Page 77 of Lady Knight and the Thief

The cat shook its head.

Havanj said, “The trees of Eobbaara will likely have heard of your return, Lass. I wouldn’t stay away from them for too long.”

“I’m returning to the Keep,” Cypress started, guilt unfurling in her gut.

Even if she was supposedly a Duchess… Cypress wasn’t sure if she would return. Her entire life was at the Keep. She had responsibilities. And, she had to help Torren get the scepter to keep the Old Ones sleeping.

“I know. The Trees are patient, but if I were you, I would make visiting Eobbaara a priority,” Havanj said with a kind smile.

Cypress gave her a stiff nod in return. She still wasn’t sure if that would ever actually happen.

“And heed the cards, warnings as clear as yours are not something to be trifled with.”

“Thank you for seeing us, Havanj,” Torren said and rose from his seat.

“It was good to see you, boy. Stay out of trouble?”

Cypress didn’t hear Torren’s response. Her feet moved quicker and quicker out of the house, through the winding corridors and rooms filled with unbelievable objects.

Finally, though, when she breathed in the cool night air, the tightness in her chest loosened.

Moments later, Torren emerged from the house and drawled, “Well, wasn’t that fun?”

“Why didn’t you warn me the cat could talk?”

“It would have been worse to know she speaks and have her ignore you, wouldn’t it?” Torren asked, sly smile once more in place.

Cypress huffed a laugh. “Yeah. I suppose.”

Torren hooked his arm over her shoulder and said, “Come on, Lass. Let's get moving.”

“Are you in need of a crutch?” Cypress asked, while she peered down at the arm draped across her shoulder.

Torren chuckled. “And if I did, would you carry me?”

Cypress had a hard time keeping a straight face when she said, “Nah. I’d let you fall and keep walking.”

“Oh, you are a cruel, cruel thing, aren’t you?” Torren said, and clutched his hand to his chest.

“Don’t be a baby,” Cypress laughed and walked into the Inn’s Tavern behind Torren.

Torren just laughed, then greeted the Inn’s owner as if they were the best of friends and ordered food for them both.

When it arrived, Cypress ate her meal in relative silence, while she pondered the knowledge she’d just gained. Mainly, if she was going to believe everything that was said to be the unvarnished truth.

Torren, on the other hand, ate his food between laughs and greetings passed between him and the people of the village. He seemed to know practically everyone by name and never hesitated to shake hands with someone who said they missed his mother and were sorry for his loss.

She had a hard time fathoming such devotion to a ruler. For a citizen of Faerie to mourn the loss of their Princess—Queen—even decades later was no small feat.

By the time Cypress and Torren were finished with their meals, and he had spoken to—it seemed– every person in this village, she had come to the conclusion that it did not matter that they thought her to be one of the noble houses.

She didn’t care about nobility. Never had.

But, somehow knowing that her heritage ran through her mother’s line made her feel some sort of sense of… honor.

Or perhaps it was because the knowledge also came with knowing she hadn’t killed her mother.

That was a long-time fear of hers. A dream that often came back on the worst of days–even before learning of the hardships of human women who bore the children of Fair Folk.