Chapter 14 Cattitude #3
Mal gave a sigh that moved his entire little body. “I thought we’d moved past those feelings.”
Sage was suddenly determined to focus on the zip of the cushion she was hugging tightly.
She twiddled it mercilessly. “I have, I have…Well, they don’t keep me up all night crying into your fur anymore, at least. Mostly because I haven’t the time to contemplate them as much.
They’re just dormant feelings these days, spirits turned to stone statues.
I’m not sure I’ll ever be rid of their presence. ”
She always found that confessions to her cat came more easily than to anyone else.
“You cannot be a wicked witch, Sage. When have you ever known a wicked witch to have a ginger cat, for one thing? That’s not how the stories go.”
She gave him a reluctant twitch of a smile. “You’re a little biased.”
“I’m a cat. We’re not ones to worry about hurting feelings.
If I thought you were an awful human, I’d tell you.
And then join in whatever evil plans you were cooking up.
I’m loyal that way.” Sage swore she saw the smallest smirk appear between his whiskers.
He stretched out a languid paw in her direction.
“You’ve told me what happened hundreds of times over and I still don’t believe you’re to blame. ”
She held his round green gaze for a moment. “But it was my spell.”
“You were just a kid,” Mal said firmly, shaking his head. “There’s no way your magic was capable of it—or you as a person, for that matter.”
“I can only tell you the facts, Malachite. The flowers that I picked combined with my magic, I conjured some kind of poison, and some kind of dark Earth Sorcery went horribly, horribly wrong. The next morning, Mum and Dad were…” As always, when the rare moment came that she had to say the words out loud, they turned to stone in her throat.
Heavy, jagged and stuck. “Mum and Dad were gone. I don’t believe in coincidences. ”
“Perhaps you should,” Mal said with a nose twitch. “I know life feels easier when everything fits into a box that can be labelled, taped and stacked, Sage, but that’s not always possible. Sometimes—”
“Sometimes a stupid, lost little girl believes she’s meant for special things, tries to prove it to everybody else and kills her parents.”
Mal’s ears scooched back in surprise. The cold words came out so sharply that Sage reeled back from them once they’d tumbled from her mouth. She hastily gathered her composure and tucked a ringlet behind her ear, trying to ignore the tremble in her hand as she did so.
“You weren’t to know that those flowers were dangerous, Sage.”
“There was a gap in my knowledge,” she said with a bitter laugh. “The last time I’ll ever let that happen.”
“How could you have known?” Mal’s voice remained soft.
“You’ve told me time after time that the bouquet smelled lovely, that the colourful flowers looked harmless, that you thought your mother would love them.
You were just a baby witch trying to do something nice for her parents, trying to celebrate her newfound magic. ”
“I let myself run away with the excitement and the wonder and the joy, like a fool. Carried away by magic. I didn’t bother to consider the consequences, and they paid the price for it.
” She furiously swiped at her eyes with the back of her right hand, annoyed that it came back wet.
“I knew it then, the moment I found them that morning. Magic was not mine to enjoy and it never would be. I’ve never been deserving of it. ”
“Then how do you explain the arrival of this spell, hmm?” Mal said.
“Clearly, Lilara thinks otherwise. And I haven’t seen you this exhilarated in a long time.
I saw out the window the way your eyes sparked when you noticed the house had changed.
And again, your whole face lit up when you were taking samples from that beanstalk.
Plus, you seem rather pleased that we’re even having this conversation. You’re excited.”
Sage looked affronted. “I am not!”
“Are too. You’re enjoying this. As you should. It’s about time you forgave yourself, before it turns you entirely bitter and cold. It’s about time you let in joy and fun and, yes, magic too.” Mal gave her a knowing, wise sort of slow blink. “Don’t be a scaredy cat.”
Sage had no comeback to that.
Rising with an unbothered long stretch and a dramatic arched back, Mal padded across the sofa to find Sage’s lap. He placed the white socks of his front paws on her chest. “The Shoemaker…” She remembered Casimir saying the sign had changed. “Puss in boots, I take it.”
The cat proceeded to give her a short, sharp but distinctly affectionate headbutt to the chin. He dropped back down to all fours and promptly curled up on her lap. “You’re not the wicked witch you think you are,” Mal said quietly.
Her head fell back against the sofa cushions. With her hand resting on his small body, rising and falling with his quiet breaths of contentment, it was the first time in years that Sage slept truly peacefully.