Puss in Boots (Timeless Fairy Tales Book 6)

by K. M. Shea

  “Puss, they’re children,” Gabrielle hissed as Hansel led the line, carrying the toddler. The distraught children meekly followed behind the boy. “You can’t talk to them like that!”

  “I can, and I will. If I am not firm with them now, they shall begin dreaming of dressing me up,” Puss said, narrowing his gaze as Gretel passed through the stable doors with the last of the children. “Do not move for that bumpkin-head until I return.”

  “You already said that.”

  “And I’m saying it again, because I’m not convinced you won’t do something stupid.”

  “I’m not going to gamble—with his life or mine,” Gabrielle said.

  “Good,” Puss grunted. “It would be most inconvenient to have to break in another human after I have you trained so nicely.”

  “Take care of the children. I’ll see you shortly?”

  “Until then,” Puss said. He left the stable, his black tail sticking up like a question mark.

  Gabrielle slipped out after him, stealing her way to a bush constructed of pastel-green cotton candy. She ducked behind it and watched the children follow Puss away from the stable and into the forest. Steffen was still staked to the tree. The witch must have hit him with a spell of some sort, for his eyes were shut, his skin was pale, and he groaned at the back of his throat.

  Gabrielle waited until the last child faded from sight, then snuck closer to the candy cottage. She crept up the hill so she could duck behind the candy cane fence, wincing at the footprints she left behind in the crusty frosting-lawn. Approaching the springerle door, she listened to the witch bang pots and pans. Assured the hag was occupied, she slunk back toward Steffen and the chocolate tree.

  “Your Highness. Your Highness, Steffen!” she hissed, roughly patting his cheek in an effort to rouse him.

  “Gabi? Is that you?” Steffen said, his words slurred and his gaze unfocused. “You smell like a skunk.”

  Gabrielle would have happily wrung his neck at that moment, but the door to the candy cottage swung open, and Gabrielle sprang away like a deer, hiding herself behind a pile of candied apples.

  The witch—still using her crutches—hobbled out, dragging a little sled that contained various knives, cutlery, and pots.

  Gabrielle watched, finding it hard to swallow as the witch further stoked the fire of her large stove.

  When she finished her task, the hag struggled the short distance across the frosting lawn to the chocolate tree where Steffen was picketed like a barn animal. “This way, dearie,” the witch cackled, tugging the rope. “You’re not a tender, juicy child, but you’ll make a nice dinner with all your muscle.”

  To Gabrielle’s horror, the prince struggled to his feet and trooped after the witch without a fight.

  Gabrielle popped out from behind her sticky hiding place and did a swooping inspection of the cleared land that spread around the witch’s candy cottage. I don’t see any of his soldiers. Did he fail to bring any? Or did the witch already defeat them? If they’re here, why aren’t they moving?

  When the witch pried open the door of her oven, Gabrielle leaped to her feet and surged towards her without thinking.

  “Gabrielle, you mule-headed idiot!” Puss yowled, sprinting out of the woods.

  At the cat’s shouted proclamation, the witch swung around, lifting her large nose in the air. “Foxes and…human!” she shrieked when Gabrielle was almost on her. Gabrielle shoved Steffen to the ground, ripping the rope from the witch’s grasp.

  The witch shouted in anger and extended a bony finger at Gabrielle, speaking a dark, oozing word.

  Puss jumped and intercepted whatever spell the hag intended to cast, catching it midair and crunching on it as if it were a mouse.

  Gabrielle kicked like a jackrabbit—shoving the witch into the oven—then slammed its door shut. She leaned on the door, grimacing as the witch shrieked inside, screaming and wailing.

  When her last howl faded, Steffen shook his head and grew bright-eyed and alert. “The witch,” he gasped.

  “Taken care of,” Gabrielle said, panting as she remained plastered against the hot door.

  “Of all the idiotic, foolish things you could do, that had to top the list!” Puss said at Gabrielle’s feet. “I cannot believe you ran at the witch without even your sword unsheathed! I expected better of you, Gabrielle!”

  Assured the witch had expired, Gabrielle eased herself away from the door and slid her sword out of its scabbard. She worked carefully to cut the rope, and by the time Steffen squirmed free, three of his guards—Alwin, Moritz, and Dominik, if she recalled correctly—were striding across the frosting grass, headed in their direction. Alwin and Moritz carried notched crossbows, but Dominik held a shield decorated with a white swan—the crest of the royal family.

  “And you! Was that enough excitement for you, Prince Bumpkin-Head, or do you crave more stupidity?” Puss asked, turning his bronze gaze to Steffen.

  “What happened?” Gabrielle asked.

  “I heard you were going to face the witch this morning. I thought you might need help,” Steffen said, rising.

  “Next time, save us the trouble and remain behind,” Puss sniffed.

  Steffen glared at the cat but continued. “I spoke to some villagers to learn the general location of the witch’s candy cottage. I was cautious and silent—”

  “Which means you didn’t bother learning the witch moved by scent as opposed to sight and hearing,” Puss growled.

  “But she caught me in a trap and hit me with some sort of confusion charm. I could barely sense which way was up and which way was down. I was…impulsive and acted poorly,” Steffen admitted.

  “You should be honest and admit you nearly got yourself killed and ruined Gabrielle’s careful planning,” Puss said.

  “Puss,” Gabrielle said, lifting up the cat and nestling him into her side before she also stood. “It’s over. There’s no use stewing over it now. We need to get the children back to Kinzig.”

  “Well said, my lady!” Dominik cast his shield to the side and clapped enthusiastically for a few moments. He blushed deep red when no one joined him. He cleared his throat and picked up his shield again.

  “Hmph,” Puss said.

  Gabrielle offered the guard a tired smile and walked towards the woods. Puss pushed away from her and dropped to the ground so he could lead the way to the children. “You do not wish to destroy this place before you leave?” he asked.

  “As much as I would like to see this place crumble, the children are our first priority,” Gabrielle said, frowning at the candy cottage over her shoulder.

  “Please allow me to offer the services of my men,” Steffen said. “They can begin dismantling—”

  “Burning,” Gabrielle interrupted.

  “Very well, they can begin burning the cottage while you escort the children home,” Steffen said.

  “It is a reasonable offer. What do you say, Gabrielle?”

  Gabrielle’s frown deepened. “It sounds…acceptable.”

  “But…?” Steffen prodded.

  “I wanted to ruin this place,” she grumbled. “This plan isn’t quite as satisfying.”

  Steffen laughed. “I understand the sentiment.”

  “But as you said, Mistress, the children are your first priority,” Puss said.

  Gabrielle wrinkled her nose at him before she pulled her shoulders back. “Please do stay behind and begin burning the place while Puss and I take the children home. Thank you.”

  “That wasn’t so hard,” Puss said, trotting into the forest. “Very mature of you.”

  Gabrielle chose not to respond, but trailed after him. She elbowed her way through the first layer of trees when Steffen and Moritz joined them.

  “I thought you said you would burn the cottage?” Gabrielle asked.

  “Alwin and Dominik will. I always intended to help you with the children,” Steffen said.

  “And your shadow?” Gabrielle asked, waving to Moritz.

  The cat
-like soldier saluted her.

  “Moritz is my punishment for getting caught.” There was a long pause before Steffen spoke again. “Thank you for saving me.”

  Gabrielle eyed the handsome prince. His hair was mussed, and he was staring straight ahead. “You’re welcome.”

  “Bumpkin-head,” Puss muttered.

  Gabrielle shook her head at her cat, but the prince continued. “I thought you would need my help. I didn’t ever imagine I would need yours.” His mouth twisted into a funny quirk of a smile.

  “Puss and I make a good team. It would be difficult for anyone to nab both of us,” Gabrielle said.

  “If you had waited for your guards, you wouldn’t have been nabbed either, Your Highness,” Puss said, his voice sour.

  Steffen ignored Puss’s words and moved closer to Gabrielle so their shoulders brushed. He opened his mouth to speak but cut himself off with a grimace. “Did you have a mishap in the woods—with a skunk, maybe? I recalled you smelled quite good after your bath yesterday.”

  Gabrielle ruthlessly whacked Steffen’s shoulder. “It isn’t polite to discuss bathing habits in public, Your Highness.”

  “Yes, but it is fun,” Steffen said, holding up a branch so Gabrielle could pass under it unscathed.

  “You’re a prince. Princes don’t talking about their subjects’ baths.”

  “Of course. So did you accidentally stumble on the skunk?” Steffen asked as he moved to stand upwind of her.

  “It is not skunk you smell, but fox, and we applied it to ourselves on purpose,” Puss said, pushing his way through a bush.

  “So that’s how you avoided detection? You doused yourself with—”

  “Essence de Fox,” Gabrielle supplied.

  “Which covered up your scent so the witch couldn’t sniff you out. A good trick, I commend you.”

  “It was a brilliant idea,” Puss acknowledged as they made an abrupt turn.

  “Lady Gabrielle!”

  “’N’ Puss in Boots, too!”

  “Marquise Gabrielle!”

  “You’re back!”

  “You’re alive!”

  Children threw themselves at Gabrielle and Puss in spite of their acrid smell. Hansel chased after a toddler, and Gretel sighed in relief. “I told you they would return safely,” she scolded the other children. “There’s nothing too terrifying for Lady Gabrielle and Puss in Boots.”

  “You flatter us,” Gabrielle said.

  “Did any brats run away in my absence?” Puss asked, sitting with his tail tucked around his paws.

  “No, Lord Master Roland,” the children chorused.

  “Good. Well done, urchins. We will now return you to your parents—stop! Put me down this instant!” Puss yowled when an excited child heaved him into the air.

  Gabrielle watched her cat organize the children. “I’m glad you are alright,” she said to Steffen.

  “I suppose so, although my pride has taken a violent beating,” Steffen said wryly. “I do not think your cat will ever allow me to forget today’s incident.”

  Gabrielle laughed. “You don’t want to know all the stupid things I’ve done and almost done. Puss has been there to fish me out of my messes, though.”

  “For your sake, I am glad.”

  “Yes. As delightful as our conversation has been, I’m afraid we must cut it short as I think it would be best if we spread out around the children. Is that alright, Moritz?” Gabrielle asked.

  Moritz nodded and moved to the back of the herd. Steffen followed him and stood at a previously open flank.

  Within a few minutes, their group was moving through the trees—the adults spaced around the perimeter of the group like a fence with Puss leading the charge. The formation cut off any conversations, and forging through the trees with a pack of children proved to be more difficult than estimated, so Gabrielle was never given a chance to renew her conversation with Steffen. Instead, she chased a toddler who was intent on running and allowed children to clutch her limbs and clothes as they stumbled through underbrush.

  When they left the forest and approached Kinzig, the villagers stopped their tasks, work, and chores. Hopeful expressions turned into cries of delight when Gabrielle and her band of guards and children drew closer.

  Children stampeded into the village, a mess of snotty tears and hearty cries.

  “Mama!” Gretel shouted, hurtling towards a big, red-faced woman.

  “Papa!” Hansel shouted, leaping into the arms of the bear-faced blacksmith.

  The toddler—the youngest kidnapped child—was swept up by his joyful mother and father. A roly-poly lad and his chubby-cheeked sister were embraced by their parents—a pair of bakers. The air was loud with joyous reunions, and Gabrielle sighed in contentment.

  “Not bad, considering it’s an adventure that has you helping other humans, hmm?” Puss asked, placing a paw on the tip of Gabrielle’s right boot.

  “You have won me over to these kinds of adventures—they’re by far the most rewarding,” Gabrielle said.

  “So I can add hero to your list of accomplishments?”

  “Not by half,” Gabrielle snorted.

  “How droll. Even so, you must bathe, immediately. You smell fiendishly bad.”

  “We smell fiendishly bad. How will you get your fur clean of the scent?” Gabrielle asked.

  “You shall bathe me first,” Puss said.

  “What? No!” Gabrielle laughed.

  “There is no other choice. I refuse to lick myself clean of Essence de Fox.”

  “Now I really don’t want to know what it is.”

  “I have a spell I can work on your clothes—lucky thing, too, or I would recommend you burn them,” Puss said.

  Gabrielle shivered and turned in the direction of the Galloping Gelding, intending to slink off in the middle of the celebration, but she jumped in surprise when Hansel’s father gripped her shoulder.

  “Wait one moment, my lady,” the blacksmith boomed. “We have not had a chance to thank you and Master Puss.”

  “It was our pleasure,” Gabrielle said. Puss nodded in agreement.

  “Perhaps,” Gretel’s mother said. “But we must thank you for your service.”

  “Here, here!” the bakers shouted over the giggles of their children.

  “What can we give you?” another villager asked.

  “I don’t want anything,” Gabrielle said. “We don’t want anything,” she hastily added when the villagers swiveled to look at Puss.

  “Although we require nothing for the recovery of your children and the defeat of the wretched hag that has terrorized Kinzig, wouldn’t it be appropriate to celebrate the return of your beloved offspring?” Puss asked.

  The village was silent as those present worked through Puss’s suggestion before the adults and children erupted into cheers.

  “A celebration!”

  “A festival!”

  “Someone tell Okan to start cooking.”

  “I must finish grazing the sheep, but tonight we will dance!”

  “Is Winifred here? Someone should tell her to tune her fiddle.”

  “NO candy, please!”

  “Oh, but would someone make some fresh spaetzle?”

  “You aren’t angry?” Puss asked as the pair watched the villagers puff with excitement.

  “At least they aren’t trying to give us money or valuables. Besides, you’re right. The children returning home is something to celebrate,” Gabrielle said.

  “I’m glad to hear you agree. Now, about that bath.”

  Gabrielle combed through the crowd until she spied Steffen standing with his father and some of his guards. Steffen gestured towards the woods and spoke with a serious face to his father and the guard commander. She was a little disappointed to end their conversation, but it was just as well. She would rather not face him while smelling of fox.

  “I’ll bathe you. Let’s return to the Galloping Gelding so I can help Okan draw enough water.”

  “I will require lav
ender-scented bathwater.”

  “You can require all you like, but you’ll only be getting plain water…unless you can magic it in there yourself,” Gabrielle said, briskly making for the inn with Puss trailing behind her.

  “We shall see.”

  Chapter 8

  Festivities

  The afternoon proceeded well. Prince Steffen and Gabrielle returned—with Moritz—to the witch’s home to confirm the property had been burnt to a crisp. Not a splinter remained of the terrible stable and candy cottage. The only hint that the buildings existed was the lingering scent of burnt sugar.

  As soon as possible, the villagers set aside their work, exchanging the tools of their trade for instruments and flowers. Okan—the quiet innkeeper of the Galloping Gelding—cooked up a storm with assistance from the bakers. The air was filled with music, laughter, and smiles.

  At the start of the celebration, Gabrielle was never alone for more than a moment. Too many children and villagers wished to thank her, speak to her, and dance with her. It wasn’t until the sun set and a massive bonfire was lit that she was able to shrink back to the shadows with Puss—who smelled heavenly thanks to his lavender-scented bath.

  She was watching the dancers and petting her cat when Steffen joined her.

  “You look content,” he said, offering her a wooden bowl of ripe strawberries.

  “I am,” Gabrielle said, selecting one.

  “Why shouldn’t she be? She saved a number of children and the crown prince today,” Puss said.

  A wry tilt slanted Steffen’s lips, but he said nothing in retaliation. “You have to admire them,” he said.

  “Who?” Gabrielle asked, pulling her attention away from a stray, pumpkin-colored cat that lurked nearby.

  Steffen sat down next to her. “The villagers.”

  “Why would we admire them? They’re pleasant, kind people, but I do not think that is all that unusual,” Gabrielle said, furrowing her brow.

  “Perhaps, but they have the fortitude and the courage to stay in danger,” Steffen said.

  Gabrielle consumed her strawberry. “What do you mean?”