A wise man once said, ‘If you can’t avoid the storm, learn to steer it.’ I figure it’s high time I grab the wheel. The way out of an unwanted situation is either to prevent it from happening or manipulate it to your advantage.

So, here I am, hoping to take control of this whole situation as I walk up to the person who can help me with that. Warden Grinwald was the kind of man who could turn a mere look into a stare-down. Even though I had been under his watchful eye for years, I still hadn’t quite figured out what went on in that head of his. Well, now’s the time to solve this mystery that has seized my attention, or at least get a clue about what’s going on.

Grinwald stood at the edge of the courtyard, arms crossed, eyes following the last estate soldiers until they were well dispersed from their task. Even at that distance, it was clear he was lost in thought. Broad shoulders stiff with tension. A stern face might as well have been carved from stone. Of all the people to predict what was going to happen or make it out of whatever madness was about to brew at this estate, it would be this guy. And if I have any sense in me whatsoever, that’s exactly where I’d stick, absorbing every bit of information I could drill from him.

“Hey, Warden,” I called, keeping it light. “Got any advice for me on how to survive this charade?”

Grinwald didn’t turn, likely enjoying the fidgeting I must be doing in reaction to his ignoring me. Either that, or maybe my voice was just too soft. I took a moment to study the way he perceived me, calling him and shifting to surprise as soon as he noticed me from this slight tilt of head to slight tilt of head. His eyes narrowed slightly. Surprise shifted into a cool, reserved nod when he realized it was us meeting each other here.

“Oh, Alex! Where did you spring from?” His eyes flicked down to the sword strapped at my side, eyebrows raising. “And since when did you start parading around the estate armed like a swordsman?”

I explained my story briefly, mindful of the time I was wasting on explanations. I laid out how I had been on a wild goose chase, looking for the old man who had laid me out at the Stag’s, but in the end, I got spiked with a drink by an old bartender. I omitted the part about the bar vanishing into thin air. The very last thing I needed was for Grinwald to figure I had lost my wits, or worse yet, that I was drunk out of my mind and imagining things.

Grinwald roared with laughter. “So you got knocked out by another old man? You must have gotten soft, Alex. Do I need to take over and show you how it’s done?”

I dismissed the idea with a wave. “I’ll handle it. But speaking of weird, what do you make of the Lysanders’ convoy? Why would there be so many soldiers in just an escort of Catherine? She’s here on a visit only, isn’t she?”

Grinwald’s expression changed. For a moment, I felt its enormity. It seemed to be assessing me, deciding how much to confide, or whether I had pieced things together on my own.

“Catherine ain’t just any guest,” he drawled. “She is Duke Lysander’s daughter, and her being here is political. Well, sure, it is more than that. The soldiers’ numbers were not only for protecting her but for sending a message.”

I scrunched up my nose. The parts of this puzzle were still not connecting together. “To us? Or is it some bigger action?”

Grinwald leaned in just a bit. “Well Alex, since you were either ignorant or did not want to know about the politics in our kingdom, let me at least give you a tiny glimpse of the present situation. Our king, Leopold, is getting on in years. He is also not well. The general speculation is that he may abdicate soon. This has made way for his younger and only brother, Duke Lysander, to be considered the new heir apparent, or at the very least, a frontrunner regarding major stakes for what follows.”

“Hold on a second, big guy,” I interrupted. “But doesn’t the king have a daughter? Why not pass the throne to her?”

“Ah, there’s the rub,” Grinwald said with a wry smile. “The king does have a daughter. A year younger than you.”

“So, what’s the problem? Can’t the ruler of our kingdom wear a skirt? Why does it always have to be a dude?”

Grinwald chuckled. “The king probably agrees with you on this. But tradition runs deep in our kingdom. The crown usually passes to a man. That said, King Leopold has never been one to blindly follow the old rules. He’s already defied tradition with his policies. Who’s to say he won’t do it again?” He then continued in a hinting tone. “Probably not to his daughter, but to someone more experienced, someone who’s contributed significantly to our kingdom’s peace and prosperity… someone who most people all over the kingdom love and respect greatly.”

I wonder who he’s really talking about. Could he mean me? Nah, that’s ridiculous.

“I see.” I rubbed my chin. Then stopped abruptly. “Wait a minute! You mean to tell me the king might consider appointing my father as his successor?”

Grinwald raised his hands in a defensive gesture. “I didn’t say that.”

I squinted at him. Well, he had said it without saying it, if his tone was anything to go by. “So why’s Catherine here?”

“Think about it, Alex. Your brother Aiden is next in line as the head of your house. Lady Catherine is here to make sure her future husband, assuming that’s the plan, supports her father’s bid for the throne.”

“That bitch!” I gritted my teeth, fists clenched. “She’s not even married to Aiden yet, and she’s already scheming.”

Grinwald’s laughter boomed again, but it was cut short by a soft meow. He glanced down at Jitters, who had been sitting quietly beside me. “Where did this little guy come from?”

“Oh, this is Jitters, the new cat in the estate,” I answered, as if it were the most natural thing to say.

“Meow.”

Before Grinwald could say anything more on that, I brought the conversation back on track. “And what about my father? Will he support the Duke?”

Grinwald’s face turned thoughtful. “Your father is loyal to the King, above all. The Duke’s going to have to do some mighty fine talking to get him on his side. I think the reason for the meeting between the King and the high nobles is because of the succession.”

But something was still unresolved inside of me. “And who’s the guy following Catherine?” I asked. “The one who looks like he could take on an army by himself.”

“That would be Ser Lance White. A Magic Swordsman.”

“Seriously? What rank?”

“Arcane Swordsman.”

“No way! He’s as strong as Uncle Dane?” My eyebrows raised. “And he’s only in his early thirties, right?”

Grinwald nodded. “The Duke has gathered some of the most powerful swordsmen around him. Besides Ser Lance, there is another Arcane Swordsman whose name escapes me. Then Ser Dorian Ashenwood, a Mystic Swordsman, and of course Ser Octavius Strong, who is the second strongest swordsman in the kingdom, a Legendary Swordsman.”

My jaw hit the ground as I listened. “Why do you look so shocked?” Grinwald added. “Your father is at the Transcendent level.”

I scratched my head, trying to keep up with the rankings. “What’s after Mystic?”

“Legendary. Why? You planning on climbing the ranks yourself?” Grinwald chuckled.

I shot him a look. “Just curious. Has this ‘Strong’ dude ever crossed swords with my father?”

Grinwald shook his head. “Not that I’m aware of. Their paths haven’t crossed like that.” He hesitated, then turned his attention back to the mansion. He squinted at something or someone approaching us. “Your brother is coming for you. You are needed at the lunch reception, Alex.”

I glanced to see Alistair. His face was iron-hard as usual. Wonderful. Just what I needed.

As Alistair drew near, I tried to keep whatever his upcoming lecture was about in perspective. “What’s up, dude? Just couldn’t resist coming over to check on me?”

“You were supposed to be here before Lady Catherine arrived,” he snapped. “Aiden was asking about you.” His eyes fell on Jitters. “Why is there a cat here?” He glanced from me to Grinwald and back at me. “I thought I ordered the servants to round up all the cats and lock them in the western greenhouse until Catherine leaves. Aiden said she’s allergic to cats.”

I’m still trying to figure out why Alistair is so obsessed with every little detail. Does he really think Catherine’s going to lose it over a single cat?

“You locked up all the cats?” I protested. “Alice is going to lose her mind when she finds out.”

Alistair’s lips twitched, but he held his ground. “She ain’t here, so how’s she gonna know?”

“I see, so you really planned this in advance.” My eyes narrowed at him. “I never thought you’d turn out to be a schemer, Alistair.”

“Put that aside for now,” he said. “Whose cat is this?”

“It’s Nibble’s kid, Jitters,” I replied casually. “He followed me from town, and he’s going to live here now with the rest of his family.”

Alistair looked at Grinwald before turning back to me. “Why the hell did you bring another cat to the estate?”

“Another?” My brows furrowed. “This is the first cat I ever brought here.”

Alistair’s jaw dropped. “Are you really that daft, seriously? You’re the reason we have so many cats in the first place!”

“Since when?” I protested.

“For the past two years, you numbskull! Sometimes when you return to the estate at night, drunk, you bring cats along with you.”

“Really?” I glanced at Grinwald, who nodded. No wonder there were times I woke up and found a cat in my room after drinking all night, starting with Nibbles. I would always hand them over to Alice, saying that these were presents from me. “Well, anyway, this little guy here is Nibbles’ son, so he’s staying here and that’s that,” I replied staunchly.

“Why do you think he’s Nibbles’ kid?” Alistair squinted at me.

“Look at him,” I said. We all turned to Jitters. “Sure, the fur color and size are different, but their faces are almost identical.”

For a beat, no one said anything. Then Alistair lost it. “You idiot! Most cats look alike!”

Look at this guy. He’s been running his mouth for a while now, and he’s called me names one too many times. Should I knuckle his noggin to remind him who he’s dealing with? He probably thinks that just because Grinwald is here, I wouldn’t dare do it.

“Is your head feeling itchy, Alistair?” I asked with mock sweetness.

He gulped. “What do you mean?” His eyes inched over to where Grinwald was, who suddenly gazed up at the sky and whistled a tune that would have been more appropriate in literally any other situation.

“Well, Alistair?” I demanded. “Why are you so quiet all of a sudden?”

“All right, all right!” Alistair raised his hands. “Just go lock up this Jitters with the others in the greenhouse and change into proper clothing. I’ll tell Aiden you will join us later.” He turned and hurried back toward the mansion, Jitters hissing at his retreating figure.

“Don’t worry, pal,” I murmured, scratching behind his ears. “You’re not getting locked up in any greenhouse.”

As Alistair walked up the short stairs of the mansion, Grinwald spoke up. “You’re going to release all the cats, aren’t you?”

“Yep.”

“And you are not going to change into proper attire?”

“Yep.”

“And you are also bringing this little guy to the lunch reception.”

“You’ve gotten good at this, old man.”

“You are the most stubborn Stormbourne I’ve ever known, Alex.”

The two of us looked at each other before bursting into loud laughter. Jitters glanced from one to the other of us, then dispensed a loud mewling, as if he had discovered that laughter was sometimes very contagious. Amidst the mirth in the background, perhaps he is thinking he should be laughing with us.