He’s not eating.
How is the narcotic powder Puss gave me to pass to the kitchen brownie supposed to work if the ogre hasn’t touched his food? And has she even had a chance to find it? I was hoping she’d slip it into his pie, maybe sprinkle it into his dessert wine.
The thoughts are forgotten when the dwarf comes in, pulling with him a woman smaller than he is, hidden under a simple brown cloak. She whimpers, terrified of being seen by this many eyes. The ogre, showing no pity on her, drags her hood down.
She cringes, trying to hide her pale face with her hands, but it’s to no avail because we’ve all seen her now.
The brownie resembles a dwarf, but softer, with more rounded features. Her cheeks are rosy and slightly wrinkled, and her eyes are bright, bright blue. I have no idea what age she may be as brownies can live for hundreds of years.
It’s possible she haunted the kitchens while my father was but a boy.
The ogre yanks the dagger from the table and holds it to her throat. “You know how the girl escaped. Tell me.”
She makes a soft noise, an obvious refusal, and the ogre pushes the blade closer. A small trickle of dark red blood trails down her neck, and anger builds in my core.
“Tell me!” he yells, making her tremble anew.
“Etta carried the cat,” I snarl. “His immunity to your magic passed to her, and she stepped right through your ward.”
For one moment, I think he may slit the poor creature’s throat even though I’ve told him, but he tosses her away. A dwarven server runs forward, clutching the brownie in her arms. Without asking for permission, she ushers the tiny, trembling woman out the side door.
The ogre’s eyes flash, and he turns toward the guard at his left. “The cat lurks somewhere in the castle. I want it found and gutted. I’ll have it for breakfast tomorrow.” He turns his attention back to me. “And then you can have the fur made into a muff—a gift for Etta for when she returns.”
It takes everything in me to keep from glancing at the plant in the corner.
The guard leaves and an unnatural silence falls over the room.
Without the help of Puss’s mind-addling poison to take away the ogre’s inhibitions, I’m not sure I can pull this off. But I have no choice.
“It’s good you surround yourself with guards and dwarves, Ogre.” I purposefully meet his eyes. “Because it seems you are not as powerful as you want people to believe.”
The expressions that pass over the men’s faces who stand along the wall would be comical if my death weren’t imminent.
Slowly, deliberately, the ogre leans toward me. “What did you say?”
“I said it appears you hide behind your guards and dwarves, too weak to fight your own battles.” I wait a moment before continuing. “For a shape-shifter, you’re rather pathetic. After all, your greatest power is to change into a human. Not terribly impressive, really.”
“Leave us,” the ogre says to his men. Clenching his gruesome jaw, the ogre leans forward. “I can change into anything I please.”
The guards look at me with something akin to pity as they filter out of the room, knowing that I’ve cheerfully, and foolishly, signed my death warrant.
“Perhaps,” I shrug and then look at my plate as if bored. “What about a…lion? I don’t believe you can change into something that mighty. Surely you wouldn’t need this much protection if you could.”
The speed in which he shifts nearly stops my heart. One moment I’m talking to him, the next a gigantic feline prowls over the long dining room table, batting plates aside and growling as he stalks toward me.
Scooting my chair back, properly terrified, I quickly say, “Apparently I was wrong.”
The lion still appears as if he’s going to attack.
“A lion is impressive, yes, but what about an elephant?” I continue. “Can you change into a beast that large? Surely not.”
With a loud crack and flying wood, the table collapses as the lion morphs into a creature so gigantic, there is scarcely room for him. Dishes, settings, and candelabras fly this way and that.
The elephant holds a huge foot over me. “Are you impressed yet, Carabas?”
“Quite,” I squeak and then clear my throat. “But, now that I think of it, it’s only natural that a large creature such as yourself can change into other large creatures. Not that difficult, really.”
Slowly, the ogre-elephant lowers his foot, looking as if he’s about to gore me with his tusks.
Standing, hoping to put a little distance between me and the beast, I add, “But to change into something tiny, something insignificant—now that would be a feat.”
“Like what, Carabas?” the ogre glares at me with foreign eyes. “A rabbit? A grouse?”
I shrug. “Certainly, but what about something as tiny as…a mouse? That would be quite impossible, would it not?”
And just like that, the elephant is gone, vanished before my very eyes. I frantically look for him in the broken plates, splintered table, and mess of molten wax on the floor. Before I even spot the rodent the ogre shifted into, Puss leaps into the middle of the mess, pouncing with outstretched paws and a greedy look in his bright green eyes.
A tiny gray tail disappears into the cat’s mouth, and that is my very last glimpse of the ogre.
I stare at Puss with disbelief. The world slows, and the steady thrum of the grandfather clock in the corner is the only thing that tells me that time hasn’t actually stopped.
“It worked,” I say dumbly when I find my voice.
“Of course it worked,” the cat scoffs, licking his chops in a very satisfied sort of way. He begins to lick his paw and proceeds to groom his face. “It was my idea.”
When I step into the hall, humans and dwarves both gape at me, obviously not expecting that I should be the one to return after the chaos they heard through the door.
I cross my arms and clear my throat, unnerved by their undivided attention.
Puss saunters past me, undaunted, and announces, “Open the drapes, clean the windows. Fill the vases and polish the good silver. Captain Gregory?”
An older guard who I’d never bothered to learn the name of snaps to attention, looking bewildered. “Yes…Cat?”
“Spread the word. The ogre has been vanquished and the Marquis of Carabas has returned.”
As the growing crowd gasps at the cat’s bold declaration, the guard blinks, his memory slowly filling in the blanks caused by the ogre’s magic. He turns to me, eyes narrowed with disbelief, more concerned with my title than the talking. “My lord? I do not know you.”
Puss glares at me, and I stand taller.
“I am Bradley Marchand’s son—and your new marquis.”
At my words, the men in attendance bow. The dwarves, of course, do not, but I do believe we’ve earned their admiration by defeating the monster holding them captive.
One steps forward. His dark brown eyes are nearly hidden under his massive black beard and mustache. “Congratulations on your victory, My Lord Carabas. After all this time, my kind shall be taking our leave. Our sincerest thanks.” He clasps a hand over his heart and bows his head.
“Why did he keep you here…” I ask but trail off as I look through the newly opened windows and see dwarves and fairies already testing the wards and yelling with joy when they find they are able to cross the drawbridge.
The dwarf scowls. “He couldn’t hold this much magic on his own. He captured creatures of magic—drained us to hold his spells—including the one that locked us here.”
“He used your own magic to hold you prisoner?”
He nods. “Again, we are very grateful to you.”
When the dwarf steps back, Puss growls at our audience. “What are you waiting for? Tonight we entertain a king!”
The remaining crowd of mostly humans snaps to attention, and they scurry off, all tending to the cat’s commands.
“A king?” I ask Puss, incredulous.
He gives me a feline smile, a
lready proud of himself. “What day is it, Beau?”
I shake my head, unable to follow his strange line of thought. “The third of April, I believe.”
Satisfied, he says, “Etta is already on her way.”
Chapter 46
“I’ve forgotten my gloves!” Sabine says, pushing past me as she rushes from the carriage. Her golden curls bounce in the sun as she calls back over her shoulder, “I’ll only be a moment!”
I’m anxious, ready to begin our journey, and even though I’m fond of the princess, I’d rather leave her here.
“Tell me again why she’s coming?” I ask Kerrick.
“Because she wants to see the countryside,” the king answers instead.
I glance out the window at the soldiers on horseback, who are ready to accompany us to the ogre’s gates. The plumes on their hats dance in the breeze, and their rapiers, secure in baldrics, glint at their sides. Each wear sashes of different colors, denoting their rank in His Majesty’s army.
“You and she will stay safe in the carriage,” the king assures me.
Still thinking it’s foolish, I sit against the velvet upholstered seat and wait for the princess to return. Soon, Sabine rushes into the courtyard, today a vision in lavender silk and ivory lace. The footman helps her into the carriage, and she takes her place next to Kerrick, practically smothering him with the bountiful fabric of her skirts.
She smiles at me, obviously excited for the adventure, and daintily pulls on her gloves.
We finally begin our journey. It will take most of the day, and we’re already getting a later start than I would like. At this rate, we’ll reach the Carabas land well after dark.
By the time the sun sets, however, I realize I was wrong. We’re still hours away, and Sabine’s already yawning.
Much to my dismay, we stop at a grand castle belonging to Kerrick’s cousin.
“We can’t stop now!” I hiss to the prince as the rest of our party mingles with the nobles and their men.
Kerrick crosses his arms. “You had to know we wouldn’t make it all in one day.”
“Beau and I did,” I insist.
“Yes, but you were traveling far lighter.”
Glancing around the courtyard, my eyes wander over our ridiculously large party.
“Get some sleep,” Kerrick says. “We’ll be there tomorrow.”
Though my room is opulent and my bed is downy, I barely sleep at all. In the morning, we begin the routine again, but this time, our numbers have somehow grown.
Finally, late in the afternoon, we enter Carabas land. I lean out the window, trying to get a glimpse of the castle ahead of us. Instead, my eyes stray to the farmers working the early spring fields.
“Who does this land belong to?” the king calls out.
A nearby farmer and his wife look up, smiles on their faces. “The Marquis of Carabas, My Lord.”
I suck in a gasp and nearly throw myself out of the moving carriage. The king, Kerrick, and Sabine all holler at me to come back, but I run toward the couple.
The pair gawks at me, their eyes drifting to the hem of my gown, which is now coated with mud.
“What has happened to Lord Mattis?” I demand.
“The curse has been lifted—the ogre is dead,” the man says. “The Marquis has returned.”
Squealing in the most unladylike sort of way, I rush back to the carriage. The nobles stare at me, surprised.
“Hurry,” I urge, ignoring the footman’s outstretched hand as I leap up the stairs. “He’s done it. Beau’s killed the ogre!”
The king and Kerrick look unsure, but Sabine is taken in with my enthusiasm, and she beams at me. Her little dog jumps from the princess’s lap onto mine and then back again, yapping.
We slow as we grow near the drawbridge, but a guard calls down to us, “You are very welcome, Your Majesty. The marquis is expecting you.”
I’m the first out of the carriage, and I scan the courtyard, searching for Beau. I don’t look long. He’s standing at the entrance, his arms behind his back, a solemn look on his face.
But when he sees me, his eyes brighten and he runs forward, catching me in his arms. Laughing, I hold him tight.
“How did you do it?” I ask, burying my face in the crook of his neck.
“It was Puss.” He pulls me back, studying my face as if he’s drinking me in.
As I stand here, astonished, Beau tells me how the ogre met his end.
I look around the courtyard. “Where are all the dwarves?” The trees are quiet as well. “And the fairies.”
Beau’s expression softens. “Most are gone, though a few linger. They are free.”
“As are you,” I murmur.
Just as he’s about to speak, we’re interrupted by the others. Beau releases me and bows to the king.
“I hear you’ve rid yourself of an ogre,” His Majesty says, grinning. “It seems we have traveled all this way for nothing.”
“Not for nothing, Your Majesty,” Beau says. He turns to me, his expression hopeful but his eyes betraying his nervousness. “You once said you wanted to see the home of the Marquise of Carabas.”
My heart stutters. “What are you saying?”
Beau smiles, hopeful. “Marry me, Etta.”
Agreeing, I leap into his arms.
“Enough of this,” Puss says, taking more than a few people by surprise. “A feast has been prepared in the king’s honor. Let’s not let it grow cold.”
Chapter 47
The sea stretches out in front of us, full of infinite opportunities. I lean on the railing, taking it in. Behind me, Beau and Thomas argue about which island we should visit next.
We met with Thomas at a port city near the coast, and my brother agreed to travel with us for a time. So far we’ve bought chocolate, spices, and coffee, and I’ve seen places I’ve never dreamed of.
Beau says we’ll return home in a few months, back to the Carabas estate. Eugene and Sarah-Anne live there now, away from Monsieur Broussard and the mill that’s full of sad memories. Eugene has stepped into the role of Beau’s steward, and the position fits my brother well.
Beau’s ship rocks with the waves, and it seems eager to be away from the dock.
“You look very serious.” Beau kisses my shoulder and wraps his arms around my waist.
I glance back at my new husband. “Only happy.”
He hands me a paper-wrapped package. “A runner has just brought your purchase. Can we leave now?”
Peeling back the paper, I take a peek in the parcel and smile. Standing on my toes, I press a soft kiss to Beau’s lips. “Now we can.”
I leave Beau on the deck and make my way to the captain’s cabin, where Puss has taken up residence. I find him stretched out in the middle of the bed, cuddled into the silken cover. A half-drank bowl of cream sits on the table, but the plate holding his fish breakfast has been licked clean.
“I have something for you,” I say as I sit next to him.
He peeks his eyes open, trying to decide if my gift is worth waking up for. I set the package in front of him and slowly pull back the paper, revealing a tiny pair of boots. Curious, now awake, Puss sniffs the gift and then turns his attention toward me. “Boots?”
“And a tiny hat.” I hold it up for him to inspect. “Complete with a little feather.”
Puss looks at the gifts uncertainly. “You shouldn’t have.”
Grinning, I slide the boots on his feet and secure the hat to his head. “What do you think?”
The cat stands, frozen, on the bed. And then, quite suddenly, he falls over, stiff as a board.
“What’s the matter?” I ask, laughing. “Don’t you like them?”
He begins kicking his feet, trying to work the boots off. “I think I’ll leave wearing the boots to you.”
Taking pity on him, I pull the hat from his head as well and cuddle him on my lap. Looking around the ornate captain’s cabin, I stroke under his chin like he likes. “What do you think, Puss. Is it grand en
ough?”
From above, I hear the calls of the crew as the ship leaves the dock.
“Yes, Etta.” The cat rubs against my hand, purring, and then collapses on his pillows. “I think we did very well indeed.”
The Queen of Gold and Straw
Available November 19, 2018
Click Here to View the Book on Amazon
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About the Author
Shari L. Tapscott writes young adult fantasy and humorous contemporary fiction. When she’s not writing or reading, she enjoys gardening, making soap, and pretending she can sing. She loves white chocolate mochas, furry animals, spending time with her family, and characters who refuse to behave.
Tapscott lives in western Colorado with her husband, son, daughter, and two very spoiled Saint Bernards.
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The Marquise and Her Cat: A Puss in Boots Retelling Page 18
