Shadows & Secrets part 2
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C
Cáit sighed and stretched her arms, working out the stiffness peeling and slicing apples had created. It had been a chore, but an enjoyable one with Maeve for company. The apples would head to the presses next and would be turned into various ciders for the upcoming festival next month.
A glance out the kitchen window showed her it was almost time for dinner, the sky having shifted to a fiery amber. With a quick goodbye to her friend, she hurried across the street and into her father’s manor. Luckily, it would just be the two of them so Cáit didn’t bother going to her room to change into one of the frilly dresses that always made her feel like an overly decorated cake. She pushed the door to the dining hall open and saw her father striding towards his own seat.
“Good evening, father,” she greeted warmly. The words had their usual effect, though she noticed the signs of exhaustion in his eyes and smile. His embrace was as warm and firm as ever, his chuckle rumbling through her.
“My little wild kitten,” he replied, “you could try not vexing Master Ardal everyday.” She could hear the amusement in his voice and knew she was not in trouble.
“It’s not everyday,” she countered, “it was just finally sunny again. With autumn approaching there will be so few days like today to enjoy before we get buried in snow.” It was a bit of an exaggeration, she knew, as they got barely more than a few inches in winter, but she loathed the cold, dark days, preferring the warm, sun-drenched summers full of flowers. Her father chuckled again, tousling her hair affectionately.
“Fair enough, kitten,” he said softly, “You’re mother was the same way. She would have stayed buried under dozens of blankets all winter long if I’d let her.” His voice became wistful at the end, her mother’s disappearance still haunting him. Some had whispered she had chaffed under the duties required of a lady and simply fled one night. Others worried she had been kidnapped, stolen from her bed by the Fae. Cáit had never told anyone her mother had visited her room that night. She had cried out during a nightmare and her mother had come, all soft and soothing. Just as she was falling asleep her mother had whispered something to her, something important, but that she was to tell no one. She had listened, keeping the secret from her father and best friend, though it hurt to do so.
Dinner was a cozy, informal affair, her father taking the time to thank each of the servants by name as they brought in the various courses. Cáit knew her father wasn’t like other lords in that regard. He treated them more as extended family than simply hired staff and they loved him for it. The proof of that devotion had been made evident two years ago when a poor harvest had practically bankrupted them. Her father had spent all he could to ship stores of grain and food to their village so that none would starve that winter, but that left him with nothing to pay his servants with. They had simply continued to work hard each day as if there wasn’t an issue. Funds had eventually been replenished and pay had resumed, but she would never forget the way they had stood by him that winter, supporting him as he supported the village.
Meal finished, Cáit wished her father good night and headed to her rooms. She sighed as she entered, a tired, but content sound. She plucked her hairbrush from her vanity and slipped into her bedroom. She changed into her favorite nightgown, a soft grass green shift that matched her eyes, and sat down on the bottom of her bed, unaware of the audience she had.
D
The sound of a door closing jolted him awake. He had not planned to sleep hidden beneath the pillows, but the soft, warm cocoon of blankets had made him drowsy. Peering out of his cozy cave, he saw the female open a large wardrobe. He saw the expected finery most ladies wore, yet she had opted for a simpler dress made of sturdy fabric. Far more practical for adventures he reasoned with a smile.
His eyes widened as he saw her remove the dress, exposing far more skin than he was accustomed to seeing. Fae were far from modest creatures, but his father’s court had few females and they tended to wear form fitting leathers that covered almost every inch of them. He found himself torn between giving her the privacy she should have and drinking in every inch of her lightly freckled form. He compromised, drinking in the view until her hands went to the garments hiding her more private parts. His gaze stayed firmly on the design of a pillow until he felt the bed shift.
He noticed she wore a simple green shift, similar in color to the grass he had hidden in. He watched as she began brushing her soft brown hair and was instantly mesmerized by the sparkling strands of gold and coppery hidden in her waves of curls. She began humming, the gently lilting melody soothing him to such an extent that he found himself kneading the blankets and purring.
His purr alerted her to his presence and she turned towards his hiding place. He knew he should flee, travel the shadows and be away before she discovered him. Yet he didn’t move, simply stopped his kneading and purring.
“My bedroom was not what I had in mind when I suggested you hunt elsewhere,” she said softly, her voice a gentle chiding devoid of anger or fear. He was surprised by the lack and hesitantly pushed his face out of his cave. He was further surprised when she responded with a smile and a question. “How is your leg feeling?”
He considered pretending he didn’t understand, but knew it was too late for it. He could avoid speaking, but this felt like an opportunity to get the answers he needed. Instead, he assessed his leg, but it felt badly off. He pulled himself out of the cocoon and winced. It had swollen and pus had discolored the bandage. A gasp from the female told him it looked bad to her too. Like in the woods, she went immediately to work, rushing out the room to gather various ingredients. Peeling off the bandage had hurt, but her touch was gentle as it probed and cleaned.
The worst part had been the smell, an acrid, putrid odor that assaulted his delicate nose and made his stomach churn. He forced himself to watch her work and noticed small reddish brown flakes were in the pus.
“Seems you found one of the older traps,” she murmured, “or perhaps the recent rains were enough for the iron to rust. I should have cleaned it more carefully before.” He blinked, surprised. His own father would have likely left him to rot in those woods for his foolishness and yet here this female was feeling guilty for not providing flawless care.
“I do not blame you for the oversight,” he said, softly nuzzling her hand as she finished tying the fresh bandage. She barely jumped at his words, seeming more surprised by what he said than by the fact he spoke.
“That is kind of you to say, but the fault remains,” her curls bounced as she shook her head, “I will do better in the future.” He watched her realize something, her face turning red. “You… you were here as I…”. His eyes widened as he followed her line of thought.
“I…” he stammered, grateful his malk’s fur hid his own redness, “I looked away when you… you reached for your under… things.” Mortified, he buried his face in his paws.
C
Adorable was the word that popped into her head at the sight of the clearly mortified Fae. After such gruesome work cleaning the putrid wounds, it felt almost comical and she found herself giggling. His tufted ears perked at the sound and one emerald eye cracked open to glare at her. It only made her laugh harder and soon she was on her side giggling uncontrollably.
A soft knock sounding at her door quelled her laughter and she quickly scurried to answer it. It was one of the night staff, a girl a few years younger than her. Cáit assured her that her laughter had merely been the result of a humorous twist in one of her books and the girl left with a dainty nod.
Shutting the door with a soft click, Cáit returned to her bedroom and her unexpected guest. She knew she should be terrified there was a Fae male in her bedroom considering the stories she had heard, but she found herself oddly at ease with him aside from the brief span she’d thought he’d seen her naked. She found him still curled up on her bed, his fluffy black tail curled around him as he groomed a paw. She watched him at the doorway, his pink tongue combing the dark fur, then his paw wiped his face. Long, white whiskers were meticulously cleaned along with the rest of his face.
“I believe humans consider it rude to stare,” he commented quietly, “but perhaps I’m mistaken.” His green eyes seemed to glow as he turned to face her. She met that inhuman gaze without fear and he blinked slowly in response. “The woman called you Lady Cat before, an unusual name for a human is it not?”
“It’s spelled differently,” she explained, “but yes, my name is Cáit. Unusual, perhaps, but according to my father, my mother insisted on it rather strongly. What may I call you?” She had read somewhere that Fae names held power and that it was a grave insult to ask for their name.
“Likely read about Fae names in one of your adventure stories,” he mused, chuckling. “It’s only for lesser Fae, though some high Fae will use the supposed insult as a pretense for mischief.” He flicked his tail and dipped his head, “I am Deryn, son of Caedryn, High Lord of the Cat Sith.” Cáit swallowed hard, suddenly nervous. This wasn’t just a Fae male at all she realized, but likely one of the most dangerous Fae possible. Yet he had been badly hurt, she reminded herself. Squaring her shoulders, she entered the bedroom, hoping he couldn’t smell her nervousness.
“Well Lord Deryn,” she said, “I’m afraid you’ll need to sleep on the armchair if you plan to stay. It would be improper to share the bed.”
D
Wrong, his brain clamored as the sharp tang of fear hit his nose. He had never been bothered by anyone fearing him before, yet scenting it on this female had every instinct in him wanting to attack the cause. The cause though, was clearly him and it made him miserable.
She stood tall, her body language projecting calm confidence as she had announced she was kicking him off the bed. Improper she had called it, which made his face heat beneath his fur. He would have tried making her blush again with some indecent joke if he hadn’t been struck by that horrible smell. She feared him now and he wondered what she had read to cause such dread. He had to admit it was a smart reaction, his father’s court was feared by even other high Fae, but it made his skin itch to have her fear him.
“I’m not my father,” he whispered as he climbed off the bed and made his way out of the bedroom, his body drooping dejectedly from ear tufts to tail. He hopped onto the armchair and wrapped his tail around himself, a chill shivering through him though the room was warm. He had grown up wishing to be more like his father, like his brother, but tonight it felt wrong. He didn’t want to be feared by someone so gentle, so willing to care, to help. His father would have been all claws and teeth, demanding every scrap of information about the iron, then likely killing her. No, he decided firmly, he would never be like his father. Another shiver shook him and he curled himself tighter.
He woke cocooned in a soft blanket, a hand gently stroking his back. He felt cold though his paws were sweating. He cracked open his eyes, but everything was blurry. He blinked repeatedly, but his vision didn’t clear and he felt dizzy.
“You have a fever,” Cáit told him, her voice low and soothing, “I thought Fae couldn’t get sick.” His tongue felt leaden, his body weak. She was right, Fae had extraordinary healing ability and he had never had so much as a cold in his long life. He imagined the iron was to blame, but to give a human knowledge of such a weakness was incredibly risky. If it wasn’t used as a weapon now, it soon would be. His father would expect him to die rather than give up such knowledge.
“That trap,” he croaked, his throat raw, “the iron it… messed with my magic, my healing.” He was too weak to say more and gently nuzzled into her, his eyes closing again. The stroking was a comfort and lulled him back to sleep.
When he woke again she was holding a small dish of liquid that smelled like chicken for him. His vision seemed slightly clearer, but his body struggled to respond. With her assistance he managed to lap up the broth before slipping back into a dreamless sleep.
The third time he woke, his vision was back to normal and his body was no longer chilled, though he was exhausted. He glanced about the room and realized he was alone. Cáit had brought him back to the bedroom at some point, for he was back on the bed wrapped in a soft blanket. Pink-tinged sunlight seeped in from the other room, the bedroom door left ajar likely for his convenience. A door closing and approaching footsteps announced her return from wherever she had gone.
He watched the door swing open and Cáit step inside, a tray of food in hand. He perked up at the smell of sausage, his nose twitching excitedly.
C
Relief and amusement mingled as she pushed the bedroom door open with her foot, her hands full with a tray of food she hoped her patient liked. Something was definitely a hit on the tray as she watched him perk up, his little nose twitching furiously. He was definitely more alert, his green eyes finally clear again.
He had seemed so dejected when he left her bedroom last night, yet she didn’t think it was because she had kicked him out. She had a feeling her nervousness and fear had been the reason he whispered that he was not his father before slinking sadly away. It hadn’t felt right after he had left so she went to check on him. He was curled up in a tight ball on the armchair, shivering and trembling. At first, she had thought maybe he was crying, but he didn’t respond to her voice or touch. The skin beneath his fur had radiated heat into her hand and she immediately knew something was terribly wrong.
Panic and worry had kept her going all night without sleep as she did all she could to ease the fever. The iron of the trap had messed with his Fae healing he had said. She had not read anything about such a weakness, but she had a feeling that may be due to the newness of the metal. She imagined the lingering flakes in the wounds had likely not helped.
All seemed to be well now as she approached the bed. Cáit could tell he was still exhausted, for he had not risen from his blanket nest, but his alertness made her hopeful the worst was over. She placed the tray before him, ready to help him however he needed.
“I wasn’t sure what you’d like for breakfast,” she told him, “so I had a little of everything made.” It had been an odd conversation with the kitchen staff to be sure, but they had done as she asked and promised to keep her request a secret. She watched his little nose as he investigated each of the dishes. Everything had been finely chopped or mashed and placed in shallow bowls. She watched as the dish of sausage was the first to be devoured followed surprisingly by the mashed up apple. The eggs and shredded chicken were also happily eaten though he snubbed the grapes and cheese so she nibbled at them instead.
She felt hesitant to touch him now that he wasn’t delirious with fever. He had no such hesitation however and nuzzled her cheek as she lay half dozing beside him. She smiled and ran a hand along his back, happy to find he no longer was overly warm. The adrenaline finally ebbing from her, she felt her eyes grow steadily heavier until she closed them.
Continue Reading: Part 3
How is everyone liking this story so far? For those curious, the food preferences are straight from the cats I’ve had over the years. Two of them, both males, loved apples and would frequently steal slices which I found unusual, but read is perfectly safe.
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