By Cynthia Wilfert
Prince Wilfred would not hold still.
This made a trying task of threading tiny, shield-shaped buttons through delicate holes, but Edvin persisted. It was his duty to properly attire the teenaged prince for the coronation ceremony, despite Wilfred’s nervous fidgeting.
Footsteps padded closer. Edvin glanced to his left to see the sleek black feline who’d sidled up to the prince’s side. Violet eyes pierced him.
“I know,” he murmured to Serafina. They both sensed Wilfred’s agitation.
The thirty-pound cat peered up at her prince. She purred, a deep, rumbling sound that could be felt through the floorboards.
Edvin finished wrangling the sleeve cuff and guided Wilfred’s hand to Serafina’s head. “Serafina seems concerned for you, your highness.”
Wilfred startled, blinking. He tightened his fingers into fists and then shook them, as if he could shake the anxiety away. “Sorry, Fina.”
Serafina rubbed her face against Wilfred’s thigh as he stroked her ears.
Wilfred cleared his throat. “Surely you’re not going to start calling me ‘highness,’ Edvin.”
They’d grown up together, more like brothers than master and servant. But overfamiliarity with a prince was more forgivable than with a king. “Not in private,” Edvin said. “Unless you wish me to.”
“I don’t. I wish…” Wilfred shook his head. His breathing hitched.
He didn’t need to explain. Edvin knew the boy did not want to be king. But he also wouldn’t wish his father back to life. Very few would want to resurrect the malicious man who’d treated his family and subjects alike with callous cruelty. Wilfred in particular had been a target for his violent tendencies.
Edvin started on the other cuff. He took care to be gentle as he closed the fabric over a yellowing bruise, a remnant of the prince’s last encounter with his father. The king had been assassinated the next day—found dead in his chambers with a precise puncture wound to the throat. No witnesses had come forth; no weapon had been recovered.
Serafina meowed, claiming Wilfred’s attention again. He grinned and knelt to look her in the eye. Her tail swished behind her, sunlight catching the golden patches that patterned her coat.
She was every inch a royal cat, a rare breed called king’s cats and owned only by the elite. Some speculated that they were empathic, as they bonded to their chosen humans and were so closely attuned to their masters’ emotions.
Serafina was no exception. She trilled at Wilfred, and he cooed back at her, carrying on their own brand of conversation.
Edvin turned to grab the next piece of Wilfred’s coronation ensemble. It was a thick, high-collared vest, an extra protective layer meant to hinder weapons. Wilfred reluctantly stood and submitted to it with a sigh.
As Edvin tightened the vest, he nodded toward Serafina. “She sounds certain of your fitness for the throne.”
“How do you know she wasn’t complaining about her dinner?” Wilfred asked with a spark of humor.
“I like to think she and I know each other better than that. After all, I’m the one who’ll be removing cat fur from the coronation robes.”
Serafina suddenly went still, violet eyes training on something in the corner. Edvin followed her gaze. He barely managed not to flinch when he spotted a large spider creeping along the wall.
It was the size of a songbird. The species wasn’t poisonous, but Wilfred was deathly afraid of the things. Luckily, he had yet to notice it. It would certainly not help his already frayed nerves.
A knock on the door stole their attention.
“Enter,” Wilfred called.
Kennard, the head of the prince’s guard, strode into the chamber. “Your excellency,” he said with an elaborate bow.
“Oh, not you, too.”
Kennard grinned as he straightened. Like Edvin, he was more of a friend to Wilfred than a subject. “Best practice our propriety. You’re looking very official in your royal garb.”
Wilfred tugged at the high collar of the vest. “Is this protective layer really necessary? It’s rather restrictive.”
Kennard grimaced in sympathy. “I’m afraid it is. We need to take extra precautions until we find the assassin.”
Edvin glanced at the wall. The spider had skittered several feet closer. Serafina sat motionless, watching it.
“There’s been no progress then?” Wilfred asked.
“No solid leads.” Kennard sighed. “We’re pursuing all avenues, but the suspect pool is rather… unwieldy.”
Edvin thought this a very polite way to point out that most everyone in the kingdom had wanted the king dead.
Wilfred nodded, resigned. He pulled at the hem of the vest. “I’m just going to get a breath of fresh air.” He crossed the room and slipped out onto the balcony.
Instead of following, Serafina stalked toward the wall.
Kennard looked after the prince, uneasy. “I’m not sure the open air is a good idea.”
“He’ll be fine,” Edvin said.
Kennard squinted at him. “Do you know something I don’t?”
“I don’t know anything for certain.”
Serafina suddenly pounced, leaping a good six feet in the air. One extended claw impaled the spider, killing it instantly.
She landed with grace and used her teeth to pick up the creature’s body. She then calmly crossed the room to Edvin and dropped it at his feet. It rolled, the perfect perforation on display.
“Thank you,” he told her.
She trilled in response and moved away, padding out to Wilfred’s side. Kennard stared after her, eyes wide.
“I don’t believe your assassin is in your suspect pool,” Edvin said softly. “Just as I’m confident that Wilfred is in no danger.”
Kennard drew in a measured breath. “I see,” he muttered.
Edvin chose his words with care. “You and I have always served him as best we could. But Serafina was born to protect him.”
“Well, then.” After another moment of consideration, Kennard gave a firm nod. “She’ll be a great ally, moving forward.”
They watched as the feline nuzzled her prince. “And this afternoon, she will be a true king’s cat.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Some people say that a dog is man’s best friend…
…But in this case, they were wrong. :D
Yes! I love dogs, but in this case, Serafina can definitely handle the guardian and best friend duties. 🙂
Thank you for reading and commenting!
an enjoyable read. serafina would be challenging as a lap cat…. (;
Thank you! I’m glad you enjoyed.
Yes, it would be challenging… but I have a 30 lb. Dachshund who manages to be a lap dog, so Serafina could probably find a way, too. :)
I love the idea of a protective assassin cat! Nothing like my cat!
Thank you! While I don’t have a best cat friend of my own, I do believe they are certainly smart enough to be protective assassins… if they choose. :) Thank you for commenting!
Thirty pounds of royal loyalty!
Enjoyable and wonderfully descriptive.
Thank you so much! I’m glad you enjoyed. :)
I thought it was a great little story. I enjoyed it.
Thank you! 🙂
I absolutely LOVED this story!! So well written and so descriptive! I had a strong visual image throughout the entire story!
Thank you so much for the wonderful complement! I’m really glad you enjoyed it. :)
I want a cat like that. :)
I am told that, when I was a baby, my father had found an injured cat and “repaired ” it with safety pins instead of stitches. It decided that it would sleep in my pram at my feet. It would scratch anyone who tried to move it but, when I was a toddler, I could carry it around – sometimes by its tail – without it complaining. Unfortunately, I don’t remember that part of my life at all.