Do you ever find yourself in one of those situations where you were just tired of 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 had never been good at toeing the line.

There I stood in the main outer courtyard with Jitters by my side like some kind of loyal companion. Grinwald’s laughter still floated around my ears. He was probably watching me then, wondering if I was really going to go through with my plan. And yeah, of course, I was. I had a reputation to uphold after all.

“Come on, Jitters,” I flipped one floppy ear of the little guy, “let’s go make some trouble.”

And so I set off, with Jitters, my now little furry accomplice, trotting beside me. If there had been anybody to watch, they would probably have thought that I had finally flipped out. Hell, maybe I had at that. But for all the wrong that it could be taken for, I was no misfit. I just considered that some rules were meant to be bent, if not broken. More especially when those rules involved locking up a bunch of innocent cats just because some highborn lady had a grudge against them. Seriously now, who could bear ill will toward cats? It was like being mad at a baby for giggling. It just didn’t make any sense. And releasing those poor, imprisoned felines from their greenhouse dungeon was the right thing to do.

A slight change of plan. I took the long way around to the greenhouse. There’s something comforting about wandering through the quiet parts of the estate, as, for a moment, I needed to clear my head. Plus, I wanted to arrive at the lunch gathering as late as possible. Ideally, five minutes before it ended. I needed to show Aiden I’d kept my promise to attend the reception while also limiting my time with Catherine. The more I was in her presence, the more uneasy I felt.

The graveyard wasn’t too far off this path, and I’d been meaning to pay a visit. I didn’t make a habit of hanging out among the dead, but sometimes a guy had to remind himself where he ended up when all was said and done. But honestly, let me tell you that visiting this eerie place always gave me the jitters.

‘Meow.’

“Not you, Jitters,” I chuckled. “I meant I sometimes feel nervous coming here—” I stopped and gazed down. Jitters also halted in his tracks and looked up at me. “Hey, Jitters, can you read my thoughts?”

He tilted his head, gaping at me with those green eyes of his.

“Hmm… so you can’t read what’s currently on my mind, right?”

‘Meow.’

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

The Stormbourne cemetery wasn’t just an ordinary graveyard. It was more of a monument to the family’s bullheadedness. No, strike 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 whispered 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 recalled 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 began telling me tales about Aurelian that were missing from the history books. Either our historians had no clue about those stories, or they were 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 grin of his and said Aurelian was just like me. Anyway, until now, I still couldn’t figure out what Gramps was trying to tell me. Or maybe I just didn’t want to.

It was in his late twenties when Aurelian was first acknowledged by the family and across the kingdom. The stories about him were legendary, handed down like dandelion seeds in 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 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.

My destination was finally in sight. The sun was already high in the sky, casting sleek shadows across the estate. I breathed in the scent of flowers and damp earth. Jitters sensed my mood, rubbing against my leg, then 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.

I 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.”

Off we went 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.