“I mean it,” I said, fighting back tears. “Get out! I’m dangerous!”
He finally took the hint and sauntered towards the door. When he got close enough, he crouched and leaped into my arms.
I caught him by reflex and screamed. What had I done?
Except I hadn’t done anything. The cat purred and settled into my arms.
I ran a trembling hand over his fur. Nothing happened.
“It doesn’t affect you.”
The cat gazed at me with narrowed eyes as if he had known this all along, and I was very stupid for not knowing it as well.
I was too happy to care. When Da returned from the city, I ran to him and hugged him. He stiffened, and for a moment I thought I had made a horrible mistake. That I had turned him to gold after all.
Then he grabbed my shoulders and pulled me back. “What possessed you to do that, Emily? You could have made me a statue!”
“I won’t, Da. I held the cat, and it didn’t hurt him.”
“The cat?” He blinked at the mangy creature sleeping by the fireplace.
“I don’t think my powers affect living things.”
“You don’t think? I’ll thank you not to risk my life on hunches.”
“Da, what’s wrong?”
He held up the golden spoon he had taken to the capital city to sell. It was snapped in half, showing that it was still made of wood in the center.
“This is what’s wrong, Em. They nearly threw me in prison for trying to pass this off for solid gold when it’s only plated.”
“I never said it was solid.”
“Well, apparently none of it was.”
His sour tone annoyed me. There was enough gold in the cottage to last a lifetime, but Da always wanted more. I slouched by the fire with the cat. Da tossed the broken spoon onto the table and joined me on the hearth.
“I’m sorry, Em. We’ll figure this out.”
“I don’t want to figure this out. I want to be normal again. Human again.”
Da shook his head. “This is a blessing, Emily. Don’t you ever forget that. Once I sell a few more pieces, we’ll have all we need to move somewhere new and live like kings. You can wear fine gowns.”
“I don’t want gowns.”
“What about a pet?”
He looked at the cat as if he expected gratitude for this offer, but the cat ignored him.
“Where did that cat come from, anyway?” Da asked. “If you want a pet, I’m sure we can find something better than that.”
“I like him. I’ll call him Cuartha for his curved tail.”
The cat hissed at me.
“Ok, maybe not.”
The cat purred. A gravelly, uneven purr that was just as unkempt as the rest of him.
“We’d better stick with turning smaller things for a while,” Da said. “Try this.”
He picked a piece of dried straw off the floor and handed it to me. I ran my fingers over the surface. It changed to gold, and the burning eased.
Da reclaimed the straw and tried to snap it in half. It bent in his hands. He pulled a knife from his pocket and cut through it instead.
“Solid gold,” he said with a grin.
Da spent even more time away after that. I still didn’t dare leave the house, and I could only pet the cat so many hours a day. The rest of the time, I amused myself trying to guess his name.
“Crookshanks?” I said.
No response.
“Smokey?”
He twitched an ear.
“Moggy?”
The cat yowled at me and stalked to the corner of the room. He twirled around the leg of a spinning wheel.
My mother’s spinning wheel. It was one of the few things I remembered. Her spinning wool into yarn by firelight.
I didn’t have any wool, but Da had brought in a pile of straw for me to turn to gold.
“We’re almost there, Em,” he said. “Turn this pile of straw to gold, and we’ll have enough.”
I was beginning to suspect we would never have enough.
I wrapped my hands in my sleeves and pulled the spinning wheel from the corner, careful not to touch it any more than necessary. Then I took a piece of straw and began to spin.
My first thread was lumpy and uneven. It kept breaking. But I had nothing better to do, so I kept practicing. By the time Da returned from his latest journey, I had spun the whole pile of straw into golden thread.
“Practically fine jewelry!” he crowed, running the strands between his fingers. “You’ve made our fortune, Em!”
He bought an even bigger pile of straw, gave me three copper coins in case of emergency, and left to sell the golden thread in the city.
I spent the next morning spinning. When I had filled a spindle, I hid it under the bed and stared at my hands. I had used more magic spinning than I ever had transforming spoons. They weren’t burning. I took a deep breath, turned the golden doorknob, and stepped outside.
The short walk to the village felt like a journey to another world. How long had it been since I felt the sun on my face? Since I had heard the birds sing?
People stared at me when I walked into town. Whispered about me as soon as I passed. I held my head high and went to Peter’s house. He dropped his work when he saw me.
“Emily? Is it really you? I thought you’d moved away!”
I told him I had been ill. That Da had been traveling to ask doctors for advice.
Peter believed it. He said he would have come to visit if he had known. He took my hand and pulled me through the village, showing me everything that had changed while I had been away. He didn’t let me go until the sun sank low in the sky, and I had to return home.
“Come again,” he whispered, squeezing my hand, which had begun to burn. “Come tomorrow.”
I nodded. I had assumed he would forget me, but it seemed my absence had only made his heart grow fonder.
I spun straw every morning and walked with Peter every afternoon. As long as I poured enough magic into the spinning, I could forget I was anything more than human.
“Why do you keep buying straw?” Peter asked as I spent the last of my copper coins on a bundle of it. “You don’t have any animals to feed.”
“I’m weaving a basket for my cat, but he keeps tearing it up.”
He laughed.
“That cat is nothing but trouble. Have you named him yet?”
“Not yet. Nothing seems to stick.”
“I made you something.”
It was a cat carved from wood and varnished to a fine sheen. I pulled my sleeve over my hand, held it for a moment, marveling at the details, then put it in my apron pocket so I wouldn’t turn it to gold. I preferred the wood.
“It’s beautiful.”
Peter’s hair was gold like sunlight, and his smile was just as warm. I wondered what he would do if he knew I was half-fae. Would he still make me gifts and walk with me through town? Would he fear my magic?
Or would he grow greedy like Da? Would his eyes light up more at the sight of gold than the sight of me?
“Is something wrong, Emily?”
I shook my head. I would have to tell Peter someday. If we were going to have a future, he’d have to know.
But he didn’t have to know yet.
“Emily, come out and greet your father! There’s a good girl!”
Da stood outside the house calling for me. Drunk from the sound of it. I rolled my eyes and flung open the door.
Soldiers with crossbows stood in formation around our house. They pointed their arrows at me. I put my hand over the doorknob to hide the gold.
My father stood between two guards. I couldn’t tell if they were detaining him or helping him stay upright. He gestured to me in a vague way, more inebriated than I had seen him since the day my mother left. “That’s my daughter. She’s the one who spins straw to gold.”
“Da!”
Yelling at him was the wrong thing to do. The soldiers stiffened as if I had just confirmed Da’s impos
sible tale.
I stepped out of the house and closed the door behind me. Maybe I could talk my way out of this. As long as they didn’t see the gold inside our cottage, I still had a chance.
“I’m sorry about my father. He tells crazy stories when he’s drunk. Thank you for bringing him home.”
“It’s no good, Em. Folks started asking questions about the gold and calling me a thief. I had to tell them the truth to keep out of prison. I’m sorry.” He didn’t sound sorry at all.
“Turning straw to gold is impossible.”
Hints of doubt played across the guards’ faces, and they lowered their crossbows a little. It was working. I just needed—
“Her mother was fae,” Da said. “Don’t trust a word she says. You know how they lie.”
The guards raised their crossbows again, and their eyes hardened.
“It’s no crime. Even if my mother was fae, that’s not a crime.”
“And the gold? Is he telling the truth about that?”
The captain of the guards held up a familiar spindle of golden thread. I winced, then cursed myself for reacting. The captain gestured to his men.
“Take her.”
“It’s not a crime! Magic is not a crime!”
“Perhaps not, but cheating the king is.”
“The king? Da, what have you done?”
“Nothing, Em, nothing. You’re satisfied, sir?”
The captain nodded. The guards holding Da upright pushed him forward and reached for me. I struggled, but they locked onto my arms and held tight.
“Da!”
I accused and begged with that one syllable. Da leaned against the house for support.
“Can’t be helped, Em. You’ll do just fine. I’m the real victim here. I’ll have to go back to work with you gone.” He opened the door. The cat rushed out of the house and clawed a guard’s leg. The man grunted in surprise, then kicked the cat and sent him flying through the air. He hit the house and didn’t get up.
“No!” I lunged towards the cat. The guard yanked me away and tied my arms behind my back with rope. “Da, please!”
“Gag her as well,” the captain said. “We’ll have no peace with her screaming.”
They stuffed a rag in my mouth and dragged me down the road. I relaxed a little. We were going towards the village. People would see me. Decent people, unlike my traitorous father. They would help.
Peter would help.
But when we reached the village, the crowds scattered to make room for the soldiers. I searched the streets, desperate for a friendly face. For someone to distract the guards so I could run.
Finally, I found Peter and willed him to look at me and understand. If he helped me break free, we could run away together. I could support us with spinning. We could build a new life somewhere far from this madness. He stared at me, then pushed through the crowd until he stood face to face with the captain.
“What’s going on?”
“Royal order,” the captain said. “She’s a fae who cheated the king.”
Peter’s eyes grew wide as he met my gaze. “You’re fae?”
I couldn’t deny that accusation, and I winced at the disgust on his face. Peter studied me a moment longer, then turned away and disappeared into the crowd.
I screamed through the gag, desperate to reach him. The guard shook my arm. “None of that. He knows better than to interfere.”
Not a single person tried to help. I cried until the tears soaked into my gag, and I tasted salt. I cried for Peter and my cat and myself. Gold had cursed us all.
Anger replaced grief as we walked. Da had enough gold to live comfortably for the rest of his life. I had no doubt he would. Was this all part of his plan? A way to be rid of me and start again on his own?
But he could have abandoned me without revealing my secret. And if he wanted to betray me, he could have sent guards to fetch me without coming himself. He had been their prisoner before they decided to take me instead.
What had he possibly done to make the king so angry? What crime had Da committed?
Because it seemed I was to answer for it.
“Emily! Welcome!”
This was not the reception I expected, and it made me nervous. King Banagher beamed at me from his golden throne. The room was full of glittering people in glittering clothes. The only dark spot was the king’s only son, Prince Tiergan. He wore unadorned black garments and sat beside his father looking angry with the world.
My knees shook as I curtsied. It was possibly the worst curtsy that throne room had ever seen, but King Banagher’s smile didn’t waver.
“We are so pleased to meet you, Emily. Your father told us a lot about you when he was here.”
Da had been to the throne room? This just kept getting worse. The courtiers tittered at the memory of whatever Da had done.
“My father tends to exaggerate, Sire.”
“Does he now?”
King Banagher looked thoughtful.
Prince Tiergan yawned. “I told you that man was a liar. We’re wasting our time with her.”
The scorn in his gray eyes made me stand a little straighter. I almost admitted to my powers on the spot just to spite him, but instead I bit my tongue and tried to look humble.
“Your father is a liar or a thief to be sure,” the king said. “But he got that gold from somewhere.”
“Please, Sire, I’ve committed no crime.”
“That remains to be seen.”
“But my father—”
“May very well have told us a tall tale, but I won’t hold that against you. I like the look of you, Miss Emily. I think you’ll do nicely.”
“Sire?”
A calculating gleam filled his eyes. I swallowed and buried my hands in my skirt. I hadn’t spun that morning, and my fingertips burned. “How would you like to be part of the royal family? Perhaps marry my son?”
“Father, she’s a common wench with a drunkard father. We should throw her out before she taints us with her presence, not invite her to stay.”
I stepped forward to respond, but the guards by the throne raised their crossbows and pointed them at me. King Banagher waved away their concerns and chuckled.
“Fine, fine. If you’re so picky, I’ll take her. Miss Emily, spin straw into gold for us, and you’ll be my queen. How does that sound?”
I sputtered. There were so many things wrong with that plan, I couldn’t settle on which one to protest. The king grinned at my outrage.
“Guards, please escort Miss Emily to her room. We’ll give her a few days to settle in and show us her powers.”
The hum of conversation drowned out my protests. Guards grabbed my shoulders and pulled me from the room. Not promising treatment for their future queen. What game was the king playing?
After dragging me up an endless set of stairs, the guards untied my hands, shoved me into a cell, and locked the door behind me. This just got worse and worse. I fought the urge to bang on the door. It wouldn’t do to leave golden handprints on the iron. Instead, I ran to the window on the opposite side of the room and stood on tiptoe to look outside.
The capital city stretched far below me. People bustled through the streets, but I was too high up to see their faces or call for help. Even if I could fit between the bars on the window, there was no way I could escape the tower without falling to my death.
Although death might be preferable to whatever the king had planned. I turned from the window to examine the room. A spinning wheel and a pile of straw sat in the corner. Just the sight of them made my fingers burn.
So that was it. King Banagher would keep me here until I showed proof of my fae heritage. Then he would marry me to keep the gold in the family.
Well, I wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. Maybe if I convinced him that I couldn’t spin straw to gold, he would let me go.
But I had to get rid of the magic somehow. I put my hands into my apron pocket to think and brushed against something solid. The carved wooden cat.<
br />
Peter. How could he let the guards take me? He had run away at the first sign of trouble. At the first hint that I was fae.
I didn’t expect him to fight men with crossbows, but he could have done something. He could at least have offered a comforting smile rather than looking at me with disgust.
Some small part of me hoped it was all part of a plan. That he was biding his time and planning a rescue. But deep down, I knew that wasn’t true. I brushed away tears, angry at myself for crying. The future I had dreamed of was dead, but now was not the time to cry over lost love.
Now was the time to survive.
I willed my magic into the cat. Peter had carved it from hardwood and coated it with some sort of varnish. The magic resisted, burning on my fingertips. I gritted my teeth and squeezed the cat until I left golden fingerprints on the wood.
It was a start.
“Cenzio, Percival, Crinkle.” I recited potential cat names out of habit, hoping my cat had survived and escaped. There was no chair in the prison room. No furniture of any kind besides the spinning wheel. I buried my hands in my apron and lay on top of the straw to wait.
I expected someone to check on me, but they left me alone the whole day. They didn’t even bring a meal.
Maybe they had forgotten about me. I wasn’t sure if I should hope for that or not. On the one hand, that would mean I could avoid the king and whatever fate he had planned for me.
On the other hand, it meant I would starve.
The spinning wheel glistened in the moonlight, tempting me. Magic burned in my fingertips, not happy that I was pushing it into a lump of wood instead of pliable straw. The cat felt a little heavier than it had before. Maybe if I turned it to solid gold, I could bribe a guard with it an escape.
“Meow.”
I sat up. The sound was raspy and cantankerous and one I knew well.
“Cat?”
An uneven purring filled the room. Where was it coming from? I pressed my ear against the iron door, but that wasn’t it.
Something blocked the window, creating a cat-shaped silhouette in the moonlight. The cat perched on the window ledge, purring and rubbing against the bars as if nothing were wrong. I reached my fingertips through and buried them in his fur, careful not to push him off the edge.
Hellcats: Anthology Page 26
