The Proud Princess and the Offended, Flying Cat

“You’re cursed.”
“Cursed?” the flying cat in the hat exclaimed.
“I mean,” Damarishka said, “you were once human, and he cursed you.” She pointed at Darian.
“Human? I hope not.” The flying cat shuddered. “Humans are so un-fuzzy and have a bad sense of smell.”

Continuing the fairy tale which I wrote in Czech and am translating into English for fun! What’s happened so far is SO CLICHE! All the cliches, y’all. A dastardly masked stranger ruins a spoiled princess’s ball with a magic ring and a contract that claims her father gave her to him in marriage to save his kingdom. He spirits her off in his flying carriage. Oh, dear, what will she do with such a cliched problem?

If you want to start from the beginning, all the previous parts are here: The Proud Princess and the Masked Mage. Otherwise jump right in lol–>

IN THE PREVIOUS INSTALLMENT:

Below their flying carriage now plunged a seemingly immeasurable abyss.

Damarishka’s eyes rounded. “Where are we?”

“We’re crossing the protective enchantment around my kingdom,” Darian answered willingly enough, but with an inscrutable expression.

“It looks like the end of the world,” Damarishka murmured.

“Maybe it will be the beginning of yours,” Darian murmured just as softly.

And then the darkness was broken by light, and his kingdom unfolded before her.

The continuation (lol prepare for a spot of lightness!):

Below them, craggy mountains stabbed violently upward like rocky titans that had once attempted to tear free of the earth but failed. Frozen forever, half-submerged in great, white-frothed rivers that surged around their waists, the time-eroded peaks hunched proud shoulders under mantles of forests.

Beyond the mountains rolled green hills, clumped together like curled-up, sleeping children. And there, in their centre, reigned a vast castle, one even taller and prouder than Damarishka’s. Its central tower rose like a dark sceptre beneath the sky, surrounded by rows of concentric corner towers.

Ivy overgrew half the castle, as well as the defensive wall of bastions that wound around it.

Most unbelievable, though, was that all the castle stones shone iridescent black, as if the bricks consisted of the crushed carapaces of beetles.

Despite its walls being reminiscent of smashed insects, though, it was the most imposing castle Damarishka had seen in her life. As their carriage jolted downward, she kept staring like a country bumpkin at the equally black outbuildings in the courtyard: stables like ebony, a smithy’s like dark marble, a chicken coop of shimmery black, where surely black hens were laying black eggs bred by a black rooster and—

She sounded as if she were in a fairy tale! ‘Behind seven mountains and seven lakes and seven hills…’ So much repetition!

She must not be lulled to complacency by fairytale innocence, though. Her betrothed (abductor, fiend…) held a reputation as black as his castle, and she must hold onto that knowledge to keep him (and her excitement?) at bay.

At last, the carriage landed in the centre of the courtyard, and wicked Darian vaulted from it. He chivalrously offered Damarishka his hand as sunshine illumined him like a favourite, its rays brilliant on the facets of his golden mask, which glittered in stark contrast the black stone and dark ivy behind him.

In the worst sort of dream, Damarishka lifted her proud cat in her arms and stepped toward the carriage door…

And hesitated. What eerie delegation of horrors would greet her here? What twisted contortions of servants would he rule? What—

Darian, openly impatient with her terror, slipped his gloved hands around her waist and hoisted her out, will she or nil she. She sucked in a breath at his effrontery, but then her slippers were alighting on glossy black stone and—

There. The first monster to greet her! Not even human, but airborne! Its face hidden behind a hat, his legs backward-jointed and covered in black fur and—

It alighted before her and bowed while doffing its hat to reveal—

A flying black cat wearing a hat?

“My lady!” The cat swept off his hat completely and bowed. “Welcome to our humble castle.”

Damarishka gaped. Only a cat?

A second later it dawned on her that the cat had spoken. She angled Darian an uncertain look. “Is that animal talking to me?”

Darian grinned (and how dare he have an array of perfect teeth). “Don’t say he’s below your social stratum.”

“I am insulted!” declared the flying cat. “Master, kindly explain to her that I am no animal! I am a cultured creature with developed abilities! Mistress should realize this and acknowledge that I am truly admirable!”

Darian raised an eyebrow at Damarishka expectantly.

She was supposed to apologize?

Abruptly, the truth struck her into stillness. “You’re cursed.”

“Pardon?” The cat flattened his hat to his throat.

“He cursed you.” Damarishka pointed at Darian, whose grin went stilted.

“Cursed?” The cat smashed the hat back onto his ears and huffed. “I am magically endowed! Above all other cats! I talk. I fly. I somersault!” He demonstrated.

“I mean,” Damarishka said, “you were once human.”

“I hope not.” The flying cat in the hat shuddered. “Humans are so un-fuzzy and have a bad sense of smell.” Abruptly getting over his offense, he curiously measured the cat she was still holding in her arms. “That poor fellow can’t walk, my lady, that you must carry him?”

At this, her proud cat leaped down and landed gracefully. “I am perfectly perambulatory.”

Damarishka had scarcely come to terms with conversing with a flying black cat in a hat, let alone having her own cat suddenly find his voice!

“And how beautifully I perambulate!” he expostulated, parading around with his tail haughtily hoisted like the banner of a flagship.

The cat in the hat crossed his front paws over his chest and propped himself against the carriage wheel. “If my hat walked, I would be impressed. But please understand that your walk does not excite me in any way. That’s really all you can do? And you’re so proud of yourself for such poor art? Pffff! What a world today. Everything out there must really have gone to the pigs! How did you survive out there, my lord?” He faced Darian, who had been listening with his own arms crossed and his lips curved with amusement.

The inveterate wizard tipped a secret smile toward Damarishka. “I had a pleasant task on my plate.”

“Plate! Ach!” The cat in the hat slapped his forehead. “My manners have fled along with the wits of this tragic cat!” He quickly bowed again. “You must be hungry as a wolf, and here I stand marvelling at the creature you’ve brought with you! You must be overjoyed to be restored to a normal environment, Master. Come along then. A dinner worthy of a king awaits!” He glanced at Damarishka and winked dramatically. “And surely for a princess, too.”

Darian offered her his elbow again. “Dare you enter?”

“Did you curse him?” Damarishka asked outright.

“He was never,” Darian studied the creature leading them, “human.”

She opened her mouth but found that she would rather not know.

Then Darian touched his fingertips to his castle door, and the polished black wood swung inward, inviting her deeper into his realm.

Dun dun dun…! What awaits? Find out here 😀 Thanks for reading my part-gothic, part-mocking fairy tale! Heiress of Secrets is still going, slooooooow unfortunately, but high on my agenda. Random excerpt from a recent part I edited (this is a shapechanger currently in the form of an owl):

Wheeling downward on hushed feathers, she glided through an open window in the weapons tower and landed on human feet in a musty room.

The scents of sweat, steel, and leather instantly overpowered her and she crinkled her nose. Had no one in this warrior hoard ever heard of soap and water?

Human men. Gads.

Thank you again for reading! I hope everyone out there is doing FANTASTIC. Thrice the Shadow.

Be kind to everyone this week, y’all!

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