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Heat seared in a thin line of agony across her throat, burrowing deeper, cutting deeper, wet heat spilling, spreading, cooling down her chest, the world spun and twisted and faded.
I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die.
Hands firmly gripped her shoulders. “Hey, hey easy, it’s just me. You’re safe.”
The words meant nothing.
She thrashed and tried to yell, but her voice was caught in her gurgling throat.
“Mira!” the man yelled. “It’s me! It’s Brennan!”
Brennan.
Her brother.
The mender.
Oh.
Her eyes snapped open and she stared up at him, panting for breath. She could barely see him, her vision blurred from sweat or tears or who knows what. She blinked rapidly, trying to focus.
“There you are,” he murmured. The grip of his hands on her shoulders turned to stroking.
“Where else would I be?” She asked, confused.
He let out a bark of choked laughter. “Where else indeed?”
Her brain felt… foggy. “You fix me?” The words rasped against sore and dry tissues.
Brennan picked up a cup from the bedside table and held it for her to sip greedily from. “Fix you? No, I’m not sure even twenty menders could fix you,” he teased lightly, gently thumping her forehead with one finger.
Nose wrinkled, she clumsily swiped at him with a weak snarl. “You know what I mean,” she griped.
“And yet, he has a point,” a deep voice echoed in her mind, followed by a wave of relief and amusement.
Mira’s chest swelled with affection. “Teine,” she whispered softly.
“I am here,” the dragon assured her. “I told you, Mira, we would live to fly another day.”
“How is he?” Brennan asked her, smiling at her distraction.
“Tell the fool I am not his concern.”
Her lips twitched. “He’s fine.”
Brennan gave her a knowing look, then pulled away to sit in the chair pulled up next to her cot. “To answer your question, I mended you, yes,” he told her. “You’ve got a fun new scar. Some time and further mending will ease that, but what’s really concerning are the long-term impacts of losing that much blood. You’ve got a long recovery ahead of you, Mira.”
She grimaced and tried to shrug. Her shoulders didn’t quite move right - it didn’t help that her limbs felt like limp noodles. “Violet kill the bitch, at least?”
Brennan’s thin smile was full of dark satisfaction. “Oh yeah.”
“Good.” Mira smiled back at him, her eyes fluttering shut. “That’s good.”
“Sleep,” Teine said. “The world will still be here when you wake.”
With that dubious comfort, she let the fuzziness of sleep claim her.
She drifted in and out of awareness for a time, occasionally surfacing long enough to hear healers’ voices and the clatter of tools and bottles interspersed with groans of pain and suffering.
The infirmary never was the best place for rest.
At one point, while she hovered between the world of dreams and reality, she became aware of a small weight resting on the middle of her chest.
She sighed and the weight shifted, slid.
Deeply ingrained instinct drove one hand up to secure the weight to her chest. Her hand landed on something warm and incredibly soft.
“‘S nice,” she slurred, even as the waves of sleep started to pull her back under.
There was a chuckle to her left followed by a soft masculine murmur. Then the small weight was lifted away.
Her chest felt cold. She wanted the weight back, whatever it was.
The next day, one of the times Mira woke up, she found a member of her riot sitting at her bedside.
“It awakes,” Messina intoned when he caught her eyes opening.
She scowled at him. Really? It was too early for his nonsense. When Mira told him as much, once her mouth had enough saliva to unstick her tongue from the roof of her mouth, Messina just shook his head.
“It’s almost dinnertime, actually,” he said, with mock disappointment.
Mira huffed. She scrounged to the side with one hand.
Without waiting for her to ask, Messina methodically tucked a hand behind Mira’s head. He didn’t so much lift her as help Mira prop herself up so she could take a drink.
“How long?” she asked. Or, really, croaked.
“Going on a second day,” he sighed. “You managed to miss all the fun.”
Relief and dread tore at her in equal measure. “Stewart?”
Messina smiled softly. “She’s alright. Got a bit burned, but she was patched up and discharged before dinner yesterday.” He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “You took the hardest hit out of all of us.”
“I’d say I’m glad, but frankly I could’ve done without,” Mira admitted. She shifted a little, trying to sit up. Messina’s restraining hand didn’t even reach her before she was slumping back down. “Whoa.” Why was the room spinning? She was mended, the room shouldn’t be spinning, should it?
The curtain around the bed was pulled aside and Violet appeared. “Tell me she did not just try to get out of bed?”
Messina held up his hands in a bid for peace.
“I just wanted to sit up,” she grumbled. “Don’t mother-hen me.”
“Mother-hen? I haven’t even started to mother-hen,” Violet snapped back. She crossed her arms and glared down at Mira, distinctly unimpressed. For all Violet’s aggressive affection, though, there was an edge of hesitance, or wariness.
It hurt Mira’s heart, knowing she put that hesitance there. She’d been so hurt by her siblings keeping Riorson’s fall a secret and what had it mattered in the end? Brennan already told her - Riorson had fallen even further and in doing so had saved Violet.
Had saved them all.
And then she fucking married him.
But it could keep. It could wait for a day when Mira didn’t feel as breakable as Violet currently looked.
“I was mended,” Mira weakly protested. “Your mother-henning will be wasted.” She tried to aim for a teasing tone, but it didn’t feel like she hit the mark.
Still, her sister softened, just a little. “Yes, because mending addresses blood loss.”
The memory of wet heat spreading across her chest flashed through her mind. Mira swallowed and pushed back the urge to shudder. “I’m fine,” she told Violet. Then, absolutely not whining, she added “I just wanted to sit up.”
“You have less coordination right now than the time you came home and tried to convince mom you were sober,” Violet snipped as she stepped close to fuss over Mira’s pillow and blankets.
Messina edged forward, expression eager. “What’s this?”
“Don’t,” Mira moaned.
Violet gleefully ignored her. “When Mira was eighteen, she and her friends -”
“Please, no.”
“- decided to try -”
Mira continued to groan and bicker with Violet as her little sister took full advantage of Mira's weakness to tell Messina embarrassing stories from their childhood. She’d never admit it, but falling asleep to their laughter was worth the humiliation.
There was a weight on her chest again. This time it rested a little higher, a little closer to her neck.
Her eyes were so heavy. Too heavy.
Something rough and a little bit wet began to rub aggressively at her chin.
Her eyes finally cracked open.
An orange blob hovered in front of her face.
She squinted.
The blob turned into a familiar orange kitten.
“Hi, Broccoli,” she whispered, voice rough with sleep.
“Murp,” Broccoli replied before leaning in to start licking her nose.
A disgruntled noise escaped Mira and she scrunched her nose. She tried to escape Broccoli’s attentions by turning her head to the side and ended up with a paw on her cheek as the little cat tried to hold her in place.
“Cat, why?” she grumbled.
“Because she likes you,” a familiar voice said. “Gods know why.”
She cracked one eye open.
Drake Cordella was seated by her bed, one ankle crossed over his knee. He wore his brown flight leathers and had faint lines on his face from goggles. There was a small bandage wrapped around his left thumb.
Mira scowled at him.
Judging by his grin, the effect was ruined by the kitten still insistently grooming her face.
Having had enough of the tongue bath, Mira carefully pulled Broccoli away from her face and shifted to sit up. Unlike the day before, she at least had the strength to sit up.
Drake snatched the pillow of the empty bed beside her to tuck behind her back.
Mira grudgingly thanked him and then paused.
Nestled in her palm was a damp and slightly sticky… potato. She lifted it up.
It was half a small boiled potato and the skin had little puncture marks all over it. Presumably from tiny teeth.
“I tried to take it away, but well,” Drake shrugged and waved a hand at the wriggling kitten Mira was holding close to her chest, “she had opinions. Loud ones.” He settled back into his seat. “Somehow you slept through it.”
“Hn.” Mira glanced between the potato and the kitten. “Thanks, I guess,” she told Broccoli. She dropped her dubious gift on the side table to free up a hand to scratch under Broccoli’s chin. “What are you doing here?”
Drake held up his bandaged hand. “Came to see a healer, and Broccoli insisted on visiting while we were here.”
“Right,” she huffed, not really believing him.
A rough tongue started scrapping over her hand, the licking disrupting Broccoli’s own purring.
Curiosity got the better of Mira. “What happened?” she asked, jerking her chin at his bandaged hand.
Drake looked at Broccoli pointedly.
“No,” Mira gapped.
“Yes,” he drawled back, irked.
An incredulous noise escaped her. “She bit you? What did you do?”
“Nothing!” Drake held up his hands defensively. “Once moment, she was being sweet, the next the little gremlin was drawing blood.”
“Ha!” Mira chortled. Lifting the kitten up to eye level, she said “Good job.”
The man scoffed and stood. “Alright, I’m taking her back before you corrupt her further.”
Protesting, Mira half-heartedly batted at his hands as he reached for Broccoli. Unfortunately for Mira, a healer decided that was the time they needed to conduct a check-up. No cats allowed.
“Fine.” She begrudgingly passed the cat back to Drake.
He tucked Broccoli into the front of his jacket, the wriggling feline no longer fitting quite as well as she did two months ago. Mira watched, eyebrows raised, as the bulge shifted and shoved until a small orange head popped out of the jacket opening just under Drake’s chin.
She was helpless against the bubble of delight that rose in her.
Fighting his own amusement, Drake gave her a short nod and left her to the healer’s tender mercies.
Sharp pinpricks dug into her toes.
Yelping, Mira jerked upright. “What the -?”
“You have a visitor,” Teine informed her, chuckling.
“I can see that.”
Startled by her yelp, Broccoli had frozen, mouth still wrapped around Mira’s blanket covered toe, claws digging into either side of her foot. The little cat stared up at Mira, every muscle tense and her tail thrashing behind her.
Mira’s eyes narrowed.
Broccoli released her foot.
Then the cat reared back to pounce on Mira’s other foot. The thin infirmary blanket offered little protection from needle teeth and nails.
“You little shit!” Mira exclaimed, laughing even as she snatched the kitten up. She tried to tuck Broccoli into one arm so she could lay back, but the little feline fought every one of Mira’s attempts to peacefully snuggle. In the time that had passed since Zehyllna, the little cat had grown, not only losing her kitten fluff, but also turning into a rambunctious juvenile.
“Perhaps allowing the cat to burn off her energy would be the best approach?” Teine suggested.
Hissing as small teeth dug into her and claws dug into her hands and arms, Mira’s eyes scanned their surroundings. There had to be something in the infirmary that she could use as a cat toy instead of letting her hands be gnawed on.
Or her toes.
Nearly an hour later, Drake appeared at her bedside, hands on his hips. He looked distinctly unimpressed as he watched the little orange cat play with the ends of the shoelace Mira dangled in front of her. Then he turned his gaze to Mira. “Resorting to cat-napping now?”
“I’m just defending myself from the toe-biter,” Mira refuted. “Besides, I can’t be blamed if your cat likes my company better.”
Rolling his eyes, Drake scooped up Broccoli mid-pounce.
Broccoli peered up at him, eyes wide and ears folded back.
Mira watched, biting her lip, as Broccoli dropped her makeshift toy to instead chomp down on Drake’s thumb, front paws wrapped around the appendage.
Barely wincing, Drake scowled down at the kitten. “I spend two hours searching for you and this is how you treat me?” The man continued scolding the little cat as he spun on heel and began striding for the infirmary entrance.
“Bye Broccoli!” Mira called out, annoyed Drake couldn’t be bothered to say it.
Over the flier’s shoulder, an orange head appeared and bright little eyes made contact with Mira’s.
Mira jerked her chin towards Drake, mouthing ‘Get him’ to Broccoli.
Without breaking eye contact, Broccoli lunged for the flier’s vulnerable ear just as he crossed the infirmary threshold. His startled squawk could be heard from the outer hall.
Flopping back into her pillows, Mira cackled wildly. She felt more alive than she had in weeks.
“No,” she said flatly.
“It’s a bad idea,” Teine agreed.
Drake sighed like she was the unreasonable one. “It’ll only be a day. Maybe two.”
“Do you not see that I’m still in the infirmary?” Mira gestured to her surroundings. “Pretty sure that makes me the worst option for kitten-sitting right off the bat.”
“And normally, I would agree with you,” Drake replied, nodding.
She squinted at him. “But?”
“But there is literally no one else available.” He dropped a basket of supplies on her bedside table, ignoring her noises of protest.
“Syrena?”
“On her own mission.”
“Cat?”
“Allergic.”
Mira raised one eyebrow sceptically. “Cat is allergic to cats?”
He gave her a droll look. “The irony has not escaped me either.”
Down the bond, Teine huffed. “Less like irony and more like convenience.”
“My thought as well,” Mira replied to Teine, then asked Drake “How allergic are we talking? Because if we are talking sniffles, I think she’d still be a better choice.”
The cat got dropped in her lap.
“Even Violet would be a better choice,” Mira protested. Her hands curled around the small body, stroking the soft fur.
“I think dealing with her new duties as Duchess of Tyrrendor means she has enough going on,” Drake muttered.
She winced. “Alright, fair.” Mira might have forgotten that tidbit of news.
“You forgot your sister was Duchess? Or that she married a dark wielder?” Teine asked.
“Both,” Mira sent back and shamelessly added “I have to or I’ll end up hunting down my new brother-in-law.”
Teine huffed. “Which won’t end well for anyone.”
“But it might be fun?”
Mira got the distinct impression Teine rolled his eyes.
“Look,” Drake was saying. “Either it’s you and the infirmary, or I risk her climbing out of my jacket mid-flight again. Once she’s older, I’ll be able to leave her alone more.”
Mira groaned. “This is going to end terribly.”
“Thank you,” Drake told her, recognizing she was giving in. He started walking away. “See you tomorrow,” he called over his shoulder. “Maybe.”
Hands wrapped around the Broccoli’s ribcage, just below her shoulders, Mira lifted her up to eye level. “Is there any chance you are going to behave and stay with me the whole time?”
Broccoli gave her a baleful look.
Chuckling, Teine chimed in. “I agree with the cat. That was a foolish question.”
“You’re not helping.” She set the cat back down and groaned again. “This is going to go great,” she told the cat, sarcasm heavy in her voice.
Humming, Teine said “I give it until dinnertime.”
In the end, they lasted two hours. Teine was reluctantly impressed.
Mira had been doing a decent job of keeping the little cat occupied, aided by a toy made of familiar pale brown feathers. However, Broccoli was a bit lacking in the grace department to go with her youthful energy. As she batted and pounced and tugged at the toy, the little cat stopped paying attention to her surroundings.
One misplaced step and Broccoli went tumbling backwards off the side of the bed.
Mira lunged forward.
Peering over the edge of the mattress, she saw that Broccoli had landed on her feet and was staring up at Mira, dumbstruck by the sudden events.
Scrambling up, Mira tossed her blankets to the side and dropped her feet to the floor.
Broccoli broke free of her stun and bolted.
“Ah, crap,” she muttered.
Orange fur disappeared under one bed, only to reappear on the top of another.
The patient occupying the bed jolted in surprise and so did the healer checking him over. Broccoli, on the other hand, temporarily took flight from the force of her startle, twisting in midair and darting to the other side of the room the moment her paws touched the ground.
Hopping out of the bed and ignoring the way the room briefly spun, Mira headed for the place she last saw Broccoli. She ducked her head under the bed.
Nothing.
A squeal came from behind her.
Dread filled her as she straightened and turned towards the sound.
It was a healer, squealing as she rapidly scuttled backwards in a vain attempt to escape the kitten attacking her feet. Well, attacking her shoelaces really.
Maybe Mira shouldn’t have used shoelaces for a cat toy.
Needless to say, the healers were unimpressed by the events. They summarily declared Mira well enough to finish her recovery in her own room, provided she takes the cat with her, and cleared her for light activities. Then she was gently kicked out of the infirmary, basket under one arm, cat tucked in the other.
“Perhaps the cat is good for something,” she told Teine as she made her way back to her assigned room.
“Perhaps you should drop the cat off with someone else,” Teine suggested. “You could test the truth of the annoying one’s allergies.”
It was a tempting thought. “Do we really want to subject Broccoli to that?”
“... I reserve judgement. For now.”
Mira chuckled and stepped into her room. A wave of exhaustion washed over her and she dropped the basket on the floor by the desk. There was a blanket Mira assumed was for Broccoli’s bed, along with a few other essential items tucked away in the basket. She set the blanket bundle in a sunny spot by the window and dropped the little cat onto it.
Then she flopped herself face first into her own blanket covered bed. It would probably be a good idea to change out of her infirmary garb. Was she going to do that? No. She was going to take a nap in her own bed, clothing be damned.
If only her temporary feline roommate had gotten the memo.
Four clusters of needle nails dug into the soft skin of her left butt cheek.
Mira hollered, her entire body jolting and twisting. “Cat!” She rolled on to her side and glared.
Broccoli stood at the end of the bed, one paw raised, tail cutting wide swathes through the air, and stared back at Mira. After a beat, she dropped her paw and padded up the length of the bed to tuck herself along Mira’s chest.
“Excuse me?” She gaped at the sheer audacity.
Broccoli stretched her body out, her little head falling into the curve of Mira’s neck. She bumped her head against the woman’s chin, purring loud enough for Mira to feel it in her chest.
As the little cat persistently rubbed her head and cheek against her, Mira’s shoulders lost their tension and she sagged into the pillows. Broccoli curled into the curve of Mira’s body, looking utterly content.
Manipulative little furball, Mira thought. Her eyelids dropped as her body sank further into the mattress, dozing off to soft rumbling purrs.
Tap tap tap.
Her nose scrunched.
Tap tap tap.
Her eyes fluttered open. Weighted and heavy, her body lay limp over the covers of her bed. Idly, she noted her toes were cold.
Tap tap tap.
She blinked, her mind finally registering the sound. Someone was tapping on the door.
Tap tap tap.
They also weren’t giving up.
She heaved herself up on sleep-weak limbs, the jostling of the mattress driving a disgruntled mew out of the lump of fur next to her. Idly, the woman ran a hand softly over the little cat's back and then stood. She stumbled towards the door.
Tap tap tap.
With a yank, she swung to the door open, expression icy enough to freeze lesser men.
Brennan, unfortunately, was not a lesser man. Instead, he presented the tray in his hands like the bribe and shield it was. “I brought food.”
Thunk!
The siblings looked down.
Broccoli backed away from the door, shaking her head, eyes dazed.
“Did that cat just…?” Brennan’s question trailed off.
“Run face first into the door?” Mira finished for him. “Yes, yes, I think she did.”
The little cat dropped on her haunches and peered up at Mira. Seeing she had the woman’s attention, Broccoli meowed mournfully.
Letting out a long sigh and scrubbing at her eye with the heel of one hand, she turned back to Brennan and his offerings. “Did you bring anything for the cat?”
The man grinned and pushed his way into her room. “Sure did. Tell me, how does a woman on bedrest in the infirmary get saddled with Cordella’s little bundle of joy?”
Mira glowered at him. “Phrase it that way again, and you’ll get practice mending a knife wound to your liver.”
He rolled his eyes and dropped the tray on her desk. Then he selected a small plate of what looked like chopped chicken and set it on the floor next to Broccoli’s blanket bed.
The kitten dove into her meal with gusto, grunts and growls emitted between each bite. Her enthusiasm nudged the plate in tiny increments across the floor.
“Healthy appetite,” Brennan noted, eyebrows raised. He gave Mira a speculative look. “What about you? How is your appetite?”
It was like the question itself summoned her hunger, her stomach audibly growling. “Starved, actually.” The feeling was a notable difference from the previous day, when only mild hunger pangs struck her between bouts of sleep.
“Good.” Brennan was pleased. He gestured towards Mira’s empty desk chair.
Waving him off, she snatched up one of the remaining plates on the tray and settled on the foot of her bed.
Shrugging, Brennan took the chair for himself and passed her a fork before grabbing his own plate.
Mira dug in. Unsurprisingly, her plate was laden with slices of red meat, dark leafy greens, and boiled potatoes. All things recommended by her healers.
Proving the Sorrengail tendency toward mother-henning, Brennan urged her to drink more water as she ate. “You need more fluids,” he touted, unrepentant, when she growled at him to ease up.
About halfway through the contents of her plate, she started to slow down.
Brennan chose that moment to restart the conversation. “So, you didn’t answer the question. Why are you the one looking after Cordella’s cat?”
“Apparently, I was the only option.” She sipped her water.
Shaking his head, Brennan leaned back in his seat. “I find that hard to believe.”
“Same, but,” she shrugged one shoulder, “there’s a reason he’s the only flier or rider I’ve known to have a pet.”
“True.” He placed his empty plate back on the tray, then leaned over to scoop up the small plate that Broccoli’s enthusiasm had wedged between a leg of the desk and the wall.
The little cat stepped up to Brennan and placed one paw on his shin, licking her chops as she gazed up at him. The man paused, looking torn as he gazed at the empty plate in his hands and then at the big eyes of the kitten at his feet.
“I don’t have any more,” he told the cat apologetically, shoulders slumped.
“She doesn’t need anymore,” Mira said. “You brought her plenty.” She set her own plate on the bed next to her leg, still occasionally picking at the remains.
Brennan hesitated, chewing on his cheek. “Are you sure? She still looks hungry. I can probably get more from the kitchens.”
Her eyes narrowed. “This is how Chester got so fat.”
He bristled at her dry accusation. “Excuse me?”
“You think none of us noticed the way you always slipped him treats and extra portions?” Mira asked, one eyebrow raised in silent judgement. “Did you think you were being sneaky?”
“I - well - he,” Brennan stuttered, scratching at his jaw as his cheeks grew rosy.
Mira was tickled by the sight. These days, Brennan was usually too serious and self righteous for his own good. Seeing him so flustered was an unexpected joy.
Finally, he huffed and waved one hand, palm up. “He’d always give me that look, ok? How was I supposed to say no to that?”
“The same way the rest of us did.” Mira snorted and leaned back on her hands. “That cat knew you were a soft touch.”
“Soft touch?” Brennan echoed the words in disbelief. “I’ll have you know -” His words cut off and his eyes suddenly widened. His lips twitched as he pressed them tightly together.
“Have me know what? Not even Violet gave in to Chester’s demands and she cried over Mom killing a grasshopper that one time, remember?” Mira scoffed and sat up. As she moved, her hand brushed the plate.
And fur.
Her eyes darted down in time to see Broccoli snatching a boiled potato from her plate. Before she could react, the feline menace dove off the bed and then under it.
“Gods dammit, Broccoli!” Mira jumped off of the bed, nearly spilling the plate. Her knees hit the floor with a painful thud and she snatched up the bed skirt to scan the darkness under the bed.
Brennan hooted with laughter. “I thought she was going for the beef,” he wheezed. “But she was stalking the potatoes.” His words dissolved into loud guffaws.
“Why didn’t you fucking warn me?” She dropped down to one shoulder to better see.
Feline eyes gleamed in the dark, just beyond her reach. Well, from this end of the bed at least.
Mira lurched to her feet and rounded the corner of the bed.
“Oh calm down.” Brennan wiped at his eyes, voice breathy. “One potato won’t kill her.”
When Mira peered under the bed that time, Broccoli once again peered back from a position just out of her reach. “Damn it.” Standing, she dropped her hands on her hips and glared at her brother. “I’m not worried about the cat. I’m worried about where the potato is going to end up.”
His brows furrowed and his head tilted to one side. “She’ll eat it.” He spoke like it was the obvious outcome.
Mira’s glare darkened. “If she doesn’t, it’ll end up somewhere I won’t find it until it’s grown hair and legs and maybe full sentience.” She leaned towards him. “If I find a hairy potato, I’m dropping it in your bed.”
He grimaced. “Noted.” In a bid for peace, he held up the last plate on the tray. “You want pie?”
Her lips pursed. Her eyes flicked to the plate, noting the golden crust and the glistening fruit filling. “Yes,” she finally relented, settling back on the foot of the bed.
She decided against smacking the smug look off his face. No matter how satisfying, he might drop the pie.
Later, after Brennan left, Mira changed out of her infirmary garb and climbed back into bed, under the covers this time.
Following her, Broccoli settled on her chest once more.
Mira lifted one hand to rub at her shoulders, feeling the contours of the little bones under her fingers. Eyes shut, she mumbled “Should have named you ‘Potatoes.’”
The next morning, Mira was woken by teeth digging none too gently into her ear. It was followed up with tugging.
Mira groggily batted at the orange gremlin and sat up.
The kitten danced away before darting forward to pounce on her knee. Blearily, Mira watched as the little cat tried her hardest to gnaw on the blanket covered limb.
“I take it, you’re hungry.” She sighed and checked the time. Well, the great hall would be opening for breakfast in about ten minutes.
Teine spoke drowsily down the bond. “No potatoes this time.” She could feel how much he didn’t want to be awake.
“Go back to sleep,” she replied. “There’s no need for you to be up now too.” She abandoned her warm blankets and started getting ready for the day. It took a little longer than usual when she had to be careful of the kitten weaving between her feet.
“I would, if the youngling and Tairn would cease their bickering,” Teine complained.
A smile pulled at her lips. “Andarna woke up hungry again?”
“That question assumes she has ever woken up not hungry.” As he spoke, his words grew in clarity, a clear sign of the dragon shaking off the cobwebs of sleep. “Perpetual hunger is a trait of all juveniles.”
The sudden jerking of her pant leg drew Mira’s attention downward.
Broccoli, giving up on any form of patience, had started to climb her leg. When the kitten made it up to her thigh, the fabric was tight enough for the little nails to bite into Mira’s skin beneath.
Biting back a hiss, the rider scooped up the little cat. “Alright, alright,” she said with exasperation. “I’m getting you breakfast, but you have to stay here.” Mira set the cat down on the bed and headed for the door.
The kitten barreled into her feet, nearly sending them both sprawling.
Mira was only able to make her escape through the creative use of wards and the feathered cat toy. Snapping the door shut behind her, Mira let out a sigh of relief. There was no way she wanted to navigate the breakfast crowd with a hungry climbing kitten.
In short order, Mira retrieved meals for herself and the little cat from the great hall before returning to her room. Unlike the night before, she ate at her desk, one eye on the enthusiastic kitten. By the time she finished eating, the little cat had lazily spread out on her side in a convenient beam of sunlight, paws kneading the air as she stretched.
Figuring Broccoli had the right idea, Mira decided to treat herself to her own bit of lazy warmth. There was a luxurious bathtub in the attached ensuite calling her name and she was going to finally take advantage of it.
She took her time getting everything ready, starting with filling the tub and ending with lining up her tiny collection of soaps and scented oil on the tile ledge of the garden-style tub. All of the small bottles had been a gift from Violet. Her little sister had started giving her the small bottles years ago, none very big, all of them in the kind of mild, delicate scents Mira loved.
Violet had started the habit after seeing a bottle in Mira’s possession. Mira had purchased it in a moment of weakness, craving a small bit of comfort. Of course, because she’d bought such a small bottle, she’d been afraid of using it, of seeing the bottle empty too quickly.
Then Violet had seen it and on Mira’s next birthday, two bottles had been nestled in her pack with a ribbon tied around them.
Her throat tight, Mira swallowing harshly. Steam rose from the tub and she blindly selected one of the oils to add to the water.
Soft florals sweetened by vanilla rose from the bath. Mira’s eyes shut, the heat of the steam making them watery and her nose started to prickle with moisture.
Sniffing deeply, she stood and hastily stripped. The water was warm, just on the side of too warm and exactly the way she needed it. She sank down into the heat and rested her head on a folded towel. Her eyes drifted shut.
From the other side of the door came the unmistakable sound of a cat screaming.
Mira’s eyes flew open and she was up and out of the bath before the second cry started. One hand snatched up a towel as the other reached for the door, her heart pounding as fear and adrenaline spiked. Broccoli, it had to be Broccoli, was screaming, yowling for all she was worth, the sound breaking as it reached the limits of her vocals cords, and cats don’t do that, not without being scared or hurt, and Mira could only imagine what had happened, all the ways she could be hurt as she swung open the door -
Broccoli pranced into the bathroom, head and tail held high, purring as she rubbed on Mira's leg in an epitome of feline smugness.
“You little shit,” she breathed. Like cutting the strings on a marionette, Mira’s body fell limp against the bathroom door. She’d really thought she’d find the cat dying, Broccoli’d sounded so strained and so loud. But no, it had just been a ploy to get Mira to open the door.
She was pretty sure she wasn’t supposed to test her heart like this.
In an act of petty revenge, Mira dropped her towel over the little cat and watched the squirming lump struggle to find her way out from underneath it, all while Mira climbed back into the tub.
The kitten’s head finally popped up from the swathes of white to meow indignantly at Mira.
Mira smirked, utterly unapologetic as she settled back into the water.
Finally freeing herself from the damp towel, Broccoli set about exploring the bathroom, studying and sniffing everything within reach. Her investigation took her in a large circle around the room and ended with her. She sat back on her haunches and meowed inquisitively at Mira.
Mira peeked at her through slitted lids, but otherwise didn’t react.
Broccoli meowed again. When she still didn’t get a response, the little cat leapt up to the tile ledge. With careful steps around the tub, the kitten continued her earlier explorations. She sniffed at the little bottles and studied to faucet before stepping around it without touching it.
Then the water caught her attention. Near Mira’s feet, Broccoli crouched down on her belly and extended her head over the open space of the tub to sniff. Curiosity not satisfied, Broccoli shifted and stretched out one paw, eyes locked on the misty swirl of oil and soap over the surface of the water.
Mira frowned, not trusting that Broccoli wouldn’t try and lick whatever soaps and oils she was going to get on her paw. She lifted one foot, nudging the little paw as she firmly said “No.”
Later, Mira would realize the act as a critical error in judgement.
So focused on the water, Broccoli hadn’t noticed Mira’s movement until her toes were tapping against her paw. The little cat startled, springing high into the air.
Mira gasped.
Then Broccoli landed in the water.
A whirlwind of fur and water exploded over the tub as Broccoli burst into a flurry of feline panic. Mira tried to catch her, to calm her, but only drove her panic higher and Mira swiftly lost track of things as the chaos escalated.
When calm returned to the bathroom, Mira was standing outside of the tub, panting and skin stinging from cat scratches. Less than half the water she’d started with remained in the tub, every single one of her towels lay sodden on the floor, two of her bottles lay broken on the floor and spilled sweetly scented oils across the tile, and Broccoli was cowering beneath the bed.
Mira took in the disaster, eyes wild. “What the fuck?”
“Mira, why do you allow this cat to continually outsmart you?” Teine whined. He actually whined. The dragon continued his complaints. “Where has your intelligence gone?”
It was almost worth it to hear her dragon be so undignified.
Almost.
As it was, Mira glared harder at the little cat awkwardly perched on the top of a hung tapestry and ignored the dragon’s words.
“I can go get a chair? Or a stool?” Dain offered. He also stared up at the little cat.
Broccoli did not appear to appreciate having their attention, her diminutive body straining to yowl and scream at them as loudly as she could. Her fur stood on end, bristling, as she hissed and spit between yowls.
“Maybe.” She ran a hand through her hair, thinking through the options.
Earlier, Teine had told her a certain flier had returned from his mission. So, Mira had tucked Broccoli into her arms and decided to meet the flier herself, when the kitten suddenly started thrashing and growling. She climbed and squirmed through Mira’s restraining hands onto her shoulders.
So distracted was she, Mira didn’t even notice Dain’s approach until he was standing next to her, asking “Need some help?”
Mira opened her mouth to answer and Broccoli bit her. Surprised, Mira’s hold on her loosened and the kitten took full advantage to race down Mira’s leg. Then she raced up the nearest wall, her nails scrabbling along the stone masonry, until she reached the tapestry serving as her current perch. Seeing the threads snagged by Broccoli’s nails, Mira hoped the tapestry wasn’t an heirloom to the Riorson family.
The family whose surviving member turned venin and married her sister.
Nevermind.
She hoped the tapestry was priceless.
Teine hummed. “You are a vindictive one, aren’t you?”
“No, the vindictive one was my mother,” Mira pointed out.
“Like mother, like daughter, then.”
Mira tried not to flinch at the thought. She still needed to get the cat down. Shrugging at Dain, she said “Let’s try it.”
With a nod, Dain stepped into the closest room and grabbed a chair. While he was gone, the little cat seemed to calm some, her fur starting to settle. Then he dragged a chair beneath the tapestry and Broccoli started yowling again.
Certain it was going to end badly, Mira stepped up on the chair and reached for the little cat. Broccoli didn’t move, but she remained just out of Mira’s reach.
Dain held a hand up to Mira. “Let me try.”
Resigned, Mira grasped his hand and stepped down off the chair. Taller than her, Dain was able to reach the little cat while standing on the chair. Contrary to Mira’s fears, Broccoli didn’t try to climb further up the wall.
She flew down Dain’s back instead, yowling all the while and sprang off his lower back to land on Mira’s shoulders. Then she went straight for the opening of Mira’s jacket, diving headfirst under the leather. Mira reflexively wrapped her arms around her torso, effectively trapping the kitten in place.
Dain and Mira stared at each other, eyes wide.
“At least she’s off the wall now?” Dain offered, tone uncertain as he gave her a helpless shrug and hopped down from the chair.
Another voice spoke up from behind Mira. “Sorrengail, just what are you doing to my cat?”
Mira spun on her heel.
Drake stood there, gaping at her and the wriggling lump she was half-hunched over.
“Cordella,” she greeted, then quickly undid the fastenings on her jacket. “You know what? You deserve this chaos gremlin.” She scooped the angry kitten out of her jacket and passed her into Drake’s surprised arms.
Broccoli, on her back from her wriggling, paused when she saw Drake’s face. Then her eyes drifted to the left to settle on Dain. Her pupils went big and round.
The sound of Drake’s yelp after Broccoli chomped down on his hand was a memory Mira was going to hold very dear for years to come. She laughed about it the entire walk to the valley, where Teine waited to lay eyes on his rider.
Someone was knocking on the door. Tap tap tap.
Mira’s head popped up.
They knocked again.
Rolling her eyes, Mira climbed out of bed. A few short steps and she was swinging the door open. “Brennan, do you have any -”
Drake Cordella stood before her, barefoot, wearing loose fitting pants and a soft shirt. He was scrubbing at his face with one hand, but dropped it when Mira opened the door, allowing her full view of the bags under his eyes. “I’m sorry to wake you, but -”
Broccoli pounced on her feet, teeth digging into the hem of Mira’s pants as she rolled and kicked her feet in play.
“That,” Drake finished. “Actually, no. I’m here because she sat at my door and screamed first.” He scrubbed both hands over his face.
Mira ushered him into the room and stepped to the basket of Broccoli’s things she still had. She’d forgotten it earlier in the day, when taking the little cat back to him, but it looked like that was going to be a fortuitous mistake after all.
She pulled out Broccoli’s favorite feathered toy and the kitten positively lit up, bouncing up on her hind feet and reaching for the toy even while Mira held it too high to play with.
“I did mean to give this back to you,” Mira told Drake, settling at the head of her bed, back braced by the headboard. “I just forgot earlier.” She gestured to the space next to her while Broccoli hopped up onto the bed in front of her.
“I figured.” He rounded the bed and sat where she indicated. Leaning back against the headboard, he let his shoulders slump.
She eyed his form. “You look tired.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? I wonder why.” His tone was heavy with sarcasm as stared down at the kitten, one eye twitching.
Mira chuckled and bounced the toy, tugging the string when Broccoli pulled it back. The little cat rolled and kicked, biting into the feathers. “When I tried to take a bath earlier, I got to discover that the little miss doesn’t like closed doors.”
Drake groaned, head falling forward into his hands. “I was dead asleep and then I thought she was dying. She was just sitting at the door. I opened it and she went straight to your door.”
“Well, at least she didn’t destroy your bathroom.” When he gave her an incredulous look through his fingers, she added “You might owe me a couple bottles of bath oils.”
Lowering his hands, he squinted at her. Then he shook his head. “I’m not sure I want to know.” He braced his hands on his knees and hid a yawn into his shoulder. “I really am sorry we woke you.”
“You didn’t,” Mira replied. She swished the toy, smiling as Broccoli went tumbling after it. “I wasn’t able to sleep.” She shrugged. “I probably slept too much earlier or something.”
Drake hummed but didn’t say anything.
She stayed focused on the little cat, on keeping her occupied and not the man sitting next her. As she danced the bundle of feathers across the floor, a thought occurred to her. “Are these Sovadunn’s feathers?”
No reply.
Mira glanced over, saw Drake’s eyes had fallen shut and his head was drooping. She bumped his elbow and his hand slipped off his knee, jolting him awake.
“Hm?” He looked at her, but his eyes were clearly struggling to focus.
Mira sighed softly. “I can look after Broccoli for the night.”
“Ok,” he agreed. Then slid down enough to rest his head on her pillows.
Not quite what she meant, but she supposed it was fine enough.
If, by morning, she had also fallen asleep on top of the covers, a little orange cat slumbering between them, well, she supposed that was fine enough too.