“And I’m bound to her,” I said.
He paused, considering the implications.
“I know it’s a stretch, but with you being bound to me and me being bound to her, that has to amount to something where magic is concerned. We tried a blood oath, and it didn’t work. Now that I know we’re mates, it makes sense. Only one bond can exist between beings. The stronger one supersedes everything else.”
Corvo cocked his head. “Maybe ...”
He didn’t sound convinced. His golden eyes squinted in thought, then blinked slowly as if his brain had just buffered through a realization.
“Whatever was blocking us from recognizing each other before, it’s gone,” I said again, more firmly this time. “The bond snapped into place, whether Meera’s ready to accept it or not.”
Corvo sat upright, tail flicking. “You’re thinking if I’m tethered to you and you’re tethered to her, then by the transitive property of magical bullshit, I might be able to find her?”
“It’s worth a try.”
Sadie scoffed. “Yeah, or he ends up sniffing his own tail in circles.”
“I’m not a dog,” Corvo scoffed. “And as magnificent as I am, this bond isn’t a trail of enchanted perfume. If you're expecting me to sniff my way across realms, lower your expectations.”
I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, fingers steepled. “Can you at least try?”
Corvo groaned, his tail flicking with indignation. “Try? Sure. But if my spirit unravels like a badly knit sweater, that’s on you. I wasn’t designed for directional magic.” He shot me a flat look. “I claw expensive things for entertainment and judge people—that’s my lane. I’m a cat, not a compass.”
“I thought you were a god,” I countered.
“Then the judgment remains, but the form of entertainment changes.”
“You’re my familiar,” I reminded him.
“Still doesn’t mean I signed up for trauma.”
“Corvo,” I warned.
“Fine, fine.” He stood up slowly, stretching with an exaggerated groan like he’d just risen from the longest nap in history. “Let’s see what we’re working with.”
His form stilled. The fur along his back lifted slightly, and the air around him grew thick with static. His body vibrated with restrained magic. The gold of his eyes shifted to molten amber, glowing as they unfocused on the material world.
“I might be picking up something,” he said in a voice that was no longer casual. “It’s faint. Like a frayed wire.”
Sadie leaned in. “You mean like magical residue?”
Corvo didn’t answer. His entire body had gone eerily still.
I stood, my knees groaning from the movement. “Corvo?”
“Shhh.” He lifted one paw as if listening to a distant frequency. “Be right back.”
Then, without another word, his body vanished in a shimmer of displaced air.
Sadie blinked, startled. “Did he just?—”
“Yeah,” I said, my voice low. “I think he found something.”
We stood there, the air thick with dust and silence, both of us staring at the spot where Corvo had vanished.
“Should have asked him to bring us food and water first. And maybe an umbrella,” she said lightly, but it didn’t mask the concern in her voice. “Do you think he’ll be okay?”
I shrugged, though the weight in my chest said I wasn’t sure. “He’s a cat. He always lands on his feet.”
