Two Cats

Chapter 19

It was one of those times when 'off-balanced' wasn't nearly a strong enough description.

Murdered.

That's what the Prince had just told me, wasn’t it? He was insightful as hell, and would have known exactly how his words would be interpreted. Tenarreau knew something, hinted that he had information about the seemingly chance appearance of Rose Blight, the disease that had stripped my family tree bare. He knew...

Either that or he was simply yanking my chain, and was long overdue for a much deserved punch to the middle of his face.

I highly doubted the second. He was perhaps the most talented politician in all of Harael, and you don't get to a position like his by speaking carelessly, or dropping something by accident.

Murdered.

The whole carriage ride back to Tucat keep went by in an instant, so wrapped up was I in my thoughts. Everything had changed. The world tasted differently. My fatigue had burned away and evaporated in the face of this revelation, leaving me feeling as though I were on the verge of tears, but also brimming with a unending supply of raw, angry energy. If I were to hop out of the carriage and run alongside of it for an hour, it felt as though I'd scarcely make a dent in the reservoir that burned within me, like my very soul was trapped in an unending primal scream that could never run out of breath to power it.

I could picture my family clearly in my head, much more clearly than I'd ever been capable of before. Often in the past I would imagine them as they had been, smiling and laughing, small hazy flashes of remembered conversations or other moments that indelibly burned themselves into my memory.

Now I could see every single detail of their faces in my mind's eye, like they were right there with me. Jillian, my mother, my father ... all three of them were looking at me, the laughing and joyous faces from my memories replaced by somber, serious expressions, the warm vibrant colors of my recollections replaced with a cold grey. I could see them, standing there, waiting expectantly.

My family. Murdered.

Who, though? Had it been Redforne? While I found myself desperately wanting to believe it was so, the notion didn't make sense. He'd been all but a babe back then, quite younger than I'd been at the time. I also found it highly unlikely that Tenarreau would hint at something like this if Redforne was the one responsible ... not while simultaneously attempting to solicit my agreement to keep from moving against the young Lord.

Who then?

Was there perhaps some sort of clue in the last of my father's books?

“Milord?” a deep, familiar voice said tentatively.

“Hmmm?” I managed to croak, looking up from the floor of the carriage that I'd been staring through with my unfocused gaze.

“Lord Tucat, we have arrived,” said my coachman, eying me with a wary concern.

“I ... Tarryl, thank you. Sorry, distracted there. Say,” I said, getting up from my seat and stepping lightly out of the door he'd been holding open for me, “do you know where Cyrus is?”

“Brought him back here as instructed, Milord, before returning to the palace to wait for you,” Tarryl said, shrugging. “Best guess would put him in bed, judging from his eyes. Did you need me to summon him for you?”

“No, no ... not at all, Tarryl,” I said, waving dismissively. “He's probably extremely tired and deserves a long, uninterrupted sleep. I suspect I'll be rather envious of him in a few hours...”