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With a belly full of stew and a heart heavy with good feelings, Abby thought she could find sleep. That swaddled in her bedsheets while moonlight streamed through her window, she'd be able to drift off to her dreamworld. Where she'd meet Sebbi, as she always had on the shores of her memory and ask him why he hadn't shown.

But her mind wouldn't calm. Like her traitorous heart after Crum had grabbed her hand, her thoughts thumped against the inside of her skull.

Why had Sebbi not shown up? What could have been more important than the Memorial? Sure, ruling a kingdom meant putting a whole slew of peoples' needs before your own, but could he not have carved out a moment for those he left behind? For those he chose Aelurus over?

Lying on her back, she peered up at the ceiling, the dingy, cracked plaster nothing like the vibrant frescoes of her old room. She grabbed a handful of blanket and rolled onto her side, watching as the moonlight crept along her floor. She was being selfish again, wasn't she?

She'd wanted Sebbi there. She'd forced him into a promise he couldn't possibly uphold alongside his royal duties. She was always thrusting her will onto others and then getting hurt when they couldn't be what she wished them to be.

But, she couldn't be what Sebbi needed her to be either. She couldn't be understanding despite knowing his circumstance. She couldn't pretend she wasn't hurt by his absence and that she could forgive him when the very act had never come easy to her. King or not, Abby still expected Sebbi to be by her side, as selfish as that was.

Though maybe Sebbi felt differently. Maybe he had understood his role and had been determined to be the king his people needed. Maybe in order to do that, he had to sever ties with his past, had to distance himself to better focus on the present, and on Aelurus' future. Maybe, he just didn't need Abby as much as she needed him.

Abby's cheeks grew hot, her tears threatening to fall. Not wanting to cry again, she threw her arms up, flung her blankets aside and marched to her window, determined not to think of Sebbi anymore.

Settling herself onto the sill, she placed her head in her hand and listened to the city's slumber, the dull whizz of passing cord cars, the heavy, pulsing thuds of factory machines. Enhanced lightposts spilled bluish glow onto the barren side streets and main roads.

In the distance, smoke stacks huffed steam clouds into the air, each one faintly outlined by blue. A few stragglers, patrons of a nearby pub, hobbled their ways home, faces flush and haggard, the overhead light reflected in weary gazes.

Tomorrow when the dawn bells rang throughout the city, those men and women would rise from their beds, gather on the curb in huddled clusters or at cord car ports, and dutifully head to work, exhaust and all. That's how it worked in Ean. Everyone adhered to a routine, everyone stayed grounded.

No one wished for the world beyond Ean's gates. No one wanted to traverse the lush flatlands of the Royal Back or bathe in the hot springs of the north. No one even bothered to think of the fabled glass beaches of the south because they were just that - fables.

No one hungered for the truth and they'd certainly never believe in a world of giant, walking, talking cat people. Or that other realms existed. But Abby knew the truth. Her cats had been rightful heirs to another realm's throne. She'd seen Sebbi reclaim his birthright and...and here she was thinking about him again.

"Argh!" She reached up and dug her nails into her scalp. "Stop thinking about him." She shook her head, hard, hoping to dislodge any remaining thoughts of he-who-shall-not-be-named and that they'd fall out her ears. She turned over, thrust her eyes closed and tried to force herself to sleep.

Go to sleep. Just, go to sleep. Berate him in your dreams. Just like you usually do. Just go to sle--

Her eyes snapped open at the sound of creaking floorboards in the hallway. Soft, steady footfalls grew closer, louder, though still muffled. Intentionally quieted. A shadow spilled under her door, falling across her floor for a second before vanishing. The sound of the footsteps grew fainter, more distant as whoever passed without delay.

Lucy. It had to be him, slipping out in the dead of night to wander around Ean again. Abby never knew where he went, but wherever it was, he'd done so taking every precaution, meaning he wanted to keep it private. She never asked for details. No matter how curious she got, the next morning when they sat around the breakfast table, she acted like nothing happened.

It was a courtesy he extended to her as well. Sometimes, when the memories of her birthday overwhelmed her, when on those nights the scent of smoke burned her lungs and made her eyes water, when she could recall her father's face so vividly, she saw every wrinkle, every tear that quivered in his gaze, she sobbed and screamed into her pillow.

But come morning, she and Lucy only shared breakfast and smiles and laughter, keeping the things that happened throughout the night, chained to the dark where they belonged.

And Abby couldn't have been more thankful to have Lucy in her life. Or to have Crum, the Mayweathers, Alfren and...

She swallowed as her gaze drifted to her ribbon box. Next to it, on one of her only stain-free cloths, laid Sebbi's gift to her, a black ribbon with two crescent moons shining brightly.

She reached up and touched her hair, wound a strand of it around her finger. "Sebbi." At the mention of his name, her heart thudded, and she frowned. She didn't need her body to react to know Sebbi was at the root of her problem.

He always was. She could never get back to living her life without knowing he was safe.

And Aelurus was not safe. Not everyone had wanted him to be king. Though he'd never said as much himself, she'd overheard servants during her stint at Darkmoore Castle. 

An Aelurian raised in Exul? An Aelurian with hemma-leanings? He'll never understand Aelurus, never understand us. Might as well return to the world where he came from.

She never revealed what she'd heard because Sebbi would rebuke the truth. He'd claim it was false and tell her not to worry. Lie to her and pretend it was for her own sake. But lies were still lies.

What if the dissatisfaction with his reign had grown? What if the opposition had acted against him? Staged a coup? Done what Nocturnis had done to his mother? Usurped the throne?

She gulped though her mouth had gone bone dry. Abby's vision grew blurry as a tear fell down her cheek. "Why do you keep me away? Why didn't you show up today?" She was crying now, tears wetting the front of nightgown and catching in the folds of her pillow. "I know it's selfish, but I wish I could see you right now," her voice broke, "just to make sure you're alright."

Meow.

Abby whipped her head around, blotting her cheeks with her hands. What was that?

Meow?

A cat? Abby scrunched her face. Was she pining for Sebbi's company so much she'd conjured cat noises just to remind herself of him? "You can't miss him that badly." She shook her head. "Stop this and get to sleep."

Meo-oh, nevermind. The unfamiliar voice sounded small, juvenile. A timid rap came from her window.

Abby leapt from bed.

Ahem, came the voice. Miss Tells? Miss Tells? Let me in. I bring urgent news from Aelurus.

Abby strode over to her window where there, perched on the roof, was a striped grey cat, staring at her with blue eyes. It took to sitting outside her window, tail wrapped around its front paws. With a nod, it motioned for her to come forward.

Without a second thought, she threw her window wide open. The cat bowed before dropping inside her room, deftly skirting her piles of books and clothes. It hopped onto her bed and took note of its surroundings just once before settling onto its haunches.

"You're from Aelurus?" she asked.

He bowed his head. "I am Kit, Miss Tells, His Highness's most trusted courier. His Royal Advisor Reven has sent me."

Abby tilted her head as she felt a smile rise to the surface. The cat's face wrinkled, his eyes obscured by his long fur. "Kit the cat?" Abby repeated. He nodded. "And you don't understand why that's funny?"

She snickered. Her guest frowned, his tail going limp. "Why would my name be funny, Miss Tells? Kit was my father's name, and his father's before him. It is very befitting a commoner like--"

Abby waved him silent. "Nevermind, it's a good name. I misspoke." She rubbed her hands together, her question thick on her tongue. Her smiled faded as quick as it had come. "So," she looked down, "why has Sebbi's advisor sent you?" And not Sebbi himself? Was it common in Aelurus for an advisor to send the king's couriers and not the king?

In Mirea, the Tridian royal family were known a great deal for their progressive take on ruling, on how they delegated the most pressing concerns of the people to their most trusted advisors. But such things were rare, most royals liked to rule autonomously. So why hadn't Sebbi sent Kit? And why were Kit's whiskers trembling?

Something akin to gruel congealed in Abby's stomach, leaving her feeling heavy. Her breathing quickened.

As Kit opened his mouth to speak, an avalanche of words tumbled from Abby's. She didn't want to know. Not really. As the feeling inside her worsened, she knew she didn't want to hear what Kit said next. Didn't want to feel heavier and have that heaviness drag her under. "If you're here because of him," she said, "I should get Lucy."

"Certainly," Kit shook his head, "that would be ideal, but my business here is grave, I'm afraid. It cannot wait."

It cannot wait. Reven sent me, not Sebbi. It's grave.

The words swirled inside Abby's brain until they blurred together, her head now equally as heavy as her stomach. It felt like all of her was turning to stone. A cold sweat dripped down her back.

"What is it?" she asked, timidly.

"His Highness has been poisoned."

And just like that, the heaviness exploded inside her and she felt her heart wither. Abby gasped and took a step back on legs she couldn't feel. Her hand clawed at the air as she reached for something, anything to stop her from falling. She found her bedpost and clutched desperately onto the wood. Suddenly, there wasn't one Kit in front of her but two.

Her head spun. Her vision grew blurry and that familiar wetness pressed against her eyelids. She blinked back the tears, hoping to hold herself together but it wasn't working. Her heart had broken, and the rest of her couldn't figure out how to function without it.

Kit darted forward and pressed his head into Abby's forearm. "I'm sorry to inform you of this, but," warmth radiated from his fur, his whiskers tickled her skin, yet Abby couldn't find any comfort in it, "rest assured our mages and healers are doing what they can to keep him alive."

Keep him alive. Not dead. In her mind, Abby envisioned the boy on the docks from last year, only now he was lying on his back, blood pouring from his mouth, his gold eyes not seeing. Not seeing her, not seeing anything.

Sebbi's not dead though. Not yet.

Kit licked on the back of her hand, but the feel of his tongue, wet and coarse, only made the tears fall harder. Abby thought she'd been empty of everything the night of the fire, but she'd been wrong; she still had so much to lose.

"Love!" Footsteps echoed down the hall.

Abby tore her hand away from her bed and sat down, hurrying to wipe her face. Kit tilted his head, his gaze split between her and the door. In seconds, Lucy stampeded into her room, opening her door with a loud thud.

The smile he wore of his face could have shamed the moon. He'd been running, his tunic plastered to his chest with sweat, his perfect complexion blotchy and red from the wind. Strange that he only seemed to rush when Abby's world had stopped.

"Love," he said, his grin widening. One arm remained outside her room, muscles strained. She recognized the look Lucy wore. It was one of triumph and she would be the one to take it away. "Look what I found wandering outside," he continued, yanking an irritated Crum forward. "He just kept mumbling to himself on our doorstep. Something about 'having courage'."

He placed an arm around Crum's shoulder which the other boy immediately shirked off. Lucy didn't mind and took the moment of freedom to bound over to Abby's side.

Leaning in close enough for his breath to tickle her neck, he added, "Thought I'd bring him in so we could have a good laugh at his expense."

Abby began to tremble. Lucy stepped back, finally noticing the cat curled up beside her. He cocked his head. "That's another thing we have in common," he quipped. Abby jerked her head up to find Lucy pointing at Kit. "We both take in strays."

She couldn't handle looking at his face. His eyes were so bright. His smile so mischievous. He had sought her out to share in a laugh. Not to be strangled by the dark stuff. They never confronted the dark stuff together.

She slumped forward, trembling, heart thudding as each new new sob escaped from her lips.

Sebbi was hurt. Your brother was poisoned. He's not dead, though. Not yet.

How could she possibly tell him?

"Love?" Lucy placed a hand on her shoulder. Abby only cried harder. "Love?" he asked again, settling himself beside her as he'd often done as a cat, him the sole provider of a warmth that always prevented Abby's heart from icing over. This time, it wasn't working. A resounding, throbbing emptiness echoed in her chest. "Tell me what's going--"

Achoo!

Abby dared to glance up. Crum stood in her doorway, curls in front of his eyes as he ran a sleeve under his nose. "Sorry," he said, pushing his hair away from his face. "Allergies."

Lucy got to his feet and scowled. "And why are you still here?" He spat venom, his voice low and cold. Forgotten was the jovial lightness from earlier.

Crum narrowed his eyes and shot him a glare. "I'm here because you dragged me up here." He matched Lucy's tone - frigid, indifferent. "So don't get mad at me for your-- Achoo!"

Lucy whirled around. "Leave now." He glanced at Abby, his gaze softening. "Abby and I need to talk."

"Hey," Crum growled. "Don't think you get to go yanking me around only to yell at me and then tell me to leave."

"Don't go loitering on our doorstep at night," Lucy snapped back.

Kit cocked his head. "Why does his highness fight with such a lowly creature?" the cat asked, taking a second to lick his paw. "Can he not simply command the hemma to leave instead of perpetuating this petty disagreement?"

Though the room was dark, Abby saw the second Crum's jaw dropped and for the first time in her life, she was left speechless. Lucy slapped his forehead.

Crum's arm speared the dark, an accusatory finger leveled at Kit. He took a hesitant step forward as though Abby's floor had teeth. "Did that cat just talk?" He wagged his finger. "Did it say real human words and call me a-a-" Abby could see him comb through his brain searching for the word he'd never heard before, "a-a-"

"Oh boy," Lucy whispered. "I think that broke him."

"a-a- ema?" Crum asked.

"Not ema," Kit corrected. "Hemma. As it is what the furless people are called in Exul, is that not so?" Kit shot a pleading glance to Lucy who responded with a shrug. Kit nodded knowingly. "I'm not surprised you misheard me though," he continued, "considering your ears are so small and ineffective. It's a wonder any conversation can be had with your kind what with your obvious," he gave Crum a once over before finishing, "disadvantages."

And then, before Abby could begin to explain Kit's existence and Sebbi's predicament, Crum lurched forward and fainted. He fell to the floor with a thud.

"Well," Lucy moved forward and gingerly poked Crum in the side, "he's out cold. Let's hope he hit his head hard enough to forget he heard a cat talk."

Kit lowered his head. "Forgive me, your highness, have I made a mistake?"

Lucy rubbed his chin. "Yes," Kit winced, "a grievous one at that, but honestly, it was entertaining enough so I'll forgive you."

The cat blew out his cheeks.

Abby couldn't believe it. Crum knew. He knew! He'd overheard Kit and had fainted. When he came to, he'd want answers and she'd be obligated to tell him about Aelurus, about Lucy and Sebbi. About the real cause of the fire.

Sebbi.

Her mind circled back to Sebbi's fate, the one unknown to Lucy, who had every right to know. She had to tell him.

Finally meeting his gaze head-on, she reached for his hand, interlocking her fingers with his.

He started. "Love?"

"Lucy," she said, each syllable strained and agonizingly raw, "Sebbi's been poisoned."