Puss in Boots (Timeless Fairy Tales Book 6) (10 page)

“It’s a brawl,” Steffen agreed, grimacing when a bandit landed a glancing blow to the side of his head. “And madness,” he added.

“We’re not outnumbered, but it’s too chaotic,” Gabrielle said as the rain poured from the sky. She swung at a bandit who had a woman slung over his shoulder and whacked him in the backs of his knees, toppling him.

Steffen pulled two bandits off a villager and smashed their skulls together. “Here, stand at my back,” Steffen instructed, pulling Gabrielle away from her fallen foe.

“What? Why?”

“It’s too dangerous to go with an unguarded back in this crowd. You watch my back, and I’ll watch yours,” Steffen said, moving close enough so his back brushed Gabrielle’s shoulder blades.

“This is incredible,” Gabrielle said with a reckless smile as she adjusted her grip on her slippery weapon.

“
What
?” Steffen said, swinging around to face her before he remembered himself and repositioned his body, fending off an attack from a bandit. “What would ever cause you to think that?”

Gabrielle laughed, an infectious sound that made the villager standing nearest to her grin. “Don’t you feel alive?”

“I feel that I could be impaled if I make a mistake,” Steffen said, disarming a bandit and kicking him to a group of villagers waiting with rope.

“I’m sorry for your sake. Life is more interesting when it’s an adventure,” Gabrielle said, her soaked skirts sticking to her legs.

“Are you
mad
?” Steffen demanded.

“No,” Gabrielle said, lifting her hoe as she eyed a bandit. “I’m
free
.” She hurled the hoe—hitting the bandit square in the head. He held his head and yowled, and several villagers descended on him.

The fight lasted several minutes. Some of the bandits tried to run, but the villagers and Steffen’s soldiers chased after them through the rain and mud like bloodhounds.

“I’m impressed,” Gabrielle said, wiping rain from her brow when the fighting was over. “I thought you were a soldier, but you’re a halfway decent fighter,” she said, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet with unspent energy.

Steffen squinted at her. “You weren’t joking, were you? You really enjoyed that.”

“Of course,” Gabrielle said, wringing water from her hair even though it still poured.

Steffen shrugged as he bent to tighten the knots of a bandit’s restraints. “You were more helpful than I thought you would be.”

Gabrielle snorted.

“I mean it,” Steffen said, wiping mud from his thighs when he straightened up. “You handled yourself well.”

Gabrielle’s smile was quieter as the rain seeped through her clothes, chilling her. “Thank you. You were right: it was better to bring the fight into the village so your men could help us.”

“As much as I appreciate the acknowledgement, I must admit I thought we would find them much sooner,” Steffen said. He tried to restore order to his perfect blond hair, but it appeared to be a useless endeavor. In the sputtering light of the lanterns and torches, with his perfect looks rain spattered and mussed from the fight, Steffen looked much more…
real
. His clothes were smeared with mud, and he had a cut on his cheek, but his face wasn’t plastered into a handsome, pleasing expression.

“It turned out great, didn’t it? And that’s all that matters,” Gabrielle said, watching drenched villagers haul away a few of the bandits. (This time the cowshed would be guarded.)

“Alright, I shall, for once in my life, admit defeat. Lady Gabrielle, I acted poorly when I met you. I regret my conduct now, having fought with you and having witnessed your charming personality transformation,” Steffen said, bowing.

“I reacted with quite a bit of spite,” Gabrielle acknowledged. “So, let’s call it a draw and forget about it—although you should never ask a lady about her sleeping arrangements.”

“Consider that information noted,” Steffen said. “I suppose I should go check on my father, but later tonight or perhaps tomorrow I expect I shall see—”

“There you are, Gabrielle, looking as filthy as a dormouse. Lena will have to draw another bath for you,” Puss said, trotting up to them. He traveled flush against the homes and buildings—leaving him dry in spite of the heavy rains.

“Puss, where have you been? I screamed all across town for you—the bandits attacked again,” Gabrielle said.

“So I noticed,” Puss said, pawing the head of a knocked-out bandit before retreating to the shelter of an alley.

“—cat,” Steffen said, his blue eyes enlarging as he stared at Puss. “Talking cat.”

“I told you he was magic,” Gabrielle said, unable to keep smugness out of her voice. “That will teach you not to believe me, you arrogant boaster.”

“Ahh, Crown Prince Steffen, how good it is to make your acquaintance. I just had the most charming conversation with your father.”

“
Prince
?” Gabrielle said, fastening her gaze on Steffen.

“Talking cat,” Steffen dumbly repeated.

Gabrielle gaped at the handsome prince in horror. She had just spent a good portion of the evening verbally abusing the future monarch of Arcainia! She could be tossed in a dungeon—not that Steffen was likely to be so bitter after the conversation they had just shared, but still!

Gabrielle scooped up Puss, who yowled in protest. “Ew—you are soaked worse than a frog. How disgusting!”

“A cat that talks. You own it,” Steffen repeated, as if trying to get himself used to the idea.

Gabrielle gave the prince a half-curtsey-half-bow and hurried off to the Green Ivy Inn. “You couldn’t have found me sooner to inform me that the man I was having a shouting match with will one day be my
king
?” she hissed to her cat.

“You let those girls dress me up, Gabrielle. I wore
boots
for the better part of an hour.”

“Serves you right.”

“Aren’t you hateful? Anyway, you may forget about Steffen. His father is the one with whom we must concern ourselves. If we can worm into his good graces, the crown prince will not matter at all,” Puss said.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m just handling your public image. Anyway, keeping your…interactions with Prince Steffen in mind, perhaps we should leave early tomorrow morning before the royal party rises.”

“You
think
?” Gabrielle snarled.

“Temper, temper, Mistress. Lest no one will believe you to be a lady of good breeding,” Puss said. “Also, I think it will be necessary to train you to speak with charisma and charm. You cannot treat King Henrik as you have his son.”

“An hour wasn’t enough. The next time we stay at a village, I’m going to let little girls play with you for an entire afternoon,” Gabrielle vowed as they stopped outside the door of the Green Ivy Inn.

“Empty threats,” Puss sniffed.

“Don’t tempt me,” Gabrielle growled as she pushed her way inside. “Good evening.”

“Good evening, Lady Gabrielle,” Jakob, enfolded in a wool blanket, called from a bench. “It is good to see you again after such a messy episode!” He had been one of the villagers to take on the bandits, wielding a sturdy shovel—which was now a little dented.

“Jakob claims the fight went well. Thank you for facing those bandits, Lady Gabrielle. Please, help yourself to a blanket.” Lena smeared a paste over her husband’s puffy eye. It would be a shiner in the morning.

“Oh, it wasn’t just me. Everyone helped,” Gabrielle said, eyeing the proprietress. (There was no telling what she would do if she felt Wied owed Gabrielle even further.) She gratefully took a wool blanket and wrapped it around herself.

“You and Kronprinz Steffen seemed to get along quite well,” Jakob said.

Gabrielle muttered, “How is it that everyone recognized him for what he is, except me?”

“You missed his arrival,” Puss said before raising his voice to speak to the couple. “We must thank you again for your hospitality tonight.”

“It is our pleasure—ouch,” Jakob said, wincing when Lena smeared balm on a cut on his arm.

“Indeed, especially given the evening’s activities and your afternoon of work,” Lena said, sparing her husband for a moment to fix her thoughtful gaze on Gabrielle.

“Sadly, we must depart
early
tomorrow morning,” Gabrielle said.

“Yes,” Puss agreed.

“Stay with us for a few days,” Lena ordered.

“It don’t feel right to have you save our village twice and not spend even a full day with us,” Jakob added.

“Prince Steffen and his guards were tonight’s saviors. I am certain they will stay through tomorrow,” Gabrielle said, squeezing water from her hair.

Lena pursed her lips.

“Alas, we have other commitments,” Puss said, cutting the proprietress off before she could strong arm them into staying.

“We do?” Gabrielle whispered.

“We do. I came up with them just now,” Puss admitted in a lowered voice.

“Where are you traveling next?” Jakob asked.

“Muarg,” Gabrielle said when Puss glanced up at her. “And beyond.”

“Muarg is the next village over—although there are a few farmers in between,” Jakob said, running a hand through his damp beard. “It will take you half a day to get there—a little longer if you walk.”

“If you’re visiting Muarg, you must stay at the Egret and Eagle,” Lena said. “It is run by friends of ours—Dieter and Herta—and it is the only respectable inn in Muarg.”

“Perhaps,” Gabrielle said, unwilling to commit given that she had almost no money to her name.

Lena swiveled her sharp eyes to Jakob.

“Dieter has a fine brew from a local farmer,” Jakob said.

Lena looked upwards and shook her head. A pleased smile spread across her lips, and she looked back at Gabrielle and Puss. “I have a letter for Herta. I hate to ask for another favor, but could you deliver the letter for me? With the uproar from the bandits, it is unlikely anyone will think of traveling to Muarg soon.”

Suspicion nipped at Gabrielle, but she couldn’t easily refuse.

Puss flicked his tail.

“I suppose so,” she reluctantly agreed.

“Wonderful,” Lena smiled. “I will give you the letter in the morning.”

“Oh, but we are leaving very early,” Gabrielle said.

“And you will need breakfast before you go,” Lena firmly said. “Now, go up to your room, and I’ll see about drawing more water for you for another bath.”

“But you already—”

“If you don’t warm up soon, you’ll catch a chill. And you, Puss in Boots—”

“Don’t call me that!”

“I have your dinner set aside.”

“Thank you, madam.”

“You’re very welcome. Now go.”

Gabrielle bobbed a curtsey, muttered her thanks, and carried herself and Puss up the stairs. The cat was heavy in her arms now that her joy and energy had abandoned her. She would be glad for the warm bath. And with some luck, she would fall into bed without ever catching sight of Prince Steffen.

“If all innkeepers are as cunning as Mistress Lena, our travels will be very comfortable indeed,” Puss said, purring deep in his throat when Gabrielle cleared the last step.

“No,” Gabrielle said, sloshing down the hallway. “We cannot take advantage of innkeepers as we have taken advantage of Jakob and Lena.”

“As you wish,” Puss said when Gabrielle set him down outside the door of their room. “But if they are all as bossy as Lena, what you decide will not make one whit of a difference.”

“I know. We’ll just have to be discreet—and quick,” Gabrielle said. “Was it alright to say we were going to go to Muarg?”

“It is east of here, is it not?”

“Yes.”

“Then it is acceptable. We shall have to obtain a map of Arcainia so we might better plan our travels.”

“Good luck. Maps are expensive. They cost as much—if not more—than your boots,” Gabrielle said, giving her burlap sack a meaningful look.

“Don’t worry your pretty head. I’ll make all the arrangements. And Gabrielle.”

“Hmm?”

“Try not to consort with princes too often. I have a long-term plan I’m seeking to achieve. If you head-butt or slug one of the Arcainian princes the way you commonly abused the boys of Ilz, my plans will never come to fruition.”

“If you
tell
me the next time we’re around a prince, I will do my best,” Gabrielle said, twisting water from her skirts.

“I see.”

“You sound unconvinced.”

“That’s because I am. I’m not certain you can ever act with any sort of decorum.”

“Of course I can, Puss in Boots. I’m supposedly a lady or a duchess or whatever, aren’t I?”

“A marquise,” Puss corrected. “And right now you more closely resemble a drowned rat.”

“You should see the bandits.”

Chapter 6

The Second Meeting

“I plan to never eat another springerle cookie again,” Gabrielle announced as she slipped her boots off her feet and turned them upside down, making crumbs fall like snow. Over a month had passed since she first set out on her adventure with Puss. The jaunty life of a wandering adventurer suited her.

“What, catching the gingerbread man did not make you crave sweets?” Puss arched his back as he stretched his paws in front of him.

“It made me want to wretch.” Gabrielle shivered. She unlaced her leather jerkin—custom-made, with two side pockets and front laces. The tanner who made the jerkin for her had also made it longer so it stopped two hand-lengths beneath her hip. When Gabrielle first received it in exchange for outsmarting a troll, she had been somewhat reluctant to don male clothes—even if the tanner had fashioned it to look as feminine as possible. But now, after her countless adventures in her jerkin, she would be hard-pressed to return to dresses and skirts. It was so much easier to run, jump, and kick a man in the chest when she was wearing pants.

She crouched next to the pond and started scrubbing at the smear of green frosting that colored her tan, cotton breeches. “Out of all the tasks we have completed on behalf of Arcainian citizens, this one made me the most nauseated. What kind of fiend would magic a gingerbread man to make him a deviant that can only be destroyed by consuming
all
of him?” she asked, holding her stomach.

“The witch in the candy cottage,” Puss said, sharpening his claws on a tree trunk.

“The one luring children away from Kinzig?” Gabrielle asked, dislodging a red candy chip from her thick, heavy braid.

“Indeed,” Puss said. “And now that we’ve taken care of the gingerbread man—”

“He was a springerle cookie.”

“—and his rampage across the countryside, we are free to attack his creator.”

“So soon?” Gabrielle asked,

“What do you mean, so soon?” Puss asked. “Were you hoping to wait long enough for King Henrik to get wind of your actions?”

“No,” Gabrielle said with great force. She hadn’t seen anymore of Prince Steffen, to her relief. Hopefully by now, the crown prince had forgotten her rude words and their encounter at Wied.
After all, Prince Steffen must meet hundreds of people every year. Why would he remember me?

She shook out her jerkin, snapping it with feeling. “I was thinking of the homes and shops the springerle cookie man ruined. I thought you might want to postpone the fight and aid with the rebuilding.”

“No. If we wait too long, I fear the witch will bake another gingerbread man. Would you care to repeat today’s task and consume another child-sized cookie-man?”

“No,” Gabrielle said, putting a hand to her mouth and turning green at the thought. “I will be glad to face the witch. I owe her for today.” She checked her sword—a gift from the village of Lech for battling a band of river pirates with Puss. Driven by self-preservation, she practiced with it often and learned pieces and bits of swordsmanship from the soldiers, guards, and fellow adventurers she ran into, so she was becoming at least a passable swordsman. “Also, I’m anxious to reclaim those children. I don’t know what she’s doing with them, but it can’t be good.”

“Fancy that. You’re happy to involve yourself in an adventure that doesn’t include pirates,” Puss said, his voice lofty and smug.

“Would you stop with the pirate jokes? I said way back in Lech that I didn’t want to hear another song or story involving highwaymen or pirates,” Gabrielle said, removing the string of leather with which she had tied her braid.

“I know, but now you understand how foolish you sounded when we first started adventuring. My only choice is, of course, to remind you of this,” Puss said, a purr vibrating his voice.

Gabrielle started unbraiding her hair. “You are insufferable. Since you have so much free time, tell me this: how has this witch in her candy cottage been around for months without the Veneno Conclave, the Arcainian army, or Prince Rune taking her out?”

“The witch’s cottage lies inside lands that belong to the ogre of Carabas. She isn’t on Arcainian soil. As Carabas doesn’t quite belong to Arcainia anymore, the king cannot request help from the conclave. And as Prince Rune hasn’t been in the business of hero-work for very long, I imagine King Henrik is being selective with his missions,” Puss said, rubbing up against the tree he had clawed.

“It’s odd; I don’t recall the country having so many magical problems when I was little,” Gabrielle said, shaking her blonde hair out.

“That is because there weren’t as many problems. With Queen Ingrid living in these lands, even the ogre kept to his borders. Since she has died, evil and deviant magic have spilled in from Carabas,” Puss said.

“How do you know?”

Puss twitched his tail back and forth. “My previous mistress was an enchantress-in-training, and Arcainia was always fodder for gossip, with its ban on magic and the Lady Enchantress Ingrid serving as its queen,” he said, his voice guarded and slow.

Gabrielle held her breath. The most she had ever gotten out of the cat about his life before their travels was that he was given, as a kitten, to a lovely girl by her master. She had assumed the girl must have been a mage of some capacity, but Puss had never confirmed it. But to think that his previous owner was an
enchantress
? No wonder Puss was so powerful and smart!

She hoped Puss would continue, but instead he changed the topic. “I don’t think we’ve reached the darkest magic yet, either,” he said. “Mark my words. Soon there will be dragons, sea serpents, packs of trolls, and worse.”

“Because of the ogre?” Gabrielle asked.

“Perhaps,” Puss said, narrowing his eyes.

“You aren’t fooling me, by the way,” Gabrielle said as she folded her jerkin and placed it next to her boots and sword.

“Hmm?”

“For the past month, we’ve been inching closer and closer to Carabas. I’m not going to take on that ogre. You are a wonderfully talented, magical cat, but even you can’t hope to take the ogre on, Puss.”

“I know; you’ve told me before,” Puss said, his voice light and airy. “We will avoid Carabas itself as long as you wish. Does that mean we should leave the witch in her candy cottage to plague Kinzig and its inhabitants?”

“I didn’t say that,” Gabrielle sighed. “We’re still attacking the witch—but not the ogre!”

“As you wish. If I might enquire, why are you disrobing?” Puss asked, watching Gabrielle bend forward to scrub yellow frosting off the sleeve of her white, cotton undershirt with pond water.

“Because I’m going to bathe.”

“What, here? Whatever for?” Puss sniffed.

“Because I have frosting and springerle crumbs rubbing my skin raw, that’s why.”

“Ask Anja to draw a bath for you at the Galloping Gelding,” Puss said.

“No. Anja and Okan are already letting us stay at their inn for free. I won’t further inconvenience them with a bath. It’s summer; I can bathe here,” Gabrielle said, gesturing at the clear pond. “I swear, all innkeepers are in league with one another.”

“They do all seem well informed of your exploits. I no longer even have to trumpet your arrival when we enter a new village,” Puss acknowledged.

Gabrielle pursed her lips. “And none of them will let us pay for our room and food. Anyway, I want to shed these crumbs. You’ll serve as my lookout?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“No.”

Puss laboriously blinked. “I fail to understand why you gave me the option, then.”

“Because it makes me sound generous. Now shoo. Go watch for Peeping Toms and the like.”

“I hardly think there will be any Peeping Toms in the middle of the woods,” Puss said.

“Hardly think does not mean you absolutely know. Go watch,” Gabrielle ordered.

“As you wish.” He pushed through undergrowth, making his way out of the small copse of trees that surrounded the pond. “I hope a snapping turtle bites you,” he added.

Gabrielle ignored his caustic wish, shimmied out of her clothes, and hopped into the pond. “Clean at last,” she sighed in delight, even though the pond water was chilly and mud from the bottom of the pond squelched between her toes. “What a fantastic day.”

Steffen stared across the carriage at his father. King Henrik looked better. The first leg of their inspection—particularly after their encounter with the Lady Gabrielle, her odd cat, and the bandits at Wied—seemed to rouse him from his apathy, and their brief visit home to Castle Brandis had restored some of his good humor. Steffen and King Henrik were only able to stay for three weeks to catch up on their work before they began the inspection of the northeast villages, towns, and settlements of Arcainia, but it seemed that seeing the rest of his children had done King Henrik a great service. Though Steffen had not witnessed a smile or laugh, some of the color had returned to his skin, and he more readily interacted with Steffen and the soldiers in their retinue.

King Henrik shifted and met Steffen’s gaze. He didn’t offer him a smile, but his eyes softened before he returned his attention to the countryside that rolled past. “Oh,” he said, blinking at something out of his window. To Steffen’s surprise, his father reached up and thumped the roof. “Stop the coach,” he ordered.

The carriage rolled to a stop, and King Henrik opened the door and flipped the stairs down. “Roland Archibald Whisperpaws, is that you?”

“It is indeed, Your Majesty,” said a cultivated, intelligent voice.

Steffen grimaced when a black and white cat—not just any cat, but Lady Gabrielle’s cat—strolled up to the carriage.

“It is good to see you. I greet you on behalf of my mistress, the Marquise of Carabas,” the cat said, bending his head in a bow.

“So she is no longer the heir, but the marquise?” King Henrik asked.

The cat twitched its whiskers, making its black, half-mustache quiver. “Indeed. Her people live in these parts, and they recognize her for who she is.”

“Is Lady Gabrielle here, then?” Steffen asked.

“Yes. She is back at a pond, refreshing herself,” the cat said, looking back over his shoulders at a spread of trees.

“I believe I will speak to her while you two…catch up,” Steffen said, climbing from the carriage.

“That’s a reasonable proposal. Join me in my carriage, Roland.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Steffen waved off Moritz who moved to follow him and pushed his way through the trees alone. Although this was the second time he was meeting the talking cat, it still seemed…
odd
. “Mother might have been an enchantress, but I didn’t inherit her love of magic,” Steffen muttered as he ducked under a tree branch. For a moment, his heart ached as he remembered his beautiful, smiling mother. He sighed and tucked the memory to the back of his mind as he slid between a row of trees and popped out near the pond the cat had described.

Gabrielle was there, but she hadn’t heard his approach. She sat on a rock, braiding her damp hair with a look of fierce concentration, clothed in a cotton shirt that fell to her thighs.

Her appearance hit Steffen like a staff to the gut.

When Steffen first met Gabrielle, he noted with a clinical disinterest that she was pretty; but here, in the middle of nowhere, Steffen was forced to admit that Gabrielle was the single most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

The afternoon light that sifted through the trees highlighted her high, pronounced cheekbones, her arched eyebrows, her thick eyelashes, and her perfect chin. Her honey-crème-colored hair was so glossy it shimmered, and her brown eyes were a beautiful shade of amber in the bright light.

She MUST have been blessed with beauty by an enchantress or fairy godmother as a child
, Steffen thought as he stared at her.

As if she could feel his eyes on her, Gabrielle tied off her braid and looked up. And screamed. “GAH!” she yelped, tugging the fabric of her shirt farther down her legs. “Pervert! Creeper! Peeping Tom!”

“What? No, I—”

Gabrielle kicked, sloshing a wave of water over Steffen’s pants and boots. “Go away!” she shouted.

“You’re misunderstanding again,” Steffen argued.