Chapter Five Cat
CHAPTER FIVE
Cat
Preparation for Elician’s coronation takes priority over the next few days.
He is whisked off by countless people that Cat never knows the names of, paraded through the introduction of ritual after ritual, then told he needs to burn at least three prominent sun patterns into his skin before the day itself.
This has the benefit of making him lie out in the sun, unmoving and – more often than not – dozing with dark stencilling spread out on his bare chest and arms. He never sleeps well at night, and regardless of the reason for it, Cat’s glad that Elician finds at least some rest here or there throughout the day.
Marina seems to have been elected as Cat’s liaison, and she talks him through his own expectations.
She asks his opinion on matters of such little consequence that he struggles to come up with an answer.
He doesn’t care about flower arrangements or the cut of his jacket.
‘In all your time at Kreuzfurt there isn’t one garden or flower you took a particular fancy to? ’ She sighs. ‘Just name anything.’
‘What Fransen liked, then. Do that.’ The elderly Reaper had been his guide when he first arrived at Kreuzfurt.
Solebens enjoy honouring their dead. It would be respectful to their culture at the very least. And Marina looks suitably impressed with the recommendation, so he supposes he has done something right.
He lets her fit him for a proper crown and a new set of clothes, but cannot muster up any deeper well of enthusiasm.
Every day that passes is another day closer to their eventual departure.
It is both too soon and too far. He wants the waiting to be over.
He wants reality to set in fully, and no one seems to have any response to give for the questions he wants the answers to the most.
‘What do you know about this ritual?’ he asks Marina. ‘I can’t find it in any books.’
‘I doubt it’d be in any books here,’ Marina replies. ‘And it was something that came after my time in Alelune – I have no idea what they came up with. What did Laure say exactly?’
‘That I’d go to Death’s temple and ask her to decide between my brother and me.’
‘And that’s all she said?’
‘Yes.’
Marina shakes her head. ‘I don’t know what to tell you. It’s nothing I’ve heard of.’
‘Is it a real ritual?’ It could be a trap.
It could be entirely fake. Elician said he’d walk into Alerae to parlay with the Alelunen king one way or another; he could be sending himself back into imprisonment.
There is no way they’ll be allowed to take a large army with them.
And even if they bring a small group with them, they’ll be slaughtered.
Anxiety spirals through him. ‘This is a bad idea.’
‘Yes,’ Marina agrees. ‘It is. But your alternative is bloody war – something you both are trying to convince all of Soleb is not going to be the outcome of your wedding.’
She plucks a folder filled with more damnable preparations for a party he can barely stomach. ‘Focus on food and colour schemes. At least those choices won’t lead to anyone’s death or imprisonment. Try to relax and enjoy it. You don’t know when you’ll have another chance to do so in the future.’
The advice falls flat.
And when he repeats it to Elician during another endless night in their office, Elician doesn’t seem any more inclined to believe it either. ‘What food did you choose in the end?’ Elician asks him.
‘Apple tart, smoked fish.’
‘I like those.’
‘At least we’ll have something to eat, then.
’ He nudges an untouched platter of crackers and cheese closer to Elician’s hand.
It has been there since midday. Elician takes one and barely gives it a nibble before setting it back down and continuing to sketch and draw a new sigil meant to unify their houses.
Cat leans down to see the latest attempt.
From the basket full of wasted parchment, the day’s efforts have not been kind to his betrothed.
One contender peeks out from beneath a smattering of others, and Cat huffs a laugh as he reaches for it.
Elician makes a half-hearted effort to stop him before giving up and leaning back in his chair.
‘I couldn’t think of anything productive, so I just drew…
that.’ A creative spiral takes up the focal point of the page, ostensibly a sun, though it has been augmented by a feline’s ears and whiskers and big round eyes.
It is ridiculous. Silly. Cat snickers without meaning to, and Elician answers with a charming slide of his lips. ‘You like it?’
‘It’s a start,’ Cat replies. ‘I don’t think Alelune will appreciate it as much as I.
’ He sits on the edge of Elician’s desk, tracing the little creature’s features with a feather-light touch.
‘I like this bit.’ Cat points at the whiskers, nose scrunching just a touch as he examines the design with far more consideration than it deserves.
‘I like how they form the rays of the sun. It’s… it’s nice.’
‘Keep it,’ Elician offers. ‘And hope it’s not the best I can come up with.
’ He shows off some of his other attempts as Cat folds the sketch and carefully tucks it away.
He has to be very careful to make sure none of the creases cross over the little solar cat’s face.
When he’s done, Elician has pulled out a fresh page to try a new figure on.
‘There are only so many ways to show a sun and moon in unison…but I want them to be equal. If they’re not – someone is bound to be offended.
The sun is too big, the moon is too big, on and on and on. But balancing it…I’m not sure how.’
‘Inversion,’ Cat suggests. Elician frowns, not understanding.
‘May I?’ He wiggles his fingers, miming the quill still resting in the cradle of Elician’s right hand.
Elician hums as he passes it over. He scoots his chair back to allow Cat more room and Cat steals his chair from his own desk to squeeze in at Elician’s.
They are pressed close together now, Elician’s breath warming the air above Cat’s head as he leans down to work.
Cat draws two designs at once, replicating some of Elician’s attempts but offering different shading here or there.
He is not fast. He has never been particularly well gifted when it comes to the arts.
It’s not like he has had much time to practise.
But Elician tells him of his day as he drags the quill this way and that.
‘I changed a law today,’ Elician says. ‘I didn’t tell anyone I did it, but I changed it anyway.
’ Cat glances up briefly to show he’s listening, but offers little more.
‘It’s one of those pesky procedural powers.
The ruling monarch does not need to summon parliament for the alteration of the base terminology of a law passed previously and currently deemed of insufficient technical merit. ‘
Cat guesses the law in an instant. ‘The prohibition on Givers ascending?’
Elician nods. ‘It was as simple as a line-item change. Retract a word here, insert a word there. No Giver may ascend to the throne of Soleb and serve a term without end turns into A Giver may ascend to the throne of Soleb and serve a term of no greater than one human lifespan. My father could have modified it at any point, and he never did. He just lied and lied and lied, despite me being right there the whole time. I changed it in seconds, and the world did not collapse around me. Aeons of history have not yet come crashing down upon my head.’
‘I thought you would change it after you ascended,’ Cat admits. ‘I did not know you had the power to do so beforehand.’
‘All authority passed to me as king the moment my father died. Anslian shouldn’t have been crowned in the first place, but…even he made it known I was taking up the crown behind him. The coronation is just a public ceremony celebrating the transition…just like our wedding, I suppose.’
‘I don’t understand.’
Elician huffs, shaking his head and tossing one hand to the side.
‘The reason Adalei was truly as annoyed as she was is because when we swore ourselves to each other’s cause the night I arrived in Crowen, it could have been considered a field wedding.
’ Cat blinks at him, the term still not becoming clear.
‘It’s a kind of ceremony-less exchange of vows with sincere intent but no witnesses save the gods. ’
Something squirms in Cat’s chest at that. ‘Then you are my husband already?’
‘In a sense,’ Elician replies. ‘But, we weren’t struck dead, so…’ He shrugs.
‘Is that a common outcome of Soleben field weddings?’
‘Just superstition. Some rumours meant to keep kids from being too liberal with their affections, more likely than not. Parents don’t exactly want their children running off and eloping with anyone they decide to swear an oath to.
I don’t think any of my ancestors have ever had a field wedding.
They were all kings and queens…all their weddings were carefully planned with great ceremonies to mark the occasion.
Guess I’ll be the first in that too. Not that anyone will know since we’re still doing a nonsense ceremony anyway, but… ’
Cat winces. He had thought it was nonsense too, but still. Somehow, that hurt. He hadn’t even expected it to. ‘Did you use to imagine your wedding as a child?’
‘I never wanted to get married at all,’ Elician replies. ‘All my loved ones are going to die. Every single one of them. Why would I ever imagine marrying someone else just so I can watch them die too?’
‘All things die.’
‘You won’t.’
Cat colours in the sharp crescent of a moon hugging a sun. ‘I might. Fransen died and he’d only been a Reaper for a few years.