Do you ever find yourself in one of those situations where you were just fed up with playing by everyone else’s rules? I sure did. All the time, actually. It was a bit of a problem, really, but what could I say? I’d never been good at following the script.

There I stood in the outer courtyard with Jitters by my side like some kind of loyal companion. Grinwald’s laughter from earlier still echoed in my ears, and I could just imagine him walking away, shaking his head, wondering if I was really going to go through with the plan.

And yeah, of course I was. After all, I had a reputation to uphold. People might call me reckless, impulsive, possibly even a little crazy. But you know what? I like it that way. I’m not interested in being the predictable, boring one. I’m the wildcard in play. The unpredictable factor. That’s how I earned my name.

“Come on, Jitters,” I said, flicking one of his floppy ears. “Let’s go make some trouble.”

He gave me that look, the one that clearly said, “Are you sure about this?” But by then, it was too late for second thoughts. Not that I had any, anyway. I had already made up my mind.

So off we went toward the western greenhouse, Jitters trotting alongside me like some furry accomplice, blissfully unaware that we were about to pull off something that could probably be considered a criminal act. Not that I really cared. In fact, if anyone had been watching from a distance, they might’ve thought I’d finally lost it. But not in the way they’d assume.

I wasn’t some mindless troublemaker, despite what people might think. I just had this stubborn belief that some rules were meant to be bent, maybe even broken. Especially the ones that were based on some petty grudge.

Take the one that involved locking up a bunch of innocent cats, for example. All because some highborn lady had a bone to pick. Now, who the hell bears a grudge against cats? It’s like being mad at a baby for giggling. There’s no logic in it. It’s just ridiculous.

So yeah, I was going to set those poor, imprisoned felines free. Not because I was some self-righteous hero, but because someone had to do the right thing. Someone had to stand up for them, even if it meant crossing a line.

And apparently, that someone is me.

A slight change of plan. Instead of heading straight to the greenhouse, I decided to take the long way around. There’s something about wandering through the quieter parts of the estate that calms the mind. It’s almost like being able to breathe when the pressure’s been building up. I needed a moment to clear my head.

Besides, I didn’t want to arrive at the lunch gathering too early. Ideally, I’d stroll in five minutes before it ended, just enough to show Aiden I’d kept my promise to attend the reception while also minimizing the time I had to spend with Catherine.

The more I was in her presence, the more uneasy I felt. It was like there was an ominous feeling in the air whenever she was around, something that made my skin crawl.

The graveyard wasn’t far off the path I was taking, and I’d been meaning to pay it a visit for a while now. Not that I was some guy who spent a lot of time hanging out among the dead. But sometimes, I thought it was good to remind yourself of the inevitable. We all end up six feet under, one way or another, and I figured it didn’t hurt to reflect on that every once in a while.

But if I’m being honest, visiting this place always gave me the jitters.

“Meow.”

I glanced down at Jitters, who had suddenly let out a soft sound, pulling me out of my thoughts.

“Not you, Jitters,” I chuckled, shaking my head. “I meant I sometimes feel nervous coming here—”

I stopped mid-sentence, though, when I noticed Jitters had also stopped in his tracks, looking up at me with those wide, green eyes of his. He wasn’t moving, just staring at me like he was waiting for something.

“Hey, Jitters, can you read my thoughts?” I asked, half-joking, but in truth, I was starting to wonder.

He tilted his head, his ears twitching, before staring at me with that same blank expression. It wasn’t like I expected him to answer, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that he understood more than he let on.

“Hmm… so you can’t read what’s currently on my mind, right?” I pressed, just to be sure.

“Meow.”

“All right then,” I nodded, chuckling. “Let’s move along.”

The estate cemetery wasn’t just an ordinary graveyard. It was more of a monument to the family’s bullheadedness. No, forget that, a monument to their resilience.

The Stormbournes had been around for hundreds of years, and most of them had ended up buried on the property. Each gravestone told a story, some more impressive than others. But all of them were plaited into our kingdom’s history. In a way, they were like quests in the world’s most straggly and thrilling adventures.

Between the rows of gravestones, I strolled along, my fingers brushing against the cold stone. Most of the names carved into them were unfamiliar to me. They belonged to men and women who had fought wars, forged alliances, and probably made the same mistakes I was making now, only with fewer cats involved.

The further I walked, the older the stones became. Their inscriptions were worn down by time, almost illegible but still narrating enough for one to discern their importance.

One gravestone, in particular, caught my eye. It was larger than the others. An immense slab of granite that seemed to dare the world to forget the man it honored. Hesitating in front of it, I felt an odd tic of pride and wariness. The name etched into the stone was “Aurelian Stormbourne,” a name that had been spoken in hushed tones whenever my gramps rambled on about the family legacy.

Gramps passed away when I was eight. I couldn’t remember much about him, but I did remember he liked to bring me around the estate when he went for his quiet walks. On one of those walks, he led me here to this grave. He started telling me stories about Aurelian that were missing from the history books. Either our historians didn’t know those stories, or they were just a bunch of lazy blokes.

Aurelian was a legend. He didn’t follow the crowd. He made his own way, sometimes with a sword in hand.

Sound familiar, right?

He was the one who turned the Stormbournes from obscure nobles into one of the most powerful houses in the kingdom. But then Gramps tilted his head down and told me Aurelian never became the head of the family. He was cast out, shunned by his own kin when he was young.

I asked why.

Gramps just gave me that knowing smile of his and said Aurelian was just like me.

Anyway, even now, I still couldn’t figure out what Gramps was trying to tell me. Or maybe I just didn’t want to.

It wasn’t until Aurelian’s late twenties that he was first acknowledged by the family and by the kingdom. The stories about him were legendary, passed down like dandelion seeds on the wind, each one more incredible than the last. He was said to have once stared into the eyes of an entire battalion of enemy soldiers with nothing in his hand except his sword and a wicked grin.

And the curious thing was that he always emerged triumphant. It was as if he had already known how each battle would play out. Pretty strange, right? I didn’t know how much of it was true, but if even half of it was, then Aurelian was one hell of a scary dude.

I drew in a long breath of the chilly air into my chest and gazed at the gravestone.

“So, what would you do, Aurelian?”

I half expected the old man’s ghost to rise and smack me for my cheekiness. But there was only a soft reply of swooshing leaves and Jitters’ curious gaze.

It’s amusing how the dead have a way of making you feel both insignificant and part of something bigger at the same time. It was like they were saying, “We’ve been through this too, kid. You’re not special, but you’re not alone either.”

The journey to the western greenhouse resumed, and my thoughts drifted back to the mess at hand. Duke Lysander, Catherine, the Silverlion soldiers, all the political maneuvering Grinwald was talking about. It was like playing a game of chess. Only the pieces were innocent people and the risks were too damn high.

Aurelian would’ve probably loved it. He was the type to dive headfirst into turmoil, confident that he’d come out on top. Me? I wasn’t so sure. But one thing was clear to me; I couldn’t sit on the sidelines any longer.

The sun was already high in the sky, casting sleek shadows across the estate when Jitters and I reached our destination. I breathed in the scent of flowers and damp earth. Jitters sensed my mood, rubbing against my leg before darting ahead to investigate.

The greenhouse was big, filled with all kinds of plants Mom had collected over the years. But it wasn’t the blooms or herbs that drew my attention. It was the cats—scores of them, confined in there. Their eyes glinted in the dim light as I drew closer. A soft, choral meow rose to greet me. And then another. And fifty more.

“Your hero’s here, kids. Don’t worry.” I reached for the door latch. “Okay, Jitters,” I crouched down to his level. “Time to set them free.”

He meowed like he understood. Together, we opened the door. The cats spilled out in a wave of fur and tails, heading for their usual haunts. Some dashed off right away, while others paused to rub against my legs in thanks before disappearing. I let out a sigh, feeling a quiet satisfaction in this small act of rebellion.

I can almost hear Alistair’s voice in my head, scolding me for ruining his plan, but I don’t care. These cats are family too, and family sticks together, especially when some stuck-up noble bitch thinks they can mess with us.

My body leaned against the doorframe. There was so much going on, so much I didn’t understand. But one thing was clear.

I wasn’t letting anyone, Catherine, the Lysanders, not even my own brothers, tell me where I stood in all this.

The pure Stormbourne blood ran through my veins, after all. Well, not entirely. There was some ale and wine mixed in there too. Anyway, I’d be a wuss if I let it be spilled for someone else’s gain.

Wait a minute. I glanced at the cats that had left the area. One was missing.

Of course, it was the fattest cat on the estate. I entered the greenhouse and called to him. In one corner of the room, my sister’s favorite cat was sleeping on the stone floor.

“Hey, Nibbles, you don’t want to leave?”

He raised his head, opened his eyes, gave me a lazy look, and went back to sleep.

I shook my head, seeing his reaction. Jitters returned to my side, his eyes reflecting the fading light.

“Come on, Jitters, your dad’s just being fat,” I said, scratching behind his ears. “We’ve got a few more things to do before this day is over.”

And so we finally set off toward the main mansion. Along the way, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Aurelian would’ve approved of my actions. Maybe he’d even be proud. But I guess I’d never know. All I could do then was keep moving forward, one step at a time.

When this ridiculous charade wrapped up, I hoped I’d be on the right side of history. Or at least, not six feet under it.