That’s it. If I don’t find him in five more minutes, I’m out of here.
She glanced back over her shoulder.
There was movement between the trees, and she spotted two gryphons, wings outstretched, gliding not as far away from her as she would have liked. Both were deer-size, but compact as, well, a lion, with the muscles of a predator. On the plus side, they weren’t grand gryphons, like the species she’d encountered on the lighthouse keeper’s island a few years ago—those had been the size of a house. On the minus side, despite being smaller, they did not look sweet and cuddly.
“Well, this is fun.” Raising her voice, she called, “Just so you know, I’m friends with a sea serpent, and he has a vindictive streak. You don’t want to mess with me.”
He didn’t have any kind of vindictive streak. He was as sweet as a puppy. But she didn’t think the gryphons could understand her anyway. Hopefully they’d just hear a loud, unafraid voice and decide not to pursue her.They’re just curious. Or territorial.Now that she was moving away from their territory, they’d lose interest. Maybe.
She was losing interest in this whole endeavor. She was paid fordelivery and discretion, not a quest through the woods with feral gryphons and freezing temperatures.
Just as she’d nearly decided to turn back, Marin saw a cottage with smoke rising from the chimney. It was nestled between the pine trees, quaintly framed in snow. Even better, it had fresh boot prints leading to and from the front door.
Aha! Found you!
She wrestled the statue through the trees to the door. Shaking her arms out, she tried not to wince at how sore they were. She was going to ache in the morning.
Marin knocked on the door.
No answer. Of course. She sighed heavily. Well, this was clearly where the gardener lived. There was no question about that. She debated whether she should search any further, but leaving a parcel on the doorstep was a time-honored way to deliver a package, and it wasn’t as if there were any thieves on the island liable to make off with a full-size wood statue. She doubted the gryphons would be interested. Maybe a beaver? Or termites? Anyway, she’d delivered it.
Marin slid the letter underneath the door and knocked one more time for good measure. She then turned to the statue. “I wish you all the best of luck. I truly do.”
And then she hurried back through the woods toward the sea and her friend, and away from the snow, the feral gryphons, and any potential lawbreaking that she intended to adamantly deny any knowledge of.
Not my problem.
CHAPTER FIVE
Her home island looked like a cat curled up in the sun. Marin couldn’t help but smile as she and Perri sailed closer. She loved her home.
Years ago, the stories said, Flicker was only barren rock, a hiccup from a volcano that didn’t mean to explode and felt a bit embarrassed about it so never did it again. It sat forgotten in an empty stretch of sea, far away from the other islands, and felt sorry for itself until the first winged cat flew onto its shore.
The stories didn’t explain what that first cat ate—fish presumably? But by the time people came to settle Flicker, the island had transformed itself into a cat paradise, complete with trees to perch in, beautiful, brightly feathered birds and purple mice to hunt, and copious sunshine to nap in atop the rocky peaks. All the people who lived there worked their lives around the cats. No one owned a winged cat on Flicker, but very often, a cat would decide it owned you.
I should have known what Iovar was because of the cats.
He’d always tried to pet them and pick them up, ignoring every cue that they wanted to be left alone unless they decided otherwise. He never gave them enough space to come to him. He assumed he was owed their affection.Yeah, that should have been a major clue.
Unfortunately, she’d been blind to it. She’d liked his attention, especially when it had been all praise and promises.
Ugh,and this was why she hated coming home as much as she loved her home: every time she saw the black lava rocks, the trees with their flocks of winged cats, and the houses each with cat windows in their roofs, she was flooded with this swamp of regret, guilt, and flat-out horror with herself for falling for a man who wasn’t cat-worthy.
She’d thought she was so smart. So clever. Such a good judge of character. But it was abundantly clear to her after everything with Iovar that she had less actual sense than an orange winged cat. She’d just been lucky she hadn’t made any catastrophic mistakes in the last two years. Keeping her distance from everyone was the only way to continue to ensure that.
Her parents’ unpaid debt—and the fear that they’d lose their home if she failed to repay it—was a constant reminder of her unforgiveable failure of judgment and how much pain it had caused not just her but also her parents, who deserved only good things.I failed them once; I’m not going to fail them again.
As she sailed closer, a flock of winged cats burst out of the trees and flew in a V formation toward her and Perri. Shoving all thoughts of Iovar down, Marin grinned. “Have fun,” she told the sea serpent. “We’ll leave in the morning, okay?”
She tacked away sharply, avoiding the buoys that marked the channel into the harbor, but she kept looking back. Staying in the deeper water, Perri began to writhe and dance, diving down and then flinging himself up. As the flock of cats flew closer, his dance grew more elaborate. Soon, silver flashes appeared in the air as he flung himself upward.
The winged cats dove for the silver flashes, catching the fish with their paws and mouths. They circled above Perri as he continued to toss dinner into the air for them. Marin grinned as she watched the delight of both the cats and the sea serpent.
The fish were most likely less delighted, but she was fine with that.
She steered her sailboat beyond the harbor. She had no intention of docking where anyone could see her—her silver sails weren’tunique, but paired with a sailor with silvery skin who traveled with a friendly sea serpent… word would spread fast that she was home. If she avoided the main harbor and didn’t leave her parents’ house, then by the time anyone knew she was here, she’d have come and gone. It was admittedly not the bravest choice, but it was the simplest. She’d successfully gone two wonderful years without seeing Iovar.
Marin kept a safe distance from shore as she circled the island before tacking toward a cove that held a beach with black sand. It sparkled in the sunlight, as if it were mixed with shards of diamond. She sailed toward a skinny dock that stretched out beyond the breakers, and she tied off next to her parents’ sailboat, also with silver sails. Its hull had been cleaned recently, as well as scraped of barnacles and polished, and every inch of it gleamed. A cat with golden wings perched on top of its mast and made chirping-clicking noises at seagulls who flew just offshore.
