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And even if Leo had tried to run, he wasn’t sure he would have been able to.
“So, princeling, you have rid your kingdom of the plague, and, as promised, no more harm has come to your family or your kingdom. You were even able to select another heir to the throne. Now are you ready for your reward?”
Only if it involved turning him back into a human and sending him on his way, but Leo doubted he would ever be so lucky.
The fae clicked his tongue. “There is no need to be so cynical. You only were miserable as a cat because I wasn’t at my full strength, and you fought me at the end. I didn’t give you a new name to match your new form, and I didn’t adjust as your more feline instincts came into play. I don’t intend to leave any threads loose this time, so I can promise you will enjoy your new role immensely.”
Leo wasn’t so sure about that, but once he heard his full name again on the lips of the fae, he knew he didn’t have a choice. This fae man had changed him into a cat.
He could make Leo become whatever he wanted.
And perhaps only in his dreams would he ever be Tom or Leo again.
Chapter 31
Catalyst
The charging black bear’s fur hung in thick patches. Madness shone from its dull, dilated gaze. And the tell-tale sign of lime-green venom coated its fangs. The gnomes had been right. This was another plague beast bred by the Ogre Marquis—though it wasn’t hard to see why it had been abandoned in the ogre’s quest to bring down Castletown. Bears were too solitary. Too isolated. This one lived in a cave bordering the Darkwood and wouldn’t have been a problem at all if its matchless hunger hadn’t brought it to harass the local forest gnomes.
And if its last raid hadn’t brought those same gnomes to petition their personal “giant” for assistance.
Archie still didn’t know how he felt about that arrangement, but he had been eager to hunt down the beast, still searching the borders of the kingdom for any more signs of the Ogre Marquis’s leftover magic even three years after the ogre’s death. He gripped the sword, well-worn calluses under his hunting gloves. Parrying the bear’s wild slashes, he drew a crimson line across its flank and then its hide. He had never fully mastered the bow, but the sword, he liked.
The plague beast bellowed—weakly. This was becoming far too easy.
At this point, the killing blow would only be a mercy.
Archie raised his sword. A rush of air swept past his cloak. Out from the cursed creature’s chest bloomed the feathered fletching of an arrow. The bear staggered back, giving its final death cry. Before it could fully hit the ground, Archie turned to face the familiar archer.
“Ainsley.” He couldn’t even pretend to be surprised.
The princess, standing beside her mounted guard and her own horse, held her chin high in triumph. The breeze seemed to catch her cloak and riding skirts just right, and her auburn hair was braided around her head as regally as a crown. “Good morning, darling. I don’t suppose you were trying to kill the beast without me?”
“Of course not.” Archie still wasn’t much for courtly responses, but he allowed himself a touch of irony on occasion to match the quick-tongued princess. “I know how much you enjoy the hunt.”
Ainsley brightened with her approval. “Don’t worry. I still don’t like the blood. I’ll have Sir Callum mount it on your wall and tell my father the kill was yours.”
Archie shook his head. “And I will tell him that the kill was yours.” They might be teasing, but Archie had become comfortable in his fur-lined boots. At the king’s direction, he had spent the last three years training under the tutelage of other knights and noble huntsmen, and his trophy room was already full. He had no need to even pretend to claim a victory that wasn’t his own.
“And then he’ll be furious with us both,” Ainsley said, still with a much-too-satisfied smile. But then that smile wavered as her amber eyes found the fallen creature’s den behind him. “That is, unless . . .” Her words stopped, but her wary expression supplied the rest.
Her father would be furious . . . unless it worked.
Her father would be furious . . . unless they had actually found something.
No, Archie didn’t imagine the king would truly be furious either way. The king continued to be entirely reasonable in his dealings with his heirs so long as they were honest with him. This fact had even made Archie the favored “child” on occasion as Ainsley was the more likely culprit when it came to embellishing the truth in recent days. But even the most tyrannical version of King Randolph would falter if the slaying of this final beast gave them the answers they all wished for.
That elusive hope—and fear—permeated the air, smothering any sense of levity. This small cave could hold their salvation or an extension of their current suffering.
And there was only one way to find out which.
Archie bowed, trying to restore his smile. “Well, my lady huntress, the spoils are rightly yours. Would you like to go first?”
“We’ll go together.” Ainsley, with her bow already stowed away, waved back her guard and took Archie’s hand. Her father had hoped Archie would be her champion, but the fiery princess rarely needed him to slay any actual monsters for her.
Still, she was rather possessive of his hand.
Her grip quickly tightened when they took the few short steps to the den that was far too small to require an actual search. Bones, fur, and rancid meat lay scattered on the ground. A rudimentary horde of tarnished armor and colored glass proved the bear had been only slightly more intelligent than a magpie. But there were no signs of any misplaced cats, princes, or any other clues as to Leo’s current whereabouts. No final sign that the curse on their land was at an end.
