Puss in Boots (Timeless Fairy Tales Book 6) (22 page)

“After Puss was hit, I fled. We had an escape plan and a horse picketed outside the castle, just in case. I rode it back to Jagst,” Gabrielle said, nudging the mug of hot cider Dano had given her a few minutes ago.

“Where you ran into an enchantress who took your magic cat north so she could cross into Mullberg and heal him,” Rune—Steffen’s handsome younger brother, who was roughly her age—said.

Gabrielle nodded and remembered the way the lady enchantress looked at Puss.
My life was boring, maybe even meaningless before Puss and I set out together. I thought it was the same for him, but…that enchantress
knew
him. They were friends
…

The younger prince nodded, folding his arms across his armored chest. “You did as well as you could,” he said.

“Thank you,” Gabrielle said, studying her drink.
It still wasn’t good enough.

“You
willingly
went to confront the ogre of Carabas?” Steffen said.

“It has been Puss’s plan to do so since I first met him in Ilz,” Gabrielle said, finding it hard to swallow her spit. She sipped her drink, but the rich apple flavor tasted sour and flat.

“That doesn’t mean you had to follow his lead,” Steffen said.

King Henrik cleared his throat and shook his head.

“You—” Steffen stopped talking when Gabrielle looked across the table at him. He sighed and leaned forward so he could brush a lock of her hair out of her face. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Gabrielle shrugged.

“What will you do, Lady Gabrielle?” King Henrik asked, his voice painfully kind.

“Ride north, I suppose, after Puss and the Lady Enchantress,” Gabrielle said.

“You’ll spend the night here, dearie,” Michi said, placing a basket of plum-stuffed rolls on the table—she knew they were Gabrielle’s favorite. “No arguing. You need your rest. You can chase after that enchantress tomorrow morning. If you had a lick of sense, you would wait it out, but I don’t suppose anything could separate you and that cat,” Michi said, shuffling across the room to reclaim her newest knitting project—a bright blue scarf.

The orange stray cat that had taken up residence in The Turtle & Doves leapt onto the bench beside Gabrielle and rubbed against her. The little cat purred so deeply, its entire body shivered. She picked up the smaller cat and placed it on her lap, drawing comfort from the familiar feeling.

“The Lady Enchantress said he would make it if she used her healing magic on him,” she said.

“Oh, aye,” Dano nodded. “So you may as well stay here. Soon Master Puss in Boots will be strolling in through the doors of our fine establishment—scolding you for your tears,” he said, cracking a wide grin.

Gabrielle rested her hand on the orange cat. “What will you do, Your Majesty?” She turned her body in King Henrik’s direction.

“I suspect it would be for the best if Steffen and I postpone the rest of our inspection,” King Henrik said.

“I can stay here, in case the ogre decides to retaliate—although you should take Elise back to Castle Brandis with you,” Rune said.

“Yes, we will,” King Henrik said, his fine brows lowering over his eyes as he studied his son—who smiled sheepishly.

Gabrielle hadn’t yet met Princess Elise—the girl was inspecting the village. Rune had mentioned something about estimated taxes, but she didn’t understand what that had to do with seeing the village.

“Will we return to Brandis so we can muster troops?” Steffen asked.

“I don’t know,” King Henrik said. “We will have to call together your siblings. All of them—including you, Rune.”

“We’ll have to call Erick in from the college,” Steffen said. “It might take him a few days to extricate himself—he’s always buried in meetings and is busy trying to drum up funding.”

“Gerhart is south, visiting with nobles. Do we need him as well?” Rune asked.

“Yes. War is not a decision to be made without input from all of you. All of the royal children will be asked to weigh in on our options,” King Henrik said.

Even in the middle of the day’s nightmarish events, King Henrik’s words brought a light of encouragement to Gabrielle. Arcainia’s royal family had always been strange compared to most royalty on the continent, but since the eight royal children had grown and were slowly slipping into positions of power in the government, the dissimilarity had grown. Still, most Arcainians were proud of the hard-working royal family.

“It will take time to gather Gerhart and Erick. You may as well linger in Jagst for a few days, Rune,” Steffen said, tapping the tabletop with his fingers.

“You’re concerned the ogre will retaliate after all?”

“No,” Steffen said.

“Then why must I stay behind?” Rune asked.

“Because I said so,” Steffen said.

Rune frowned, his handsome features turning dark with a glowering anger. “I won’t do anything to Elise. She’ll ride in the carriage with Father—you can ride your horse.”

“It’s not about Elise.”

“Is it the goblins?”

“No.”

“Then why do I have to stay?” Rune asked, standing at the head of the table.

“We’ll talk later,” Steffen said, scowling at his younger brother.

“Why can’t we talk now?”

Steffen reached up and grabbed Rune by the edge of his chest plate so he could wrench him down to his level. “Darling little brother,” Steffen said, his teeth clenched. “Do not worry your pretty head. There are many forces at work that you don’t understand. I wish for you to remain behind because I trust your strength and fighting abilities.”

Rune blinked before he anchored his eyes on Gabrielle. His confusion was swept away as another dashing smile spread across his lips. “Oh,” he said, the word weighted.

Gabrielle looked to King Henrik, but the fatherly man shook his head.

“You are
such
an idiot,” Steffen muttered, pushing his brother upright with a shove.

“Maybe, but I’m a smooth idiot,” Rune said.

“You are as smooth as a gravel lane,” Steffen said.

King Henrik placed a hand on Rune’s shoulder. “That’s enough, boys.”

“Father, we’re men now,” Rune said.

“No, I’m a man. You’re a confused beanpole,” Steffen said.

“Enough,” King Henrik said, eyeing his son. “Or I will ask Timo to sort you out, Steffen.”

Steffen pressed his lips together and said nothing more.

“Come, Rune. We should check on Elise,” King Henrik said, steering his son for the door.

“As you wish,” Rune said, his voice bright. The father and son disappeared through the door.

“Michi, we’ve got work in the back to complete,” Dano said, shuffling for the kitchens.

Michi tisked her husband, but she folded up the scarf and shuffled after him. “Spoil sport,” she muttered, disappearing into the kitchen.

The inn taproom was quiet as Gabrielle petted the orange cat and Steffen scratched the back of his neck.

“He’s going to make it,” Steffen finally said. “That cat—Puss—will outlive us all.”

“I hope so,” Gabrielle said, her mind recalling how Puss’s limp body felt in her grasp.

“He wouldn’t leave you like this,” Steffen said.

Gabrielle reached for her mug of apple cider. “Not willingly.”

“Gabrielle, this isn’t like you,” Steffen said, capturing her free hand in his. His hand was warm, a bit of a shocking sensation to her ice-cold fingers.

She swallowed awkwardly and raised her eyes to the prince’s face.

“You’re the bravest person I know. Even Rune gets nervous before he faces a creature, but you are as tranquil as a summer breeze. You keep your head in the toughest of situations.”

“Perhaps, but I can’t do anything for Puss now,” Gabrielle said. “Every time you’ve seen me—the candy cottage witch, the goblins, the bandits—I’ve been able to
do
something. This inaction makes me feel…helpless.”

“That doesn’t change what you
did
do for him,” Steffen said, brushing the top of her hand with his thumb. “If it had been anyone else in that castle with Puss, neither of them would have gotten out. Not only did you escape, but you delivered him to an enchantress who can save him.”

“It was sheer luck,” Gabrielle said, rolling her shoulders back so she could level Steffen with a serious frown.

Steffen grinned and squeezed her hand. The action seemed to remind him that he was still holding her hand, for he dropped her limb and pulled his arm to his side. He avoided her eyes for a moment and studied the empty fireplace. “Gabrielle…come back to Castle Brandis with us.”

Gabrielle had to internally repeat his words to be certain she heard him correctly. When the meaning didn’t change, she rubbed one of her ears with a palm. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Come back to Castle Brandis with us.” Steffen hit her with his blue eyes with enough force to send a lesser girl sprawling.

Gabrielle stared at Steffen, unable to fathom a response.
What is that supposed to mean?
she wondered.
This is the love-critic I’m speaking to. Does he feel sorry for me?
She started to lean back on the bench.

Steffen, correctly interpreting her body language as an impending refusal, was quick to add, “Or come to Castle Brandis after you pick up the furball. He’ll throw a hissy fit if he finds out you’ve visited the royal home without him.”

Gabrielle stilled. Puss would slaughter her for refusing an invitation to Castle Brandis. He would caterwaul about her “image as a hero” and complain how the trip would have improved it. She still didn’t understand it—the cat was forever looking five steps farther down the road than Gabrielle could even imagine. Still, she wouldn’t go without him.

“When Puss recovers, we’ll visit,” Gabrielle said.

“Why wait until he’s well? He should recover in Castle Brandis—it would be much more relaxing,” Steffen said. He wore a charming smile Gabrielle hadn’t seen before, one that made her suspect the prince was attempting to wheedle something out of her.

“I suppose you are right,” she said.

“You could travel with Rune.”

“I’ll pass on that offer.”

“What, Rune isn’t handsome enough to serve as your escort?” Steffen asked. He looked simultaneously pleased and irked as a smile twitched across his lips and slanted—turning wry.

“Isn’t he carrying a torch for this foster-sister of yours?”

“That obvious, is it?”

“Yes.”

“He’s not good enough for her,” Steffen said, glaring at the door his younger brother had passed through. “Neither is Falk, for that matter. Elise is the most self-sacrificing person I know. She would do anything for our family and for this country. Rune and Falk fight over her like quarrelsome chickens, and she deserves better than that.”

“I don’t need an escort; Puss and I can manage fine,” Gabrielle said.

“I thought you would see my ulterior motive, but you cannot blame me for trying. You are capable, but I don’t relish the thought of you traveling alone,” Steffen sighed, leaning forward on his elbows. He smiled at Gabrielle—not a charming, dashing, or fake smile, but a small smile that reflected in his eyes, wistful. “Attacking the ogre was a stupid thing to do, but I’m relieved you made it out,” he said. He extended one hand and brushed her cheek with his fingers. “I don’t know what I would have done if…”

Gabrielle was as still as a stone, her heart squeezing in her chest for a different reason than Puss’s injuries.

Steffen paused, cleared his throat, took his hand away, and stood. “So, yes. We’ll be pleased to host you in Brandis. Come as soon as you are able.” Quick strides carried him across the common room. He turned and added a quick bow. “I’ll see you this evening,” he added before rushing out the door.

Gabrielle stared at the abandoned seat across from her for several minutes, trying to sort through Steffen’s words and expressions. When the stray cat meowed, she dropped her gaze to look at the little creature.

“I’m worse than a village girl,” she sighed, rubbing the cat under her chin. “Sighing and dreaming when my closest friend is wounded.”

Steffen’s words had done her good. She wasn’t confident Puss would pull through, but the odds were in his favor. “Puss is a magic cat. He won’t give up life easily. As for the ogre…I’ll see him soon.”

Chapter 12

Outwitting an Ogre

Gabrielle checked the strap of her leather pack—she’d received it (reluctantly) as an upgrade from her burlap sack from a thankful villager. It was secured to her stolen horse’s tack, and the beast didn’t seem to mind the extra weight as she led it, on foot, through the trees. As she had ridden the ribby animal rather hard the day before, Gabrielle didn’t want to push him. She decided to wait until she reached Carabas farmland to ride him.

She peered through the trees, unease nipping at her heels. She could almost feel the weight of someone or something’s gaze on her, but whenever she stopped, she could neither see nor hear anything out of place.

Leaves rustled and branches swayed, but the goblin-infested woods were still.

Hoping to expel her apprehension, Gabrielle forced herself to think over her previous encounter with the ogre of Carabas.

He had red eyes, and he only seemed mildly bothered by Puss’s blinding charm. Is he like the candy cottage witch? He said he could smell us, and he seemed to follow me pretty well. All of his thundering and grunting covered up any noise I made, so he can’t depend on his hearing, like a goblin.

She felt eyes on her and glanced over her shoulder. No one was there.

Puss said the ogre had more magic than wits. He was intelligent enough to speak, but not so intelligent that he thought to shift into something smaller to get through the window to snatch me. How can I use that to my advantage?

A bush rustled. It stilled the instant Gabrielle looked at it.

Swallowing unevenly, Gabrielle walked faster, dragging the horse behind her. When she reached the edge of the forest, she maneuvered her mount, intending to clamber on its back and leave whatever was following her in the forest. She fixed her foot in the stirrup, and a cat meowed.

She looked back to see the little, orange stray cat that had taken such a liking to Puss trying to hop the knee-high grass. “Cat,” Gabrielle said, leaning against her horse when her limbs turned to jelly with relief. “You rotten little mouser! You just about stopped my heart with fear.”

The cat meowed and nosed its way through stalks of wild vegetation, stopping when it could sit at her feet.

Gabrielle’s relief turned into sharp anger—and dismay. “No. I’m not bringing another cat with me into a dangerous situation.” The cat rubbed against her boots and purred. “Absolutely not. I’m not repeating that.”

She hurriedly swung up into the saddle and nudged her horse forward.

The stray followed her, emitting a wailing yowl.

“Shh!”

The cat wailed even louder.

Gabrielle halted her horse and watched the pumpkin-colored cat scramble after her.
If I leave it here, a goblin might find it and eat it.
“Fine! You win. But if you get in my way, I’ll toss you in a cupboard in the castle before I face the ogre again,” Gabrielle said. She slid off her horse and placed the cat in a saddlebag.

The cat meowed and struggled to poke its head free of the leather pack. When it had done this, it looked to her, as if wondering what they were waiting for.

She shook her head and swung into the saddle. “Forward,” she declared. “To death and doom—hopefully not ours.”

They walked through the empty halls of the castle, her boots echoing in the smothering silence. The little cat at her side, Gabrielle had her pack swung over one shoulder, and she carried a shovel.

Where is everyone?
Through the farmland and the town—even when she swiped the shovel from a long-abandoned gardening shack—she hadn’t seen a soul. “He can’t have killed them all. There’s no sign of spilled blood in the wreckage.” She warily looked up and down the empty hallway before digging through her pack.

She had chosen a spot by a lovely—but dusty—glass window, which gave a view of the dirt courtyard between the outer and inner buildings. Gabrielle waited in the outer ring, working up her courage and nerve to go to the inner buildings—where the ogre’s roars shattered the eerie stillness of the castle.

“Found it,” Gabrielle said to the cat, unearthing a glass bottle wrapped in layers and layers of cloth and cotton. She uncapped it and drew back in revulsion. “It smells just as bad as I remember.” She brushed a little liquid on her neck, ran it through her hair, smeared it across her clothes, and even on her chin.

“Stay,” Gabrielle ordered the cat. She placed her bag by a door but picked up the shovel and propped it up on her shoulder. The cat scurried into the courtyard with her, winding around her feet. “No,” Gabrielle hissed. She put the cat back in the hallway, shut the door, and walked on.

The pumpkin-colored cat meowed and jumped through an open window.

Gabrielle clenched her eyes shut as the cat trotted up to her. “I better douse you too, just in case,” she muttered, retreating to the hallway. “But that doesn’t mean you can come with me. This is only in case you wander too close or…something goes wrong.” She poured more of the foul-smelling
Essence de Fox
on her hands.

The cat yowled, squirming in her grasp as she ran her hands up and down its body.

Soon Gabrielle and the cat reeked with the sour odor of fox. “I need to bag that ogre—before I turn green and wretch,” she grimaced. She reclaimed the shovel and marched into the courtyard, and the cat followed her like it was an honored procession.

She couldn’t keep fighting the cat. Her only ally at the moment was her focus, and it was failing her. If the cat didn’t have the sense to hide like every other living thing in the vicinity, that wasn’t her fault. “You follow at your own risk, cat.”

The words didn’t make her feel much better.

She stepped carefully toward the inner building, looking for an entrance.
There. An open window.

“Are you
mad
?” a woman hissed from behind a barrel. “The ogre is in there!”

Gabrielle jumped, startled at the sudden intrusion. She took a moment to collect herself and smiled wryly. “That’s kind of the point.”

The woman darted out and tried to drag her back a few feet. “Come. You should be hiding—with everyone else!”

Ah, so they are still around.
“I’m not going to hide. I’m here for the ogre.” Gabrielle plucked her arm from the woman’s grasp.

“You think yourself a hero? You think you’re skilled enough to free us, after all these years? You’ve got a cracked knob.” A raspy, scornful laugh shook the woman.

“I can’t claim to be hero, but I won’t run. I’m going in there.”

The woman shook her head, turned on her heels, and ran like a terrified woodland creature toward the outer wall.

When the last of the servant’s footfalls faded, Gabrielle adjusted her grip on her shovel and turned to the cat. “You really should stay out here. Hopefully the next time you see me, I’ll have bagged myself an ogre.”

She slipped into the inner castle building. From there, all she had to do was listen to the angry rumblings of the ogre. She turned her body in that direction and walked forward.
Stay calm
, she told herself, pushing all of her fear and terror down. The thought that had pricked her moments after her conversation with Steffen the previous day stuck to her like a burr and kept her fright at bay.
This isn’t about fate, or justice, or even revenge. It’s about Puss, and how he is never going to let this ogre go. If he tries to face it again, I don’t know if he’ll make it. I don’t care if there is a hero fated to take the ogre out.
I’m going to kill this ugly sucker if it’s the last thing I do.

Gabrielle marched up to a large door. The ogre was raging just past it. He was stomping up and down the big hallway in which she had evaded him.

He’s angry. I hope that works to my benefit
. With a deep breath, Gabrielle placed her palms on the door and shoved it open.

“Flesh!” the ogre shouted, making the floor rumble. “I will dine on your bones!” He charged at Gabrielle as she shut the door behind her—which she couldn’t do fast enough. The stray cat scrambled inside and darted under a dainty sideboard against the wall.

The floor shook. She had to speak fast.

“I expected much of you, master ogre.” She shouted deep from her gut, making her voice throaty and husky. “I can see now, I am sorry to say, that I overestimated you.”

The ogre slowed. “What?” He sniffed the air and recoiled. “Foxes!”

Gabrielle’s throat tightened. Would the scent work? Would he realize she was human?
If this doesn’t work, the rest of my plan is ruined.

“You smell of fox, but you speak,” the ogre growled. “What are you?”

“I, good sir, am a Gabi.”

“There are two of you,” the ogre said, sniffing in the cat’s direction.

Gabrielle eyed the cat, dismayed it managed to follow her inside. “Yes, that would be a Gabi junior,” Gabrielle said, lowering her shovel. Her mouth was dry, but she forced herself to speak, trying to sound charismatic—like Puss when he charmed a local authority or a person in a position of power. “I have journeyed across Arcainia. When I was to pass by Carabas, I decided I couldn’t venture so close without meeting you—respected and feared ogre.”

The ogre rubbed his beady red eyes and peered in Gabrielle’s direction. Judging by the way his eyeballs roved from side to side, he couldn’t see her well. “Respected?” he asked, his voice suspicious.

“Why of course,” Gabrielle said, putting all of the air in her gut behind her words. “Everyone has heard how fierce and powerful you are. Although…”

“What?” the ogre demanded.

“Well…I cannot believe everything I have heard about you. Some of the feats are simply impossible,” Gabrielle said.

“You doubt me?” The ogre roared. “I WILL EAT YOU NOW!” He took several great strides forward.

Gabrielle’s legs buckled, but she forced herself to stand strong. “Or you could show me your powers, so that I can testify you are as powerful as everyone says.”

The ogre stopped and growled in his throat—like a wolf. “I care not what others think of me, but I hunger for flesh,” the ogre said. He inhaled and took an unsteady step backwards, apparently repulsed by
Essence de Fox’s
pungent odor now that he was near enough to get a strong whiff.

“That’s just as well,” Gabrielle said. “Then it will not anger you when you hear how the countryside whispers that your power is diminishing.”

“WHAT?”

“Yes. It is said that someone broke into your castle not two nights ago and made off with some of your prized treasures,” Gabrielle said.

The ogre roared, shattering several glass windows.

“So it’s true,” she said when she could hear again. “I thought someone of your power and capabilities would never have something so
embarrassing
happen, but as you cannot prove the greatest of your abilities…”

Gabrielle squeezed the wooden pole of the shovel, almost driving a splinter into her hand. Her plan was hinged on the ogre’s reaction to this set up.
Please
…
please be that stupid. Please be that vain.

“What do you doubt about me?” The ogre asked, his fists twisting in rage.

“I have heard that you are able to change into any kind of creature you have a mind to. Like…a war elephant, or a lion,” Gabrielle said.
A lion? What was I thinking?

It took all of her will not to run from the room, screaming, when the ogre dove forward, slapping his six-fingered hands onto the ground, and transformed into a lion. She’d seen a painting of a lion once. It barely resembled the snarling beast before her—with paws the size of serving trays, glowing red eyes, and a snarled, matted mane made of black and rust-red hairs.

The ogre—as a lion—swatted a paw, smashing it through a chair. He released a fearsome roar.

The stray cat scurried behind Gabrielle, hissing so much it spat. Its tail puffed up, and its back arched.

“Oh, yes. That is very formidable. Frightening, even,” Gabrielle praised, struggling to keep her voice strong.

The ogre turned back into his ugly body—and she was very glad to see he still possessed his belted loincloth. “All will fear me. There is nothing said about me that I cannot do!” the ogre laughed.