Page 67 of Twisted Bonds
An idea strikes, and I move into the light, stalking towards him.
Hey, big guy, I chirp, brushing up against his legs. Of course he can’t make out my words, but maybe he’ll get the idea. The swift intake of his breath tells me he didn’t see me coming. Didn’t mean to startle you. Just a friendly neighborhood tabby here.
His hand hovers above my fur before he bends down and gives me a hesitant stroke. I lean into his touch, releasing a purr loud enough to echo. “Bobble? What are you up to?”
I flick my tail, cutting through the air with sharp precision. I move away from him and let out a half meow and half purr. I could just shift and talk to him, but I think I’m less threatening in this form. More persuasive. So I walk away and meow, waiting for him to follow. Callum may be standoffish, but I have a feeling curiosity is a hook that always catches him.
“Why not just speak to me if you want something?” His voice holds a tinge of annoyance mixed with intrigue—a cocktail he seems to serve often. He crosses his arm, a sigh heavy between us.
“Fine. Lead the way,” he acquiesces, and I can almost hear the smile tugging at the corner of his lips. That’s right, Callum. Trust the cat. Follow the cat.
I pause long enough to let him catch up and brush against him once more. Pet the cat.
He lets out an amused huff of air as he reaches down to pat my fur. Good Shard.
Let’s take you somewhere you can channel that brooding energy into something investigative.
I trot ahead, making sure he’s trailing behind. We wind through another corridor, and I hear him mutter under his breath. I sense his hesitation, following an unknown person into the depths of this creepy castle. The only thing it’s missing is lava and Bowser.
In the back of my mind, I hum some video game songs.
Finally, at our destination, the door creaks open under my nudge, and the scent of old leather hits me. The room is a sanctuary of learning, with shafts of sunlight cutting through the dust motes, painting the air with brushes of gold. I watch Callum’s frame relax as his gaze sweeps over the weathered spines, the chaos of color dotting the shelves.
“Wow…” he breathes out, the word hanging between us like a sacred promise. I stand back to let him take it all in. The room, the purpose, it’s all unspoken between us. But he understands, and the tension in his shoulders eases just a fraction.
The room is more like a supply closet than anything, but it’s big enough for a stool and table in the middle. The walls are lines floor to ceiling with huge tomes dating back thousands of years. There’s even a box in the corner with old scrolls. I didn’t look at them when I found this place yesterday, just noted that they looked fragile. His hands flex and tighten, already itching to touch, to hold, to read, to study. It’s not just a distraction—it’s a piece of him he needs to reclaim.
“Thank you,” he says, soft enough that I know the gratitude is real. Callum doesn’t look at me; his eyes are fixed on a title that seems to call to his soul. And just like that, without fanfare, he’s lost to the task at hand. I smile internally that my hunch was correct. Just a scholar without something to research.
Anytime, friend, I purr already turning toward my next destination. My heart swells as I leave him to it. Who knew that a little orange tabby could be such a good matchmaker—pairing a man with his passion?
My amber eyes glint with determination as I pad down a set of stairs, feeling the fortress’s secrets unfold beneath my whiskers. This place is a labyrinth of stone, but I’m piecing it together, room by room, heartbeat by heartbeat.
A few turns later, I find Tairyn in his private study, the fortress within a fortress. He’s the picture of brooding intellect, head cradled in his hands, elbows digging into the ancient wood of his massive desk. The fire crackles behind him, casting flickering shadows that dance across his troubled features.
What mysteries hide in that head of his? Of the four of us, he seems to be most reserved, despite his constant barrage of taunts. He’s the most hidden.
I take a deep breath, trying to think. What’s he feeling? What does he need? Not for the first time, I wish I had Sunder’s blue Chroma. If I could understand people as easily as he can, I’d be so much better at making them feel better. Of knowing how I can help.
I watch him closely for a few moments, letting my mind drift. Trying to imagine life as Tairyn.
Ambitious, obviously. Not wanting others around, just by the way he built his home and staff. Willing to go to questionable means to accomplish an end he finds suitable. I glance around the room of endless books and spot the forgotten chess board on a small table by the fireplace.
Games.
Yes, he’d like a game. Something to challenge his mind. A distraction.
Without a sound, I morph back into my human form, towering over the room with my usual grace.
“Tairyn,” I start, breaking the thick silence. “Fancy a game?”
He doesn’t lift his head, but I hear the sigh, see the way his fingers tap an impatient rhythm against his temple. “What sort of foolery—”
He looks up, his eyes trace my nakedness with a trace of distaste. I flush as I remember that not everyone wants a free show. Mira was right. I should have practiced shifting with clothes more. But I push forward, intent on ignoring it.
“I heard you like chess,” I coax, knowing full well he’s wound tighter than a Gnomish spring.
Tairyn finally locks onto my gaze, those keen green eyes narrowing as they appraise me. “You want to play a game of chess? With me?” There’s suspicion there I need to dispel. The last thing he needs is another worry that I might be plotting against him. The thought is almost enough to make me chuckle, but I hold it in.