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Instead, Leo picked up one of the stray arrows from the ground and carried it over to the hares pointedly.
Archie’s golden-brown eyes widened in understanding. “You want me to say I shot them? Try to make my fortune as a huntsman?” He paused, considering the trees in the distance. “But no one can hunt the faerie’s forest without the crown’s permission. I might get away with it for a while—as long as I’m only hunting rabbits or quail—but if I really want to make my fortune, I would need to go to the castle and petition the king.”
Yes, perhaps the boy could be taught, but they still had a lot more work to do before Archie could pass as a decent huntsman.
And Leo desperately needed to get his new human a decent pair of shoes.
* * *
Petition the king. Archie had an old wheat sack full of freshly caught snowshoe hares on his back, and he was going to petition the king. The words paraded across his mind in repeat, gaining more power with every pass. He wasn’t sure what he thought would happen once he decided to throw his lot in with the cat. Perhaps he had some passing fancy of them both putting on some sort of bard show, the cat doing tricks to prove his intelligence and earn them both some coin? Or perhaps they could hire themselves out as more professional rat catchers?
But Archie should have known Leo would never go for something demeaning and common like that—that Archie would be the one doing tricks on command—but he never thought he would have to do something quite as grand as all this.
More than Archie ever dreamed.
But hopefully Leo knew what he was doing? Archie certainly didn’t.
In a bit of a daze, he followed after the cat until it stopped in front of a ramshackle shop on the outskirts of Castletown. “R-row.”
Archie frowned at the brightly attired manikins in the window. “That’s a dress shop.” More of a second-hand dress shop at that. What did that have to do with hunting or petitioning the king?
Did cats—magical or otherwise—even understand about hunting charters? Leo seemed to know everything else, but still—
“Oh, there you are, Tom,” a young woman said with a bright smile in her voice. She had been standing near the front of the shop and offering a tray of scraps to her collection of stray cats. Right now, she had two. One spotted, one striped. “You brought a friend today.”
It took Archie a moment to understand the young woman was talking to Leo and Archie was the friend in question. In fact, Archie had seen Tabitha in town and assisting at the second-hand shop before, but she was usually much more reserved, only having eyes for her cats.
Should Archie still insert himself into the conversation?
It would seem he would have to, because for all of the cat’s apparent wisdom and magic, Leo still didn’t talk. Archie shifted the sack on his back. “Yes, I’m Archie. The miller’s son. We—I—caught some rabbits, and we were going to petition the king about a hunting charter, but—”
“I see.” The girl’s blue eyes brightened, quickly marking his lack of shoes and fraying pants. “You two are going out on an adventure, but you can’t go to see the king dressed like that. If you want him to believe you could be a huntsman, you have to look like one.”
“Mer-row!” Leo cried, as if thrilled that was one less concept he would have to somehow communicate to Archie through pantomime, and Tabitha reached down to pet him.
Dread shot down Archie’s spine. His hand twitched in her defense. “Don’t do that! Leo, he . . . he . . .” Archie trailed off. The ornery tabby cat leaned into the girl’s hand, accepting pets without a bit of his usual ire, and Archie couldn’t help but stare.
“Don’t worry, Tom,” Tabitha said, still stroking the cat and barely giving Archie any notice. “I’ll help your friend, no problem. We sell mostly dresses here, but my mistress has strong contacts with the tanners, and we have some fashions for gentlemen too.”
Archie shook his head. “He said his name is Leo, actually,” he said, though the words came out weak. The cat, still perfectly calm, was giving him one of those looks. The kind Archie often got from his father and hoped never to receive again. The kind that said, “Close your mouth and stop embarrassing yourself.”
Too late.
“He says?” Tabitha’s eyebrows furrowed, but she laughed again before Archie could be too embarrassed. “Don’t worry. I’m a bit mad about cats myself. And it certainly suits him. Tom’s always so regal. And one of the best mousers around.”
Leo rubbed his face against the girl’s ankle-boots in appreciation. He even purred. They really must be friends. Archie had never seen Leo act so open to human attention; it seemed as strange as hearing Tabitha talk, and Archie couldn’t help but continue in the same madcap fashion.
“You saw it too? The way he used to line up all the plague rats in front of the castle gates after he killed them?”
Tabitha bobbed her head in a playful sort of curtsy. “He certainly did us a good turn, that’s for sure. Prince of all the Mousers. And any friend of his is more than welcome in our shop.” She turned away from the cats to stick her key in the door.
“Well, I don’t have much money. Just the rabbits I caught.” Archie did his best not to look at Leo that time, though he had no idea how long he could last as a huntsman who couldn’t hunt.
He would just have to keep trying.
Archie undid the sack for the girl to see. Tabitha nodded again, opening the door and gesturing for them to follow her into the shop—the place as cluttered and erratically decorated as a witch’s hut. “I can certainly talk to the tanners and get you some nice hunting boots for that. And maybe I could use the hares to line one of our cloaks, if you have some time? Come on in, and we’ll see what we can find.”
Chapter 6
