Chapter 1076: The Cat is Awake [Part 4]

Chapter 1076 – The Cat is Awake [Part 4]

Her mind blurred for a second.

She pressed her forehead to the earth.

Freedom was harder than she remembered.

In the distance, Lux entered the garden barefoot like a man who had not learned reasonable fear from plants.

The eastern dragon woman followed behind him, elegant and calm. Naomi came too, face worried. Sira lingered near the doorway with a wine glass. Lullaby was not there, likely too sleepy to participate in botanical cat retrieval. Gula peeked from behind Naomi while holding another snack.

Lux looked around. "Veyra."

The plant woman smiled brightly. "Lord Lux."

"Did you see an orange cat?"

Veyra’s eyes sparkled. "Perhaps."

Runa crouched lower.

’Betray her, plant woman, and one day I will salt your entire bloodline.’

Veyra tilted her head toward the hidden shrub.

Runa’s soul prepared violence.

But Veyra only said, "She is frightened."

Lux’s expression changed. Softened. Annoyingly. "She should be."

Naomi stepped forward. "Can we get her safely?"

Veyra looked toward the shrub, smile gentle. "I can, but I don’t think she wants hands yet."

Correct!

Finally, someone understood basic dignity.

Lux crouched several paces away from the shrub.

He did not reach in.

Good. He was learning.

"Hey, angry cat."

Runa’s claws dug into the soil.

Lux continued, voice low. "You found the poison garden. Excellent choice. Terrible for escape, great for dramatic symbolism."

Naomi sighed. "Lux."

"What? She’s hiding under a plant that drinks nightmares."

Runa looked up sharply.

The shrub above her rustled affectionately.

Nightmare-drinking plant?

She had chosen that?

Why did it feel comfortable?

Absolutely cursed.

Lux lowered his tone. "I’m not dragging you back."

Runa did not believe him.

"You can stay under there if you want. But your body needs rest. Aela’s healing won’t hold forever if you keep running."

The cat instincts agreed.

Runa hated them for treason.

Her limbs trembled harder.

Lux noticed. His eyes sharpened, but he still did not move closer.

Naomi knelt beside him. Her voice was softer. "You’re safe here."

Runa’s gaze shifted to Naomi through the leaves.

Naomi’s face was open. Worried. Warm. Human.

But not weak.

There was a quiet spine in her. The kind Runa remembered from women who survived courts by smiling while hiding knives in their sleeves.

Naomi continued, "I know you don’t trust us. You don’t have to yet."

Lux glanced at her.

Naomi looked at the shrub, not him. "But Lux broke the tower. He won’t put you into another cage."

Runa looked back at Lux.

He held her gaze through the leaves.

No spell.

No command.

No chains.

Just patience.

A demon showing patience?

Suspicious.

Dangerous.

Handsome, but still suspicious.

The plant woman whispered to one of her flowers, "She’s considering it."

Runa hissed. Again.

Veyra smiled. "Sorry."

Lux held out his hand palm-up, but kept it on the ground, far enough away that she would need to choose the distance.

"If you want to scratch me to let your anger out, go ahead. I won’t be mad."

Naomi gave him a look. "That’s your invitation?"

Lux looked at her. "It should work. Cats love scratching things, especially people."

Runa stared at his hand.

Large.

Warm.

Steady.

A demon’s hand.

The kind of hand that could break a curse or make one.

The same hand that had touched the tower and torn her prison apart.

Her body trembled again.

The original cat soul inside her stirred faintly.

Warm. Safe?

Runa wanted to spit.

Instead, she crawled forward one tiny step.

Then another.

The nightmare shrub released its branches slowly, as if letting go of a secret.

Runa emerged from beneath the leaves with all the dignity possible for a limping orange cat covered in magical garden dust.

Which was none.

Lux did not smile.

If he smiled, she would scratch his face.

He simply waited.

Runa reached his hand.

Stopped.

Then lifted her paw and pressed one claw into his palm. Not enough to wound. Enough to make a point.

Lux’s mouth curved faintly. "Fair."

Then Runa’s strength failed.

Her tiny body sagged.

Lux caught her before she hit the ground gently.

The warmth of his hand wrapped around her again, and she hated how relieved the cat body felt.

Naomi exhaled.

Veyra clapped quietly. "Lovely."

Sira called from the doorway, "Did the tower cat surrender?"

Runa opened one eye and hissed weakly.

Lux looked down at her. "No," he said. Then, in a voice dark with amusement and strange respect, he added, "She negotiated temporary medical custody."

Runa closed her eyes.

Correct.

Temporary.

She would leave later.

After rest.

After healing.

Later.

For now, she allowed herself to be carried.

Because revenge required survival.

And survival, apparently, required tolerating Lux Vaelthorn.

Runa hated that sentence.

She hated it with the remaining dignity of a great sorcerer whose current body weighed less than a winter cloak and had an unreasonable obsession with warmth. She hated the way Lux’s arm held her securely against his chest, one hand supporting her small ribs, the other curved beneath her paws.

Worst of all, he was warm.

Demons should not be warm in comforting ways.

They should burn, tempt, manipulate, corrupt, and ruin your life while saying you were special.

But this demon carried her like she was fragile.

They took her inside.

Runa gave up halfway down the hall.

Her body was done. Tiny ribs ached. Her paws trembled. Her head felt packed with fog. The original cat’s soul curled somewhere deep and exhausted, no longer dying, but not awake either. Runa’s own power stretched too wide inside the little body, like a queen trying to live in a teacup.

She needed energy.

Food.

Mana.

Something.

Anything.

Preferably not shame.

Then a maid came.

Runa saw her before the others reacted.

This one was different.

Not a puppet.

Real flesh. Real breath. Real pulse beneath smooth skin. Pretty, neat, composed, with calm eyes and a presence that moved through the mansion like a quiet thread.

But behind her... Strings.

Runa’s pupils narrowed.

Magic strings.

Thin, invisible lines of control ran from her fingers, her wrists, her spine, stretching outward through the mansion walls. Runa saw them leading to the other servants and maids, the identical polite things made of wood and spellcraft. Every string ended here.

On her.

The puppet master.