The Merchant's Love

by Antonia Aquilante

  “I don’t understand.” Even as he said it, he was turning and dipping down so Philip could see Julien for himself.

  “We all felt something.” Etan sat, and Tristan dropped down beside him on the floor.

  “We think it was from the protection spells,” Philip interjected. Cathal nodded. He stood as close to Flavian as he could get, but Flavian seemed to want to be even closer, both his hands buried in Cathal’s fur.

  “And it made you change?” Amory looked between the three of them, but his gaze came to rest on Philip.

  “Yes, but there’s worse.”

  Amory frowned at Philip. “What could be worse?”

  “They can’t change back,” Flavian said, his voice tight with worry.

  Amory’s mouth dropped open. “You can’t change back?”

  “We all tried,” Etan said. “But we can’t make anything happen.”

  This was not good. And that was an understatement the likes of which Amory had never before thought. “Has anything like this ever happened before?”

  He expected the negative response, but he had to ask anyway.

  “All right.” Amory forced himself to stay still and not pace to keep from jostling Julien too much, since he’d gone heavy and limp with sleep. “You think it’s the spells. Do you think someone tried the barrier? Savarin said you’d feel it.”

  “I…I don’t know.” Philip sat and appeared to be thinking. “I don’t know what that would feel like, but maybe. Cathal? Etan?”

  “I think it might be. It’s a difficult feeling to describe, but there’s something pulling at me,” Etan said. “I can almost get a direction.”

  “West?” Cathal’s voice was rougher but understandable.

  “West, I think.”

  “We need Savarin. I hope he can give us some answers.” Amory bit his lip. “And if someone did try the barrier, we have to alert the army. If we can get a better location.”

  “You’ll have to do it,” Philip said. “I can’t go anywhere like this.”

  Amory wanted to curse again. “I can do it.”

  “Is it just you three? Or were more of the family affected?” Flavian asked suddenly. “The twins? Elodie?”

  “Meriall is home tonight, I think. Vrai isn’t even in the city.” Amory didn’t want to think about what would happen if this reached Vrai and he wasn’t alone. Elodie was in tonight, but if any of her ladies saw her, they’d have a problem. “Flavian, will you check on Elodie and Alexander? Make sure they’re all right and haven’t been seen?”

  “Of course.”

  “Tristan—”

  “I’ll go into the city. Faelen is with Maxen. Does he know?” Tristan asked.

  “No. Faelen hasn’t told him,” Amory said. “Though if Faelen changed, Maxen knows now.”

  “I’ll help Faelen talk to him, and I’ll check in on Meriall too.” Tristan kissed Etan’s head quickly and stood.

  “Good. Try not to look as if you’re panicking when you do. We don’t need anyone asking questions. I’ll leave Julien with you.” Amory laid Julien on one of the couches and covered him with a blanket they’d left folded on a cushion earlier.

  “He’ll be fine here.” Philip leaned into Amory for a moment, and Amory gave him a quick squeeze.

  “Let’s go then.” Amory followed Flavian and Tristan from the room. In the corridor, he stopped when he reached the first guard. “Prince Philip isn’t to be disturbed. No one goes in except us and anyone we bring with us.”

  If the guard thought the order suspicious, he didn’t show it. “Yes, Your Highness.”

  Amory strode quickly through the wing and out into the palace proper, which was quiet at this time of night. He beckoned to one of the guards on duty there. “I need Master Savarin and Captain Loriot in my office as quickly as possible.”

  One moment, Maxen was nearly giddy with happiness and anticipation for the future, and the next, Faelen was pulling out of his arms and…he wasn’t sure. A glittering cloud had enveloped Faelen, and where he’d been, there was now a black cat so large its head came up to Maxen’s hip. Part of Maxen was screaming that he needed to run away, but he could only stare, frozen.

  The cat stared back, but it looked…worried. Could a cat look worried? They’d never kept cats in his family, and really, this was no house cat anyway.

  “Maxen?”

  He jumped and fell back against the mantel. The cat drew back, appearing…well, a bit hurt actually. But the cat had talked. And it continued to watch him with large eyes the exact same shade of peridot as Faelen’s. Maxen frowned.

  That was crazy, wasn’t it?

  “Faelen?”

  “Yes.” The voice—Faelen’s voice—was deeper, but the cadence of it was just the same.

  Maxen sat down. Right on the floor. His knees just wouldn’t quite hold him up. Because Faelen was a cat, and he was talking. “How…?”

  “It’s my Talent. I can do this.” Faelen didn’t come any closer.

  “I didn’t know you had a Talent.” What had Faelen been saying before this happened? That he didn’t want Maxen to find out something?

  “We keep it a secret. The Talent runs in the royal family, but we’re not to tell anyone outside, for our safety and for the safety of Tournai.”

  He wished he could believe Faelen was being overdramatic, but he wasn’t given to that, and there were probably plenty of things the royal family couldn’t share for fear of threat to Tournai. It didn’t keep him from feeling a pang of hurt. “Would you have ever told me?”

  “Yes. Now that we’ve talked, decided we would be together, have a life together. I would’ve told you, though I would’ve spoken to Philip first. It seems only right since it’s not just my secret.”

  Maxen’s mind spun even as his hurt was somewhat soothed. How many members of Faelen’s family had this Talent? Did the prince? Did Etan, and did Tristan know? “All right. I can understand that.”

  “Thank you.”

  “So why did you use your Talent now if you weren’t going to tell me yet?”

  Faelen let out an exasperated noise. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t do it myself.”

  “What does that mean?” Concern began to overtake him, because if Faelen had looked frustrated a moment ago, fear was now bleeding through.

  “It means I didn’t consciously decide to do this. I just…changed.” Faelen shook his head. “And now I can’t change back.”

  “What?”

  “I can’t change back. I tried, but it’s as if something isn’t letting me, and this has never happened to me before. And I don’t know why it’s happened now or what caused it—”

  Maxen moved without thinking, covering the distance between them and taking Faelen in his arms. Faelen was stiff for a moment and then melted into him. A moment later, Maxen had a lap full of glossy, dark cat. Faelen burrowed into him and put his head on Maxen’s shoulder. He was trembling, and it broke Maxen’s heart to see him so afraid. He smoothed his hands over Faelen, startled briefly by the feel of soft fur instead of smooth skin as he tried to soothe as much as he could. How had he not known about Faelen’s Talent? But now wasn’t the time to think about that. He guided Faelen back, and they lay on the floor in front of the fire with Faelen almost on top of him. Maxen smiled—Faelen did just the same when they stretched out on the couch and read.

  They stayed that way for what felt like a long time, but Maxen didn’t care. His mind was slowly steadying. He didn’t quite know what he thought of this sudden revelation, but Faelen needed him—and more, needed him to be steady—so he could think about it later. He kept one hand moving in slow strokes over Faelen’s back, the other arm circling him, holding him secure and as safe as Maxen could. When a low sound began, Maxen almost jumped. It was a soft purr.

  Hadn’t he always thought Faelen was a bit like a cat?

  Little had he known.

  Faelen cuddled closer, burrowing his head into Maxen’s neck.

  Maxen smiled. “I’m not sure y
ou can get any closer than that.”

  “I can try.” The tone of Faelen’s voice was just slightly stubborn at the moment.

  “And I wouldn’t object.” He liked being close to Faelen, even when he was like this apparently. “But perhaps we should talk about what to do.”

  Faelen sighed. “We should.”

  “Well, then, what? Is there someone who can help you?”

  “I don’t know.” Faelen was quiet for a moment. “Alexander has the Talent, though this hasn’t happened to him either. He would have told me. Philip, Cathal, and Etan have it too.”

  “We could send for Etan.” Maxen seized on the one person he could imagine summoning to his house. Somehow, the thought of asking the prince to come was further out of his understanding than the fact that his lover could turn into a massive cat. “Maybe he could help, or find out how to help. He’s a scholar.”

  “He might be a good choice. He’s been studying family records—we both have, but he’s been doing it longer—trying to find out more about our Talent. It’s scary how little we know.”

  “How is that possible?” When Tristan’s Talent for fire and light had manifested itself, Father had gotten teachers for him. Maxen couldn’t believe the royal family wouldn’t do the same.

  “Remember, it’s a secret. Everything we know has been passed down from one generation to the next, but the Talent skips around, and knowledge has gotten…vague.”

  Annoyance burst inside Maxen. “Well, that’s unhelpful.”

  Faelen laughed, an odd rumbling sound. “Yes, it is. But as it is, I guess Etan is our best option.”

  “I’ll have a note taken to him. We’ll need to figure out what to say since I doubt you want me to write exactly what happened.” What if the note fell into the wrong hands? Maxen didn’t know why Faelen’s Talent had to be kept secret, but Faelen saying so was enough for him.

  “You’re right about that.” Faelen was quiet for a few moments. His voice was a whisper of sound when he spoke again. “What if I can never change back?”

  “Don’t think about that. It hasn’t been long, and you can’t know that will happen. You can’t know anything at all yet.” Though Maxen would be lying if he said the same thought hadn’t occurred to him. He just didn’t want to think it. “We’ll send for Etan, and he’ll help you.”

  “All right.”

  Before Maxen could say anything else, he heard the front door open. Both he and Faelen sat up, getting tangled with each other in the process and scrambling around. There were very few people who had a key to the house, but he couldn’t let Faelen be seen. He looked around the room frantically. There was nowhere a cat of Faelen’s size could hide.

  “Maxen!” Tristan’s voice called out. “Are you and Faelen here?”

  “Does he know?” Maxen asked.

  Faelen seemed to sag in relief. “Yes. It’s fine.”

  “We’re in here, Tristan,” Maxen called out in return. He tried to untangle himself from Faelen, who still sat half across him and didn’t seem inclined to move in any helpful way.

  The door creaked open. Tristan entered, a bit disheveled, as if he’d thrown his cloak and hat on with haste. “Thank goodness. Faelen, are you—oh, well, that answers that question. It happened to you too.”

  “What do you mean?” Faelen asked. “Did this happen to someone else?”

  “If you changed without your conscious control, then yes. It happened to Philip, Cathal, and Etan too.”

  “What about Alexander?” Faelen got to his feet, finally moving off Maxen enough that he could stand as well. He stayed close to Faelen, though, resting one hand on his neck.

  “I don’t know. Flavian was going to check on him, but I wanted to come here as quickly as possible. I need to go see Meriall, though I assume if it happened to you, it happened to her as well.”

  “Meriall has the Talent too?” Maxen asked.

  “I need to get back to the palace,” Faelen said at the same time.

  “That isn’t going to be easy.” Tristan gestured toward Faelen. “I came in a carriage, but you can’t leave the house like that, or walk through the palace.”

  Faelen cursed vehemently. In several languages. Tristan’s wide-eyed astonishment exactly mirrored how Maxen felt at hearing it.

  “Well, I need to get there, so we’ll have to find a way.”

  Maxen frowned. “Something to cover you? But that would look bizarre.”

  “Can we carry him in something?” Tristan asked.

  “We had some deliveries. Maybe there’s a box you could squeeze into,” Maxen suggested.

  Faelen looked about as unamused as a cat could. “Don’t make any jokes about cats and boxes.”

  Tristan snickered, and Faelen shot a glare at him.

  “I’ll just find something.” Maxen ducked out of the room quickly. He strode down the hall and put a hand over his mouth to stifle a wholly inappropriate laugh. It was possible the shock was finally catching up to him. That, and the enormity of the problem if the crown prince was stuck as a cat.

  He found what might be a suitable box in the storeroom off the kitchen and carried it back to the parlor. It wasn’t overly heavy, but it was unwieldy. He wasn’t sure how easily he and Tristan would be able to maneuver it once Faelen was inside, but they’d have to manage.

  He opened the parlor door, and the murmur of voices stopped. Faelen and Tristan both looked at him. “I could come back if you need to finish.”

  Faelen let out a huff. “What did you find?”

  “I doubt it’ll be too pleasant, but it should work.”

  Maxen laid a blanket in the box, hoping to make it slightly less uncomfortable. Faelen rubbed against him briefly before hopping in and curling himself up to fit.

  Tristan came over, and they carefully fitted the lid in place. Then he and Maxen lifted the box together. They slowly walked out of the parlor and through the front door, doing their best not to jostle Faelen too much. The carriage waited right outside, and the driver jumped down when he saw them. With his help, they loaded the box inside the carriage—not where baggage would usually go, but Maxen wasn’t leaving Faelen out there—and Tristan and Maxen jumped into the carriage after it, settling themselves around the box that took up most of the floor.

  “We have to see Meriall, and then we’ll go back to the palace,” Tristan said as they got underway.

  “All right,” Maxen said, though he assumed Tristan’s statement was more for Faelen than for him.

  “It won’t take long.”

  The trip to where Meriall lived was short. It was the city home that had come to Cathal with the title, though only his mother and sisters lived there. Tristan opened the door. “Wait here with…you know. I’ll be only a moment.”

  Maxen fell back against the cushions as soon as Tristan was gone. He shivered and realized suddenly that he hadn’t stopped to get a coat, hat, or gloves, and he was woefully underdressed for the weather. Hopefully Tristan hadn’t lied about being quick.

  He leaned down toward the box and whispered, “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.” Faelen’s voice was just loud enough for Maxen to hear. “But I’d like to get out of here.”

  “As soon as possible.”

  “I know.”

  They lapsed into silence, though Maxen stayed close to the box, his hand on the lid. It was silly—Faelen couldn’t know—but it made Maxen feel marginally better about the situation.

  The door opened again. It probably hadn’t been long, but to Maxen, it felt like ages, and to Faelen, probably even longer. Tristan climbed into the carriage and set something down on the seat. No, not something—a black cat wrapped in a blanket. It became apparent, as it freed itself from the blanket, that it was larger than a normal cat but nowhere near as large as Faelen. It could probably pass for a regular cat at first glance, at least at a distance.

  Was this Meriall?

  The carriage got underway again as soon as Tristan settled onto the seat. The cat looke
d up at Maxen curiously.

  “Oh, Meriall, Maxen knows now,” Tristan said. “And Faelen is in that box.”

  Meriall’s head snapped around toward Tristan. “What?”

  “We had to get him out of Maxen’s house and into the palace somehow.” Tristan shrugged helplessly.

  “And this is what you came up with? You put him in a box.”

  “Do you have a better idea? It isn’t as if we could have just carried him out the way I carried you.”

  Meriall turned away from Tristan. “Hmph.”

  Maxen had the sudden urge to laugh. This was all so ridiculous, and, yes, putting Faelen in a box was a horrible idea. And it seemed that many, if not all, of the royal family could turn into cats. And how had this become his evening? He put a hand over his mouth and forced the laugh down. Meriall shot him a look out of the corner of her eye, but she didn’t say anything, for which Maxen was grateful.

  Once he had himself under control—back from the edge of breakdown over the night’s revelations—he leaned forward and shifted the lid of the box. Faelen blinked up at him. “Are you all right in there?”

  “As well as can be expected.” Faelen leaned into the hand Maxen put to his cheek.

  “They should have thought of something else.” Meriall balanced herself with her front paws on the edge of the box and looked in at Faelen.

  “Maybe, but this is what we have. You’d better get in here too.”

  Meriall recoiled. “Why?”

  “Because it’ll take me and Maxen to carry Faelen inside, and you’re too big to walk through the palace without arousing suspicions.” Tristan didn’t flinch under her glare. “I’m sorry, but you know I’m right. And we’re almost there.”

  She glared at him for another moment then looked down into the box.

  “Can I help you, Lady Meriall?” Maxen asked hesitantly. It was a bizarre thing to even ask. Could he help her into a box with her cousin so they could smuggle them into the palace?

  She looked at him, her eyes assessing. “Yes, please. I don’t want to jump in and land on Faelen.”

  “For which I’m very grateful,” floated up from inside the box.

  Tristan laughed, and Maxen couldn’t help his smile, but he held back his own laughter. “If you’re ready?”