Dragon Valley finding out. Got any special fae magic for that?”
Klaus leaned back and mischief twinkled in his eyes. “Perhaps I do. But let’s make it interesting, shall we? What’s in it for me?”
Rolling my eyes, I leaned forward. “You're impossible.” But I couldn't help the grin tugging at my lips. “Let's just say if you pull this off, I owe you one. A big one.”
“My lady!” Maeve warned. She’d been so quiet, I’d almost forgotten she was there. I gave her leg a reassuring pat.
“Deal.” Klaus extended his hand across the table and I shook it, knowing full well the kind of chaos I was about to unleash. But with Klaus, at least it was never boring.
The deal struck, Klaus settled into his seat and the rowdy atmosphere of the tavern seemed to recede into the background, giving us the illusion of privacy. I leaned in and lowered my voice to ensure our conversation remained between us. “At the banquet, right before the emperor showed up, I overheard some pretty intense discussions about alliances and power plays involving your people. What happened after you and the emperor left the hall?”
Klaus's expression darkened, a stark contrast to his usual mirth. “Ah, that was a less than pleasant conversation.” He briefly scanned the room before returning his lavender gaze to mine. “The emperor has become increasingly paranoid over the years. Not only about the usual court schemes, but about the balance of power between dragons and fae. He believes that the fae, especially those of us with... certain liberties, are plotting to regain control over Elaria.”
I nodded, absorbing his words. “And are you?” I asked half-jokingly.
The corner of his mouth twitched upwards in a devilish smirk. “Let's just say there are many among us who long for the days when the fae were not confined to Faelight Forest. But as for me, I'm more interested in maintaining balance. Chaos for chaos's sake serves no one, especially not us.”
“Right, but when you left the hall with the emperor, what did he want from you?” I pressed, eager to understand the dynamics at play.
“The emperor wanted assurances—oaths of fealty and promises that the fae would remain neutral in any conflicts that weren't directly related to our realms. He's threatened by the potential of an uprising fueled by old grudges and new ambitions,” Klaus explained, his voice filled with frustration and resignation. “He also hinted that any misstep on my part would have dire consequences, not just for me but for all fae under his rule.”
I raised a brow. “And you agreed to his terms?” How could someone as free-spirited as Klaus accept such constraints?
Klaus leaned back, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “I did what I must to keep the peace—for now. But agreements made under duress are as fragile as the paper on which they're written.”
“That’s not very fae of you. I thought the fae couldn’t lie.”
Klaus softly chuckled, the sound almost lost amid the raucous laughter and clinking glasses around us. “Ah, but there's a difference between lying and not telling the whole truth. The fae may be bound by their words, but we're also masters of omission and interpretation.”
I raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his wordplay. “Sounds like you're walking a fine line. So, what's the real play here?”
His gaze flickered with something sharp and quick, like the flash of a blade in the dark. “Survival, first and foremost,” he replied, his voice dropping to a murmur that barely carried over the table. “But beyond that, it's about weaving a new era from the old threads of power. The emperor thinks he's using me, but...” Klaus paused, a sly grin curving his lips, “...he's not the only one who can pull strings.”
I leaned in, my interest piqued by his cryptic hints. “What about me? Where do I fit into this tapestry you're weaving? I'm not fae, yet here I am, mired in all of this.”
Klaus studied me for a moment with an unreadable expression. Then, with a sigh, he leaned closer and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “You, my dear, are an enigma. You disrupt patterns and create chaos where there was order—which is exactly what a stagnant realm needs to shake it out of complacency. Whether you realize it or not, you're a catalyst, and that makes you invaluable to the side who recognizes it first.”
I bit my lip and narrowed my gaze. “I’m not from here, Klaus. You know this. And I don’t plan on staying any longer than I have to. Whatever problems Elaria has, I don’t want to get more involved than I already am. I just want to go home.”
Klaus placed an elbow on the table and leaned his head on it, tilting to look at me innocently. “Is that what you think, Kitty Cat? That you can leave here as you please?”
“Klaus…” I warned.
He laughed. “Don’t fret, Kitty Cat, I’m not insinuating that I’ll keep you here captive like a certain someone we know.” He gave me a meaningful look, although how he knew about my arrangement with Damien was beyond me. “In any event, I know leaving Elaria is not easy.”
I needed a thunderstorm. Until one came, I was stuck in Dragon Valley. It was a two-hour carriage ride down the mountain to reach River Elara. If the thunderstorm was a short burst, my opportunity would be lost before I reached the shoreline.
As Klaus leaned back, the playfulness in his eyes was replaced by serious contemplation. “You see, Cat, your connection to this world isn't simply about where you are physically . It's deeper, tied to your fate and actions while you're here. Your presence has already set certain events in motion—events that won't merely unwind when you decide to leave.”
Frustrated, I crossed my arms and fought to control my growing curiosity. “So what are you saying? That I’m stuck playing in these games indefinitely?”
“Not games,” Klaus gently corrected. “Realities. And not indefinitely, but your role might be longer than you hoped. Think of it, Cat. You have a chance to change things here, to influence a world. How many people get that opportunity?”
I sighed, rubbing my temples. “I just want to go home, Klaus. I don’t want to change worlds or influence anything!”
His expression softened. “I understand that, truly. But sometimes, we don't get to choose our battles. They choose us. And this one,” he gestured subtly, “has chosen you because of who you are, and maybe, just maybe, because it needs what only you can offer.”
“And what’s that?” I asked, skeptical yet intrigued.
“Chaos, unpredictability, and a fresh perspective,” he listed. “You challenge the norms here just by existing. You question things and defy expectations. That’s more powerful than any magic I wield.”
I mulled over his words, feeling the weight of responsibilities I never asked for settling on my shoulders. “What if I refuse?”
Klaus's look was somber. “Then, Kitty Cat, you might find yourself a pawn in someone else’s game, without any say in your fate. At least as a player, you have moves to make.”
His words struck a chord and ignited a reluctant fire within me. Perhaps there was a part of me, however small, that knew he was right. This world, for better or worse, had entangled me in its fate. Perhaps I could twist that to my advantage.
“This is all because I’m his twin flame, isn’t it?” I murmured. I wasn’t sure if Klaus knew, but I might as well reveal myself. Unfortunately, Maeve was hearing it for the first time, and she gasped beside me, scandalized.
Klaus’s eyes widened and he nodded. “I wasn’t certain until now, but yes, Kitty Cat, it’s because you’re his twin flame.”
I sighed and threw my head back. “This goddamn tattoo is going to be the death of me.”
Klaus chuckled, his mood lightening. “Not death, hopefully. Power, perhaps. Influence, certainly. Being half of a twin flame isn't just a mark. It's a beacon that draws all sorts of attention—both good and bad.”
I groaned. “Great, just what I always wanted. To be a supernatural beacon in a world I don't even belong in.” My sarcasm dripped like acid, which Klaus seemed to find amusing.
“Think of it this way,” he suggested, leaning in with a conspiratorial gleam in his eye. “You're not a random player in this game; you're a queen on the chessboard. The most powerful piece.”
“You’re assuming I know how to play chess,” I retorted, trying to lighten the weight of his revelation with humor.
Klaus offered a warm smile. “Then consider this your crash course. Each move you make can change the game. And I, for one, am quite invested in ensuring you know how to effectively make those moves.”
I sighed, resigned to the reality of my situation. “So, what's the first move in this grand game of chess?”
“First,” Klaus said, growing serious again, “we ensure your safety and solidify your position. We need to make sure you're not merely viewed as a pawn or a prize to be claimed by the crown prince or anyone else the emperor might throw at you.”
“How do we do that?” I asked, genuinely curious about his plan.
“By weaving a narrative controlled by you . We start by spreading your own legends. We make you a symbol, not just of power, but of resistance against the emperor's tyranny.”
“You mean songs,” I clarified.
He nodded. “Precisely, Kitty Cat.”
“There’s already one song about me out there that got someone killed because they sang it.” I shook my head and grimaced. “I don’t want to put anyone else at risk.”
“I understand, but folk songs have power, and that power comes from the people. That’s what you need,” Klaus said. “Trust me, Kitty Cat.”
“What about Damien? If he’s my twin flame, I need to warn him.”
Klaus nodded. “Have no fear, Kitty Cat. I will deliver your message to him.”