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They made it a few more steps, but even as Leo started to settle into her arms, he felt the magic work again. Tabitha said he could be a cat if he wanted to be, but he didn’t like being so small. The fae prince had always called him a “little hunter” or a “little prince,” but that was another twisted manipulation. Leo no longer believed that was true.
He grew, becoming a lion larger than a bear.
Tabitha staggered. She trembled and buckled under his weight. Her gray cat fled from them. Would Tabitha run away too? He was huge. It was easy enough to charge in as a rescuer—as the one in control—but would she be brave enough to stay if the roles were reversed and she was at his mercy? Leo was deathly afraid of being trapped forever in this monstrous form, but then Tabitha shifted her hold, moving her arms out from under his legs and on to his neck—his mane.
“It’s all right,” she said. “I don’t need you to be small. You can be any size you choose—cat or prince or king of beasts. You will still be my Tom and my Leo. And if I can’t carry you, then you will carry me.” She climbed onto his back, like she had always belonged there.
She did belong there. Leo was happy to carry her. He wanted their bond to continue, and so did she. Tabitha even got the gray cat to return to walking at their side.
Leo continued a few more steps, looking at his front paws as they crushed through the forest loam. The claws and fangs were fine weapons and had served him well. Perhaps they would be even better now that he was larger. Tabitha had been hurt before too. She would understand if Leo wanted to keep a weapon at his side. But he wanted hands that could be more than weapons. If he couldn’t let this defensive part of him go, his bond with Tabitha might still exist, but their relationship would be limited.
Leo didn’t want to be a cat. He never wanted to be Tabitha’s pet or master.
He wanted to hold her hand.
She giggled when his form shifted again, becoming some kind of ape. Leo wanted to laugh too. They could hold hands now, but the fur was ridiculous. He had never wanted it.
I am not a cat. The fae man had forced himself into Leo’s mind, twisting it to suit his own designs, but Tabitha would accept any form Leo took and find a way to adapt herself to it. She could make anything seem beautiful; she steadied him, anchored him, and called him home.
The process continued. Leo became cats of every size. He became a bull, a rat, and for one bizarre moment, a waddling bird with black-and-white feathers. Sometimes, he was small, and Tabitha carried him. Sometimes, he was large, and he carried her. But Leo knew which bond he preferred, releasing one to hold more tightly to the other.
And they left the forest as two humans, a man and a woman, holding hands together.
Chapter 33
The Cat Came Back
Archie’s life had become a faerie story, and he was about to marry his princess with the sun shining down from a cloudless sky, the castle grounds open to welcome noble and common guests from all corners of the kingdom. They stood together on the same dais where they had once performed Anderdolf, and it seemed rather fitting. Ainsley had once told him that most of the official tasks they would be asked to do as nobles could be seen as another play—a performance of a perfect princess. And now her marriage to her “Ogre-slaying Champion.” Thinking of it in that light, it wasn’t so bad, and Archie thought he performed his part adequately.
Hold that.
Stand there.
Recite this.
But when he looked across the stage at his perfect princess—the illusion that had once held him spellbound—he couldn’t help but think of all the ways that image paled when compared to the fiery young woman behind her courtly mask.
That woman deserved more than to perform for a crowd on her wedding day.
So, he dropped the scripted vows he had painstakingly memorized and spoke the words that had become engraved upon his heart. “Ainsley, I love you. And while most see you only as the Princess of Umbrae, I want you to know that it was never the height of your stature that won me over but the tenderness of your soul.”
Ainsley smiled and squeezed his hand, ready to follow his lead. “And I would be happy to be a goose girl or baker’s daughter, just so long as I get to hold the hand of my miller boy.”
They kissed, and a cheer rose from the crowd of Charity House Children that sounded suspiciously like nine-year-old Sophie. The matron assisting with the ceremony pursed her lips in protest, and the king sighed in a long-suffering fashion, but the rest of the proceedings continued without a hitch. They bowed and stood and walked together, as two separate creatures choosing to become one.
Then there was the celebration that followed.
Ribbons twisted to and fro in a mix of peasant and courtly dances. Despite his hopes rekindling with Tabitha, Archie had given up his dream of toasting his bride with the public appearance of her noble brother, but as he watched Ainsley dance with her father, he didn’t think the princess was faking her smile.
Perhaps for now, that would have to be enough.
His eyes scanned the crowd again. His brothers were here; Rupert shamelessly using Archie’s name to make more connections and pushing his expanding business on the more noble circles while Harris seemed perfectly content to share a dance with a young woman he had met in Carabus.
Archie turned from them to watch the forest gnomes sitting on the banquet table, eating radishes half their size.
Then a hooded figure came to stand behind him with cat-like grace. In such a large and diverse crowd, his appearance wasn’t quite as concerning as it could have been, but Archie still made eye contact with Sir Callum and checked to make certain his purely-ceremonial-but-still-solid-enough-to-be-used-as-a-club-if-necessary sword was in reach.
“Not bad,” the man said in a courtly sort of drawl that would never match his attempts at a more common appearance. “A bit sappy for my taste, but not bad.”
