Chapter Eighteen Cat #2
‘Careful, Your Majesty,’ Partho growls out, temperate tone freezing over.
‘Considering you brought him here in these circumstances, your platitudes may well earn you early recompense.’ Cat shifts, helping Elician sit up properly now that there is no need for him to feign sleep.
He adjusts against the solid tree trunk at his back.
His eyes fall to the blue stone in Cat’s hand, lips pursing.
‘Tell me why you’re here,’ Partho demands.
‘I presume your spy informed you of the current state of our country.’
‘You knew of Cieli?’
‘Nothing happens in the Blue Lands without my knowledge,’ Partho replies. ‘Your people are loyal.’
Elician’s lips quirk at that. ‘Is that a fact?’
‘We came to help,’ Cat says, trying hard not to squirm at the fond expression on his husband’s face.
Partho shakes his head. ‘Your Grace, I will do anything I can to ensure you find your way back to your throne, but being a Reaper in this climate…will not be a boon. I was coming to the border to ensure you were safe…and if you were, to tell you to stay as far away from Alelune as you could, for now.’
He says it gently. Kindly, even. Like a candle in the dark, or a blanket to stave off the chill. It changes nothing about the world around them, but he offers comfort where he is able. It is only a temporary form of comfort, one that will inevitably grow stale. ‘How bad is it?’ Cat asks instead.
‘The Blue Guard rode east as soon as we formed. We avoided most major cities, knowing our colours would draw attention. We almost made it to the border before we ran into the army.’
‘It was pulled back from Altas,’ Elician cuts in. ‘We found only a portion of the troops in the city. Hundreds rather than thousands.’
‘You may believe what you want, but our army is not so full of soldiers who would willingly participate in the slaughter those fools had planned,’ Partho snaps back.
‘I know that very well,’ Elician retorts. ‘General Leferge led the troops when I fought the border wars, and she did so with distinction. She was not among those we captured.’
‘Captured,’ Partho repeats, scoffing at the word.
‘They’re all alive,’ Cat explains, pressing a hand to Elician’s wrist. ‘Everyone in Altas is alive.’
‘Everyone?’ Partho shakes his head. ‘Out of how many? Our last reports came back that the city—’
‘Captain,’ Cat interrupts. ‘Everyone. Altas is exactly as it was before the Reapers attacked. But when it was done, we discovered the plague…and when we learned how to heal it, we knew Alelune would not have the same ability to defend against it. We came to help. If this was about the crown…I wouldn’t be here now, like this.
And neither would my husband. Neither of us trusts Gillage enough for that. But it cannot be about him. Not now.’
Partho sits, quiet and still, staring at Cat with uncomfortable intensity.
‘The Guard met the army outside Endura. By then the city had already begun to contract the plague and we became aware of the totality of the situation as one. General Leferge’ – he tips his head towards Elician – ‘sent out scouts to determine the spread of the disease.
The army had been preparing to march on the capital, to demand explanation from Gillage directly for what he had ordered done to Altas.
But when the disease became clear, they did not risk traversing across Alelune.
‘If you mean what you say, if you’ve come to help, then that is where you should go first. Because if you heal this army, they are already ready and willing to fight for you if it means removing Gillage from the throne.’
‘You want us to walk ourselves willingly into the army’s reach?’ Elician asks slowly.
Partho leans forward, incredulity painted across his smooth face. ‘Your Majesty, what exactly did you expect would happen when you crossed that border?’
Time, Cat thinks. Elician had thought, or at least hoped, that they would have more time.
But even as he clenches his jaw shut to avoid a stinging retort, Elician’s frustration is evident.
Cat slips his hand down until he can thread his fingers between his husband’s, until their palms press tight together.
‘How far are we from Endura?’ Cat asks quietly.
‘Not far, and the army is just beyond the city.’
Elician squeezes his fingers. He meets Cat’s eyes. ‘In the morning, then,’ he murmurs.
‘Yes,’ Cat breathes. ‘In the morning.’
‘Go back to sleep,’ Partho suggests. ‘I’ll keep watch.
’ He stands, then all but disappears into the thick darkness beyond their firelight.
There is no moon above them; the stars are hidden behind a blanket of clouds.
The only true source of light is the blue stone still held protectively in Cat’s hand.
Elician reaches for it slowly. Cat lets the cord slide free, the medallion dangling from his fingers and twirling in the dark.
Elician strokes one curved edge but make no move to take it properly. ‘It was mine,’ Cat admits, ‘long ago. My father gave it to me. He carved it himself.’
‘Your father knew how to cut blue stones?’
‘The former Lord of the Blue Lands…Theolone, I think? He died without issue, and that’s the only reason my father was able to be gifted the territory.
But the people there, they have their own customs. And you can’t lead the Blue Lands if you’ve never mined them because the stones only come to those who deserve them. ’
‘How do the stones know if you are deserving?’ Elician asks.
He raises his hand until his fingers wrap around the cord.
A subtle tug, and Cat lets him take it. Slowly, Elician leans forward to wrap the cord around Cat’s neck and secure it in place.
When he releases it, the weight settles right where it should, just over his heart, not unlike Elician’s own sigil that he was wearing when they first met on the bank of the Bask over two years ago.
‘You cannot want to keep them for yourself, or profit from their existence,’ Cat murmurs, pressing his hand to the medallion.
‘They’re gifts. They always have been, they always will be.
My father…he was crippled and weak. And the people would not accept him as their leader if he could not prove himself to the mountain.
He didn’t argue, not once. He took a pickaxe and walked into the mine with all the ministers and governors and overseers.
He walked as far as he could go, then he lifted the axe and—’ Cat mimes it.
One fierce strike downwards with both hands, not unlike the swing of a sword cleaving a helmet in two.
‘It only took one hit,’ he continues, taking his charm in hand.
‘It came off the wall…and what a sign.’ The stone is perfectly formed, a glamorous and curved crescent moon.
‘His axe hit here,’ Cat says of the empty space the crescent forms around.
‘And the rest…fractured off from the main wall in a shape that only needed a slight refinement for it to be made perfect.’
‘How old were you? When you moved to the Blue Palace?’
‘Six or seven? Young enough that I don’t remember all of it.
But I remember him coming out of that mine.
He could barely walk by the time he made it out…
Partho must have been helping him stand.
But they declared him their lord, and he…
he gave me this almost immediately. He had them swear to me as his heir. And…
it looks different now than on that day, obviously. It’s been polished and set to be worn, but…’ His fingers tighten around the charm.
‘You never would have taken it off,’ Elician guesses quietly.
‘No,’ Cat agrees. ‘Not for anything.’ And when it was taken from him, he did everything he could to get it back.
It cost him his life.
Partho must have dredged that river for days, he thinks. It would have been awful.
Elician nudges his shoulder. His arm. ‘Come here.’ Cat goes, curling against his chest. Elician kisses Cat’s hair. ‘Do you trust him?’
‘Partho?’ Cat asks, pressing his nose to Elician’s throat, relishing the arms at his back, flushing at the reminder that somewhere out there they are being watched. ‘Yes,’ he murmurs.
‘Are you sure?’
He does not know the answer to that, and yet he says, ‘I want to be.’ It will have to be enough.