“I wasn’t following him, if that’s what you mean,” Oleander said. “It’s not important. This man says you know cats. Is he—is he going to die, or…”
Yves struggled not to smile. Underneath their haughty airs, Oleander really was a scrap of a thing. “We’ll help, Olly. Don’t panic.”
“Do I look like an Olly?” Oleander said, peevishness winning out once again.
“Right now?” Nanette looked them over. “You’re kind of an Olly.”
“I can’t believe I’m asking you all for help.” Oleander muttered, and readjusted the cat in their arms.
Yves, Raul, Nanette, and Oleander shuffled into the House of Onyx through the garden door, keeping the big cat hidden between them. They’d almost made it to Yves’ room when Charon came up the stairs the other way, looking like a storm cloud. He stopped, stared at the motley group frozen in the hallway, and raised his brows when he spotted the cat.
“Olly found him,” Nanette said. Charon’s brows rose higher. “He’s sick.”
“I still have the box from when Rose found the orange kittens,” Charon said. “We can keep him in the spare room upstairs.”
“You’ve done this before?” Oleander clutched the cat. The cat clutched them back.
“More times than you’d expect,” Yves said. “Charon, I’ll get another box and some sand. And chicken, do you think?”
“Make sure it’s soft,” Charon said. Yves nodded and peeled off to find the box, and Raul pattered down the steps after him.
“You really do like cats, then,” Raul said. He kept his gaze on his feet. “Some people are wary of them.”
“They only claw you when they’re scared.” Yves grabbed a box full of apples, tipped the apples onto the kitchen counter, and went out to get the sand they used to clean Nanette and Simone’s chainmail. “Help me fill this?”
Raul obeyed quickly. “Olly kept asking me questions about you. They might be a little insecure. I’ve seen it before.”
“Really?” Yves sifted the sand in the box. “Where?”
“The…” Raul cleared his throat. “The House?—”
Oleander slammed open the door. The cat was still clinging to their neck. “He won’t let go! He cries every time we try. Is he hurt? What if he can’t move his paws?”
Yves got up and carried the box to Oleander. “Have you ever had a cat before?”
Oleander shook their head. “Mother said they carried disease.”
Yves held his hand up for the cat to sniff. He looked a little wet and wheezy, but it probably wasn’t fatal. He was also purring erratically with every breath, and he squinted his crossed eyes up at Oleander, drooling lovingly.
“He likes you,” Yves said. “Congratulations, Olly. You made a friend.”
Yves met Charon in the hallway again. For now, Yves was too distracted by Oleander to remember the mess of emotions he’d felt in Charon’s room the other night, and he slipped all too easily into their old rhythm.
They set up the room while Oleander and Raul looked on, barely needing to speak. Charon guessed what Yves needed before he could say it, and Yves was already there when Charon needed his help moving the bed and stripping the bedding. They arranged a spot for the cat to sleep, and when the cat growled as Charon tried to take him from Oleander, Yves cut up chicken on a plate to tempt him out.
“I can try,” Raul said, and reached out for the cat. He looked like he’d never even touched a cat before, but the cat looked at him, closed his eyes in a slow blink, and let Raul ease him out of Oleander’s arms. Raul’s hands brushed Oleander’s when he set the cat down, but he seemed too concerned with the animal to notice.
“They’re a little hapless, aren’t they?” Yves said, watching Oleander and Raul lean over the cat. He was blessed with a small, private smile from Charon.“Olly,huh? What do you bet they’ll stop thinking I’m their rival after this?”
Charon rubbed his chin. There was a bit of stubble growing in, and Yves had the sudden urge to run his hand up his jaw to feel it. He shoved his hands in his pockets instead. “You might need another cat.”
“Or three. Do you think Lord Laurent knows?” Yves backed out of the room, and Charon walked at his side, a warm presence filling the hallway.
“He might be convinced that it’ll rehabilitate our resident ambassador from Katoikos,” Charon said.
“Except Olly thinks you’re from there, too.” Charon made a face at that. “What does Arktos really think of Katoikos?” When Charon shot him a sharp look, Yves put on his most appeasing, please-don’t-spank-me-daddy expression. “Let’s pretend I’ve been in and out of your room long enough to pick up an open secret or two.”
For a second, he thought he might have crossed a line, but then Charon spoke. “I don’t know what they think of Katoikos. I was young when I left.”
