Heartless by Anne Elisabeth Stengl Page B

shower, and the night was chilly, which had motivated Nurse to close the window before retiring. It was too early in spring to leave it open.
    Yet the room had felt near to roasting just a few moments before. Leaving the windows open and resigning herself to a scolding from Nurse in the morning, Una climbed back into bed and pulled the coverlet up to her chin. Monster sniffed her cheek, his whiskers prickling against her skin, and she swatted him away. Then she closed her eyes.
    The cat perched on the pillow beside her, silent as a statue, hardly moving save for the occasional twitch at the end of his tail. When at last he was certain she slept, Monster hopped off the bed, padded to the window, and slipped out into the night.
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    Despite the lateness of the hour, in another wing of the palace, a fire still blazed bright in a marble fireplace. Prince Aethelbald sat before it, his back bent, his elbows resting on his knees, studying the moving flames, or perhaps gazing into the shadows behind them. The room was silent save for the snapping of embers, until a scratching outside his window drew his attention.
    “Meea?”
    Aethelbald rose from a chair and crossed to the window. The scratching increased, along with a persistent “Meea? Meeeowl?”
    Drawing back the curtains and opening the latch, Aethelbald came face-to-face with a pink nose on a whiskered face. The cat slid gracefully into the room, took a seat on the comfortable chair where Aethelbald had just been sitting, and set to work grooming himself. Aethelbald folded his arms, watching the cat and waiting several patient moments before he said, “Yes?”
    The cat gave his coat a last lick, then turned his ears to the Prince. “My lord,” he said, “she dreams of him.”
    Aethelbald did not answer. He paced to the fireplace, resting his hand on the mantel as he gazed down into the flames. “Are you certain?” he asked at last.
    “I smelled him,” the blind cat said. “I smelled death. I smelled burning.”
    The Prince closed his eyes and nodded.
    The cat hopped down from the chair and rubbed around the Prince’s ankles, purring and flicking his tail. “Must it be this way, my Prince?”
    “Yes.”
    “He has not found her yet.” The cat stopped purring, his nose twitching as he considered his words. At length he said, “I’ve become fond of the girl. I’d hate to see her . . .”
    “No,” said the Prince quietly.
    The cat lashed his tail once, then stalked a few paces away, keeping his ears trained back on Aethelbald. “I know,” he said. “I know you love her more than I could. I just wish . . . I wish I understood.”
    “I will do everything I can for her,” Aethelbald said. “Everything.” He looked at the cat, his eyes full of compassion.
    The cat felt the expression that he could not see and relaxed under the Prince’s gaze, purring once more. “Do you know what has brought on these nightmares?” he asked.
    “Torkom was selling visions in the market today.”
    “That old goblin?” The cat bristled. “What’s he doing so far from home?”
    “The usual mischief.” Aethelbald’s face became hard. “She touched a dragon scale.”
    “Torkom dared sell . . .” His lip curled back in a snarl. “Dragon-kissed fiend!”
    Aethelbald turned back to the fireplace. The flames danced and played across his vision, writhing hungrily over the logs. The light shone off his cheekbones and brow but cast his eyes in shadows. “The fire stirs already, Sir Eanrin,” he said in a low voice. “Soon it will wake.”
    He closed his eyes and made a quick motion with his hand. “Please return to the princess. Guard her dreams as best you can.”
    The cat bowed after the manner of his kind, haughty and respectful at once. Then he whirled and leapt out the window, swallowed by moonlight and darkness.

5
    Felix disliked few things in life more than sparring by himself in the practice yard. But his father’s guard never found time to