The Cat Who Knew How to Cry

9. SINGED CATS (part 1)

The road was guarded by stone panthers on either side. The glow of the Eyes plated their black backs with silver grey. All was quiet. Only the occasional calls of birds nesting under the arches of deserted temples periodically disturbed the calm. Anar slid along the formations of statues, hiding in the shadows of their massive pedestals. His paws tickled in anticipation of escape; the nape of his neck quivered excitedly.

He froze suddenly, sensing a nearby presence.

She was sitting solemnly on a pedestal, straight and proud, bright green eyes fixed on Anar. The city's forbidden territory was forbidden to her as well, but she couldn't be bothered concealing herself. Anar gave a wry laugh – who would dare reproach the empress of Rual – the god-like Queen Alara – about anything? Even in a simple dark dress with no jewelry or crown, her true form remained unchanged: a majestic woman before whom one could hardly fight the urge to prostrate oneself and humbly listen to her will. Anar emerged from the shadows and took on bipedal form.

"You've lost the last traces of sanity, dear nephew. You, who will ascend the throne after my husband and who's keeping my son from taking his father's place," sighed Alara.

"You have the right to be angry, my queen," Anar got down on his knees before her, bowing his head.

Emanating repentance with his whole being, he simultaneously prepared himself to counter any possible attack by Alara.

"I no longer have the right," she answered in a bizarrely meek tone.

Anar was so taken aback by these words that he lifted his head and looked Alara in the eyes, expecting to see mockery there. But there was none. Instead he saw emptiness and fatigue – unprecedented, inconceivable feelings for a queen.

"Unlike you, impudent fool, I've always known my place. That is my wisdom," said Alara. "You've found favor with a tal sianae, and I don't dare contest her will. I won't kill you or even tell my husband of your sacrilege."

"How did you – "

"How quickly you've forgotten everything you've been taught! You dare to ask me questions without permission? Poor Amialis! Wasted so many years on you..." Alara suddenly laughed, and it occurred to Anar that he had never seen this imperturbable woman so natural and full of life.

"You remember everything! You know the truth about Briaellar and Alasais!" he spat without warning. For the briefest moment a glimpse of something flashed across his aunt's face... like the vestige of a past life. And that something gave her away beyond any doubt.

"That is my eternal sorrow," Alara bowed her head. "I remember much of what I'd like to forget. And you, my naive nephew, will soon find out why." She said this candidly, almost tenderly, which was even more surprising than her rolling laugh. "I feel sorry for you. You have no idea the kind of gutter you're about to plunge into. And what rats will be wallowing in it with you. Annoying, stupid, licentious creatures, degenerates whose souls reek as badly as their bodies. And you, my boy, will be forced to regard these mayflies – petty mortals without a drop of Alaean blood, without a shadow of the gift of magic – as your equals. Ye-es, such are the perverted laws in the realm of chaos from which there is no escape. There, beyond the Curtain, you won't be able to simply squash one of these detestable insects. You'll have to tolerate them, and you'll see..." Alara looked Anar in the eye for a long time, "that even Alasais has to do so as well.

"And besides these contemptible beings, there are also others, some of whom are infinitely stronger than you. Think about it: beyond the Curtain you won't be the powerful heir to the throne, respected and feared by everyone... even the king."

Anar didn't know how to respond, or whether to respond at all. How could he explain to her – a creature who had willingly confined herself to Rual – that his heart detested this status of a crowned slave, chained to the throne?