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Parts of his memory were still a bit fuzzy, but Leo knew the laughter that came next—haunting and far too familiar. Like he had been waiting to hear it creep up behind him all these years. Like it was the very danger that had spurred him to run back to Castletown when his form had first been changed, and his human memories had quickly deserted him.
A man wearing an elegant deer-skin jerkin stood in the center of the ring, appearing in the subtle blink of an eye. Except he wasn’t quite a man. His cheekbones were too high, his ears were too pointed, and there was something ageless and ethereal about his stance. His white hair—longer than a maiden’s—had been tied back in a queue, except for a few pieces strung with beads to frame his face. His eyes glittered like bright emeralds, and stag horns grew out the top of his head.
“So you’ve come back to me at last,” the fae man said. “Have you finally realized I’m the only chance you have of regaining your human form? Or are you still fighting me, my little prince?”
Leo thought he was strong. He thought he was brave. But something very human inside his cat-body sent out an alarm, and his heart started to race.
He found himself taking an involuntary step backward.
But Leo was safe. The fae couldn’t leave the ring.
At least, Leo didn’t think he could . . .
The fae man shook his head. “You don’t remember, do you? I wondered if that might be the case. In fact, you should be glad it was just your memories you lost. Some mortals cannot touch magic without losing their sanity completely. And you ran off so quickly before . . . You left the spell incomplete, and see how it has tormented you?” He made a tsking sort of noise, like this whole situation could have been avoided—all while walking the length of the ring with a bit of a limp, and a feral look in his emerald eyes that only made him seem more menacing. A caged bear who thought his captors would make for a fine feast.
But Leo wasn’t going near the ring.
He was safe, wasn’t he?
The man smiled in a way that seemed to prove the fae could read Leo’s thoughts. All this time the cat had been wishing for someone he could communicate with more clearly, and now that he had it, he could only feel violated. “You’re right,” the fae man said. “I cannot touch you; I cannot chase you. I could call your human name in full, and it wouldn’t have the same power now that you have taken a different form. But I can wait—a lot longer than you can. And one day you will come to me, the same way you came to me before.”
Leo had come here before. He had asked for magic to counteract the plague, just like he had thought. And the fae had . . . turned him into a cat? And his mind couldn’t cope. He had lost his memories. Fine. But what now? Was he meant to stay a cat forever, even when most believed the plague had run its course?
Ainsley had just said some of the healers at the castle might have found their own cure.
“Yes, humans are never grateful. I stopped expecting that a long time ago,” the fae man said, waving a dismissive hand. “But curing the plague isn’t the same as ending it. You have been cutting at branches, but you haven’t dug out the root. You haven’t killed the one who trapped me here. It should be an easy enough task for you. The man you seek isn’t clever, only persistent. Like a mindless, rabid bear.” The fae growled as if to add emphasis to the point, and it seemed for a moment that he had also become a bear—a white bear with emerald eyes and stag horns on its head.
And while Leo might still have a few gaps in his memory, he was certain he didn’t want to do anything that would make it so the fae could leave the ring.
“Your enemy is my enemy, princeling,” the fae man said with too much teeth and a bit of a snarl. “As I told you once before, he gave me your name. He sent you to me. And now that everyone believes you are gone, who do you think he will target next? Who has your father made the heir in your place?”
Leo shook his head, backing up again as the words settled inside him. His father hadn’t named a formal heir since Leo had disappeared, but there really was only one choice. She had already reached her majority at seventeen; once she was married—or even engaged—the official announcement was sure to follow. All the terrible possibilities cycled inside his head, and soon he was sprinting back toward Castletown.
And not a second too soon. As soon as he crossed the final border of thorn trees, he caught the stink of a feral hound stalking toward the amorous miller’s son and the princess.
His sister.
Ainsley.
Chapter 24
Hellcat
Archie had his bow when the lone hound first attacked, but it had only ever been for show and snapped like useless twig after one swing. Archie hadn’t gathered up his arrows or found himself a proper staff. They had left Ainsley’s guards far behind. They had made themselves sitting ducks, and Archie could only hope he would be the only one made to suffer for his foolishness.
He dropped the broken bow and put himself in front of Ainsley, bracing himself for the tearing impact of the hound’s infected fangs.
Instead, a blur of movement streaked through the forest, rustling the leaves. Leo leapt down from the trees like a specter, claws out. He caught hold of the feral dog’s back, latching on.
“Mer-row!”
“Archie?” Ainsley said, still behind him. She should run. Or perhaps she should stay behind him—using him as a human shield for as long as she was able? Archie didn’t know, so he didn’t try to direct her. He just knew Leo was fighting a dog more than three times his size.
Archie needed a weapon.
He yanked down a branch from the tree behind him. It wasn’t much better than the old bow had been. The wood was too new, twisted, and thin. Hardly a staff at all. But he still swung it as hard as he could at the blur of movement in front of him.
The dog growled. Leo wasn’t on its back anymore, but it had slowed. It seemed to be calculating its odds with its far-too-intelligent eyes.
