Princess cat. Natalie Yacobson

what’s the matter! Why does everybody keep telling him, «Don’t go»? Is that where the devil is waiting ahead?

      «You won’t come back like me, you fool!» warned the skull as Brendan gently stepped over it and went on.

      If everyone warned not to go ahead, then there’s a fabulous treasure waiting there, Brendan thought.

      The white stone castle loomed in the distance, against the blue skies. Its towers had the color of puffy clouds floating above them. The fortress wall was also white.

      It would take an hour to reach it, Brendan estimated in his mind, but he did not reach it until late afternoon. The torches on the parapet were already blazing, illuminating the bizarre architecture of the walls.

      Up close, the castle was even more beautiful than he could have imagined. Vines stretched along the walls like a luxurious net. The walls themselves abounded with stucco decorations and alabaster statues.

      The gates were open, as if they were already waiting for a guest. The caryatid winked at him. Or was it just a dream?

      Outside the gate was a beautiful garden of roses, jasmines, magnolias, and exotic plants.

      The avenue of rosebushes leading to the open castle doors was empty. No guests but Brendan himself, no guards.

      There are also bas-reliefs of graceful cats engraved on the doors that open. And inside you can see tapestries depicting a cat’s hunt for mice and birds. The interior of the castle was decorated either by a great humorist or an avid feline.

      Brendan whistled when he noticed a fountain inside the spacious hallway, with wine pouring out instead of water. And he wanted to drink from the well! Of course there was no bucket or glass beside the fountain, but if he was thirsty he could always take a scoop of wine with his hand. It was sweet and invigorating, of the highest grade for sure! It was not until he was thirsty that Brendon remembered that the wine might be bewitched, or worse, poisoned.

      «Look who’s here!»

      A pleasant girl’s voice came from the top of the stairs. Brendon looked up and saw two slender ladies. One of them, a brunette in a blue dress with bows, was an incomparable beauty. The second was dressed even more splendidly, but for some reason she hid her face under a veil. Was she a sorceress, perhaps? Effigenia also liked to throw a black veil over her head from time to time. She was rumored to enhance her connection to the spirits that way. Someone more realistic asserted that she was hiding age-related wrinkles. Since she used the veil most often in bright daylight, the second is more likely. What about the mistress of this castle? Brendan was sure it was the lady under the veil who was the mistress, because only a princess could afford such an expensive outfit, embroidered with gold thread and pearls. Is she hiding her face because she has made some elaborate vow to the gods? Or is it because she is ugly?

      In any case, Brendan was more attracted to the first girl. She had black sable eyebrows, violet eyes, a chiseled profile, and soft dark hair that cascaded down her bare shoulders. In a word – beautiful! Except that her plump pink lips pouted dismissively at the sight of a mere minstrel. Perhaps she was waiting for a prince. A mere musician showed up. And he was in his dusty clothes. If only she knew how difficult it was to run through the magic fields without tearing his clothes.

      «It is another guest!» She blurted out phlegmatically, as if Brendan were a disappointment to her.

      «I am not a guest. I am an employee,» he immediately tried to prove his usefulness and showed her the lute. «I am a minstrel.»

      It was as if the beauty had not heard him.

      «We’ve had many guests before, and they’ve all disappointed us. Maybe we’ll have better luck with this one.»

      What’s she talking about? And what’s with the way she talks about him like he’s a piece of furniture? Either he’s being deliberately mocked, or he’s misunderstood something.

      «If I’m not welcome here, I’ll be going,» Brendan was reluctant to leave, but he turned around defiantly.

      «You’re not going anywhere,» the pretty girl said arrogantly. «We don’t let our guests leave so quickly.»

      Would she go down the stairs to the hall to greet him as usual, or should he ignore decorum and go up himself? There are no guards around, so you can behave however you want.

      Brendan brazenly went up himself, though no one invited him. The flight of stairs was even more chic than the one below. And the brunette was even prettier up close. Except that in the light of the sconces you could see the deep scratches on her neck and shoulders.

      «A cat scratched you, too!» Brendan wanted to roll up his sleeve and show her the scratches, but she snorted angrily.

      «What makes you think it’s a cat?»

      «I just thought…»

      He thought he’d found a comrade in grief.

      «I know from experience that pampered palace cats are not always affectionate to the lords’ minions.

      «Watch your tongue. You insult us.»

      «Whom do you mean? Are they you, her, the cats? Or are they the minions of noble lords?» Brendan realized that if the beautiful woman was the mistress’ companion, then the word «hangers-on» might have been applied to her before he had. Then no wonder she was so angry. It was not clear why her mistress suddenly felt so unwell. The lady under the veil almost fainted.

      Brendan could only now see how splendid her attire was. The corset was embroidered with tiny diamonds, the sleeves were decorated with sapphires, and the layered skirts were made of the most expensive Aluar’s brocade. Only kings could afford such. The lady herself, judging by her graceful figure, is worthy of the costume. Her waist is as narrow as a hornet’s waist. Her movements are supple. Her posture is haughty. What is her face like, he wondered? It can’t be an ugly face in such a graceful lady! Her voice is very pleasant.

      «Do not be offended, Rebecca. He meant no harm,» said the veiled lady to her companion, or lady’s confidante, or servant.

      «You are an angel of mercy! You know what I mean!» Brendan encouraged his hostess. «By the way, I am a very talented minstrel. My music makes people, and even snakes, feel as euphoric as if they had gone to heaven.»

      Well, if you don’t praise yourself, no one will know how good you are! Rebecca looked at Brendan with great doubt. He wasn’t lying. She was the only one who was a liar. The scratches on her skin were obviously cat’s scratches. Only a cat could have made such marks on her shoulders, her neck, part of her cheek, even her arms. Brendan only now considered how serious the damage was. Maybe that’s what made her so angry. He couldn’t handle the Bastard himself, so he endured the pain of the scratches. It was impossible to negotiate peace and friendship with the royal cat. Thankfully, Rebecca’s thin scratches on her cheek didn’t spoil her at all. They were fresh. You could still see blood on them. But when they healed, there might not be any scars left. Brendan himself had hardly any scars from the Bastard’s claws.

      «Cats, when they scratch, they just play,» he whispered to Rebecca. «Next time you don’t play with the pet with your bare hands, you’d better take the ribbon.»

      Rebecca herself almost hissed with anger at the friendly advice, like a real cat.

      «Idiot!» She muttered to herself under her breath.

      «He us so handsome and so stupid,» her veiled companion said thoughtfully.

      «What’s that?» Brendan couldn’t help it.

      «It’s all right.»

      «You need your rest. We have a bedroom for guests,» said Rebecca, who had taken a candle from the ornamental table, though there was enough light from the sconces on the walls.

      «You must have hundreds of bedrooms here,» Brendan followed the ladies inside the castle, marveling at the lavish surroundings.