I’m not imagining it.
The bastard’s staring at me with beady little eyes as it slowly licks its paw.
“What is the answer going to cost me?”
I swear it laughs. “You’re learning, little fae queen.” And then it blinks at me. “The time is not yet right for you to know. Ask me again when the moon is full, your heart is torn in two, and you have no more hope remaining.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s not as though we have anything else to do to pass the time. Unless the Mother of Night instructed you to keep such secrets?”
“You think the Mother of Night sent me to you?”
I still. “You were sitting on my chest when I woke, and she’d promised to protect me.”
“Yes. You were warm. My feet were cold.”
A strange thought occurs. “What brought you to these woods?”
“I was waiting for you to arrive.”
My hand curls around my dagger. “How did you know I was coming here?”
The creature rolls its eyes. “I’m a grimalkin. I walk the shadows—the same way the Heartless do—but sometimes, in walking that world, I can catch a glimpse of a future unmapped. I needed help, and when I requested such from the world, your face kept appearing, as uninspiring as it is. And so I am here.”
My feet feel weighted to the ground.
“Put the knife away,” the grimalkin continues. “You’re only going to embarrass yourself.”
I glare at it, but suddenly it’s no longer there.
I spin around.
Nothing.
And then there’s a mocking purr in the tree above me, and something swipes at my hair.
Lambent yellow eyes appear, and then the fucking cat lolls on its back in the branches above me as a piece of my hair sifts to the ground.
“I could have gone for the tendon in your right heel,” it points out. “And you would never have seen me coming.”
Fuck.
I dwell on the creature. It could have killed me while I was unconscious near the Hallow. It wants something from me. I just need to work out what. “Do you have a name, o Lord of Shadows?”
It’s eyes thin, as if it’s not entirely certain whether I’m being sarcastic. “You may call me… Grimm.”
No fae creature gives out its real name. But…. “That’s terribly original.”
“It will suffice. And your own?”
“Vi.” I resheathe the dagger. “You said you needed my help.”
The grimalkin disappears, and I nearly fall over as it suddenly wends its way between my legs. “Excellent. You’re starting to listen. Yes, I need your help. I have lost my child.”
Oh. “I’m so sorry, I—”
“Not my kit,” it says with some dissatisfaction. “As if I would lose my kit. My fae child. I am its owner, and I have been charged with protecting it from the world. It is foolish—though allowances may be made for its age—and small, and it frequently smells because it has a tendency to fall into bogs and all manner of… messes. But it is mine, and no grimalkin loses its child.”
My mind’s trying to work out the logistics. “You’re a familiar.”
“I am not a familiar. It is my child. My fae is impossibly sweet. I keep telling her that she needs to grow thorns, but she’s nothing but a rose itself.” He sniffs to himself, as if it’s a despicable thing to be so gentle. “And now she’s in trouble, and I need to protect her.”
“Well, if she’s in trouble, then why are you here?” Grimalkin are curious creatures. They’re not pets—indeed, I’m rapidly learning they consider us to be their pets—but when they bond with a creature, it’s for life. “How can I help?”
The grimalkin stares into the flames for a long moment. “Because the future tells me I need to be at your side. You’re going to help me rescue my fae.”
“I would help you if I could, but I need to find a crown and slay an evil queen.” A rough laugh escapes me. “And that’s only if I can manage to return to my husband. You’re better off finding someone else to help you. The Heartless are trying to capture me.”
The shadow-cat’s head turns eerily toward me without any corresponding movement of its body. Its eyes remain unblinking. “No. No, I think I shall remain by your side.”
A little shiver tiptoes down my spine—almost like little pawprints. “What do you see?”
The grimalkin’s attention returns to the flames. “A child crying. A princess screaming. And a dark goddess laughing.” It licks its paw. “And don’t ask me to explain any of that, because the future is too broad and nebulous for your puny fae mind to grasp.”
Grimalkin.
“Well this puny fae mind is the—”
“More wood is required.”
I glare murder at it, and then dump another armful of branches on the fire. “I’m sorry that you’ve lost your child, but I’m returning to Ceres as soon as that Hallow recharges.”
“And I will accompany you.” I open my mouth to argue, but it gives me a narrow-eyed look. “Oh, did you think you had any choice in the matter? I can walk through shadows, little fae. You cannot hide from me, not matter where you go. I will find you.”
I swear the fucking thing is smiling at me.
“I protected you while you slept. You owe me a boon, and so my demand is this: You will take me with you until I choose to depart your side.”
“How does that help you find your child?”
“The future is a strange and nebulous thing. Try not to think about it too much. You’ll strain a muscle.”
There’s only one good thing about this entire situation: Grimm is going to drive Thiago and Eris to the edge of frustration.
I can hardly wait.
I’m almost nodding off when something suddenly yowls in my ear.
Clapping a hand to my chest, I sit up sharply, but the grimalkin merely bumps its head against me. “Wake up, pudding brain.”
“What’s wrong?” I gasp. “Are we under attack?”
“If we were under attack, then you would see the ground
