Lira lounged on a velvet settee in the sunlit parlor, sharing tea with Roland, her father’s beast master. The summer heat hadn’t been kind—sweat darkened patches on Roland’s otherwise well-kept shirt, but he sat ramrod straight, hands folded in his lap.

  He eyed her over the rim of his cup, skepticism plain. “Let me make sure I’ve got this right, Lira. You went out with your team to deal with a cult in the woods. Instead of stopping their ritual, something went wrong and… a woman appeared out of thin air? And now, instead of turning her in or running her out, you’ve brought her here and want me to take her on at the stables? All because you have a gut feeling?”

  Lira couldn’t help but laugh—a soft, genuine sound. “It wasn’t exactly part of the plan. One minute we’re trying to break up a spell, and then—poof—there she is. None of us had a clue who she was, and I’ll admit, she didn’t exactly make the best first impression.” She paused, recalling Katherine’s fierce glare, the stubborn tilt of her chin. “But when it came down to it, she didn’t hurt anyone, even though she could have. Besides, she’s got a familiar who’s already causing a stir in the market.”

  Roland rubbed the back of his neck, brow furrowed. “You’re asking a lot, Lira. I don’t know anything about this woman—what she can do, what she wants. Why should I trust her around the animals, much less the staff?” He tried to keep his tone neutral, but concern crept in around the edges. He’d seen too many strays turn out dangerous, and the idea of letting a stranger near the duke’s prized beasts made his stomach twist.

  Lira hesitated, her fingers tracing the rim of her teacup. She remembered tending to Katherine’s bruises after the bar fight—how Katherine kept apologizing for causing trouble, how stubbornly she faced the pain. “I’m not saying you have to trust her, Roland. Just… talk to her. She’s rough around the edges, but I get the sense she’s more lost than dangerous. And her bond with her familiar is something special, even if it’s new.” She managed a small smile. “If you want to teach her a few things, great. If not, at least give her a chance to prove herself.”

  Roland sighed, torn between caution and a flicker of curiosity. “All right. I’ll talk to her. No promises beyond that.”

  “That’s all I’m asking.” Lira’s relief was visible as she set her cup down and stood, straightening her skirt. “Good, because I’ve already invited her for tea tomorrow.”

  She was halfway to the door when Roland called after her, a note of wariness in his voice. “Lira—what kind of familiar are we talking about here? You never said.”

  Lira paused, a mischievous glint in her eye as she glanced back. “Oh, right. I suppose I forgot to mention. Guess you’ll just have to see for yourself. I wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise.”

  ...

  Katherine hovered uncertainly on the wide stone stoop of the main house, her fingers worrying the edge of her sleeve. The ornate oak door loomed before her, sunlight glinting off polished iron fixtures, while the faint scent of blooming roses drifted from the manicured gardens on a lazy summer breeze. Somewhere inside, the distant clatter of porcelain and the muffled rhythm of footsteps echoed through the halls—a symphony of order that only heightened Katherine’s sense of being out of place.

  She had barely lifted her hand to knock when the door opened, revealing a woman in an immaculate uniform. With a practiced smile, the woman greeted her, “You must be Miss Katherine. The young mistress told us you would be arriving today.” Her tone was both kind and efficient, putting Katherine slightly at ease.

  Katherine blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the warmth of her reception. “‘Young mistress?’” she echoed, her confusion slipping into her voice as she repeated the unfamiliar title.

  The staff member nodded, her voice patient. “Miss Lira Wynford. Didn’t you know? Her father is the duke of this province.” She watched Katherine with polite curiosity, as if searching for clues to her background.

  Katherine shook her head, quickly masking her surprise behind a small, awkward smile. “No, I’m… not from around here,” she said, choosing her words carefully. The word ‘here’ seemed strangely small, considering all she’d been through.

  “Ah, that explains your accent,” the woman replied gently, her tone more observational than accusatory. “In any case, young mistress Wynford has arranged for tea on the patio. Please, follow me—I’ll show you the way.” With a graceful gesture, she stepped aside, allowing Katherine to enter.

  As Katherine stepped inside, her gaze lingered a moment longer than necessary on the minimal guards stationed at the entryways and the number of visible exits—habits born from caution. The hallways revealed polished suits of armor standing sentinel in alcoves, landscapes painted in gilded frames, and potted ferns straining for a few rays of sunlight among the shadows—a parade of noble clichés that somehow felt oddly reassuring in their predictability.

  Katherine studied a painting of a mountain landscape, the light ambiguous—sunrise or sunset, she couldn’t tell. Some stereotypes really are universal, no matter what world you’re in, she thought, catching herself before the words could escape aloud and biting her tongue.

  The staff member blinked, confusion flickering across her face. “What was that?” she asked, glancing at Katherine as if she’d heard a fragment of her inner monologue.

  “Oh, nothing,” Katherine replied, attempting a confident smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She tried to project composure, but the effort was obvious. “Sometimes my inner voices just want out, you know?”

  The woman hesitated, her own uncertainty apparent. “Pardon me, but—I’ve only questioned the young mistress’s judgment twice. This might be the third.”

  After climbing a set of stairs, winding through several hallways, and then descending again, Katherine almost walked straight into a glass door she hadn’t noticed—only the quick reflexes of the household staff kept her from bumping into it.

  Beyond the door, three figures awaited her. Lira stood with a welcoming smile, while the older man beside her wore businesslike pants, a buttoned shirt, and a sensible vest. His hair was combed back in glossy waves, the first hints of gray appearing at his temples. Roland’s gray eyes flickered over Katherine with detached curiosity, as if assessing her without quite seeing her. Katherine figured he was in his forties, noting the faint lines at the edges of his hairline.

  The other woman, poised with elegant yet casual clothes, had eyes of deep sapphire—compassionate, but not the vibrant violet of Lira’s. Katherine guessed she must be Lira’s older sister, though something about her presence suggested a higher status than that.

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  Lira greeted her brightly. “Ah, Katherine, I’m glad you made it.” She gestured to the man. “This is our beast master, Roland.” Roland offered a polite bow, while Lira introduced the woman next: “And this is my mother, Duchess Isolde Wynford.” The duchess responded with a graceful curtsy.

  Katherine blurted out, “Bullshit,” before she could stop herself. Mortified, she faked a sneeze to mask her slip, heat flooding her cheeks as she realized she’d likely made a terrible first impression.

  Isolde’s lips twitched in amusement. “Flattery will get you far, Katherine,” she said, her tone warm. “My daughter was fortuitous enough to warn us that you might have a penchant for colorful language.”

  Roland shrugged, unfazed. “Honestly, I’ve said worse. Usually only my colleagues hear me. It could have been worse.”

  They gathered around a table clearly prepared for the occasion—steam curled lazily from the ornate teapot, its intricate handle glinting in the sunlight. The scent of fresh scones and roses drifted in from the garden, wrapping the patio in a subtle warmth. Bowls of sugar—one filled with cubes, another with fine grains—sat beside a third dish holding a selection of tea bags, ready to be steeped in cups of hot water.

  Isolde’s eyes softened with genuine curiosity as she poured herself some tea. Her tone was gentle but probing as she broke the conversational ice. “So, Katherine, tell us about yourself.”

  Katherine hesitated, carefully choosing her words while weighing just how much to share. “I’m new here…by means I don’t really understand,” she admitted, voice quiet but steady. “Lira helped me out of a tough spot and made things a little more bearable.”

  Isolde smiled reassuringly, passing the pot to Roland. “Well, that’s to be expected. We all find ourselves in strange places sometimes.”

  Roland leaned forward, interest flickering across his face. “Lira mentioned you have a familiar.” His words hinted at more than casual curiosity—almost like he was sizing Katherine up as a possible apprentice.

  Katherine managed a faint grin, letting some of her guard down. “Yeah, I do—but Shade’s kind of unpredictable right now. I’ve had to scold him twice already for snatching meat from market carts. He seems to prefer spiced meats over sweets, from what I’ve seen.”

  Roland scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Might just be the environment he grew up in as a young beast.”

  Katherine caught Roland’s curiosity and offered, “Want to meet him?”

  Roland opened his mouth, clearly interested, but Katherine was already turning toward the shadow lingering in the patio corner. “You can come on out, Shade—don’t be shy,” she coaxed, warmth in her voice as she beckoned him forward.

  Shade emerged from the darkness, his fur shimmering beneath the afternoon sun and casting shifting patterns across the patio tiles as he padded forward. Isolde startled, choking slightly on a bit of scone, her eyes wide as sunlight danced in stripes along Shade’s pelt—stripes that seemed to ripple and glide with every movement.

  Katherine knelt beside Shade, scratching under his jaw. His tail swished contentedly, and a soft, rumbling purr filled the air at her touch. “That’s a good boy,” she murmured, her affection obvious.

  Isolde finally cleared her throat, still looking stunned. “That…shouldn’t be possible,” she managed. Her gaze darted around the patio, searching for answers. “The whole estate has protections against it.”

  Lira’s devilish smile flashed, a note of pride in her voice. “Oh, did I forget to mention? Katherine’s soul-bonded to Shade. I figured the protections wouldn’t matter.”

  “I see he is some kind of Dire Panter,” Roland started as he looked Shade, not getting up from his seat. “What kind is he?”

  “Spectral, he is good with shadows and moving through him, but he is only a cub. Which I think it is part of the reason he can be unpredictable at times.”

  "Part of the reason?” Roland asked, looking up at Katherine since Shade came into view. “What is the other?”

  “Scenery,” Katherine explained. “Lira can vouch for this, but entering the city he seemed to not like the city walls and close building probably making him feel closed in. However, on the same token he will gladly approach a meat vendor if he smells cooking meat.”

  “Is he really a cub?” Isolde asked, not taking her eyes off Shade.

  “According to what the system that runs this place says he is,” Katherine admits. Shade tries to protest, but Katherine gives him a light pat on the snout. “No matter how much he disagrees.”

  “But...He’s so large,” Isolde commented, glancing at Shade’s head or at least what could be seen from Isolde’s spot at the table.

  Shade lets his intrusive thoughts take over and tries to climb onto the table. He barely gets his front paws on the table before Katherine tells him to get his paws off the table before he accidentally breaks something, and reminding him that he is as small as the word ‘cub’ implies. Shade gives a chuff, but ultimately gets down before anything breaks. The teacups do shake a bit at Shade’s actions, spilling some of the tea but nothing gets broken much to Katherine’s relief as he looks to be a fully grown size.

  Roland and Isolde were letting go of the breath the were holding as Roland begins to speak. “I take it that is what you mean by unpredictable,” he asks.

  “Yeah,” Katherine confirms, letting some of her weariness show due to Shade’s antics. “It’s one thing when were in the market district. I’ve walked by and apologized to enough vendors that they know I’m trying but he is unfortunately a child. Sometimes you need to let a kid touch the stove to let them know it is hot. And it’s only been a day.”

  Shade knew the group was talking about him, and since he wasn’t allowed on the table, he decided Katherine’s lap was the next best spot to join the conversation. With little warning, he clambered up, surprising Katherine with his sudden weight.

  Katherine let out a gasp as Shade settled onto her lap. “Shade, get off me,” she managed, her voice strained from the unusual heaviness. For a moment, it felt like she had a full-grown panther weighing down on her, easily sixty pounds if not more. She struggled beneath him, startled by the abrupt shift in her comfort.

  Then, almost as quickly as the pressure appeared, it dissipated. The sensation changed—Shade’s weight seemed to fade until he felt no heavier than a napkin draped across her knees. Katherine blinked in disbelief, glancing down at the panther cub now curled up and impossibly light.

  Roland shifted his chair and caught Katherine’s eye, giving her a reassuring smile. “I take it you’ve never had a familiar before,” he said, his tone gentle. “Or at least not one with space magic?”

  Katherine shook her head, still processing the odd sensation. “No, I’ve never bonded with an animal like this. Where I’m from, animals don’t form connections with people the way Shade does here. Still, living with them changes you, even if not quite like this.”

  Isolde leaned forward, her sapphire eyes thoughtful. “Dire panthers are naturally attuned to shadows,” she explained. “But it’s the word before ‘dire’—like 'spectral'—that makes their wild cousins truly dangerous. Shade’s ability to manipulate space lets him shift his own weight. It seems he can make himself practically weightless at will.”

  Roland looked thoughtful, glancing at Shade. “Space magic is rare among familiars,” he remarked. “How did you come to bond with him?”

  Lira, who had been stifling laughter at Shade’s antics since Katherine arrived, finally spoke up. “He tried to eat her,” she said, her voice tinged with amusement and a shiver at the memory. “Katherine stared him down—and he gave in.”

  Isolde and Roland exchanged surprised glances. Katherine rubbed the back of her neck, embarrassed. “I used a skill, something like aura manipulation. I did it without thinking.”

  Roland offered a word of caution. “Shade may look fully grown to everyone here, but he’s still a cub by the standards of this place. His magical reserves are limited. You might want to find him some magic-infused items—herbs, gemstones, even enchanted foods. It’ll help him grow stronger, just like you.”

  Shade, still smarting from being called a ‘cub,’ started to protest. When Roland brought up magical treats, Shade jumped off Katherine’s lap and nudged Roland’s leg, his eyes pleading for a reward. Roland didn’t budge, and Shade sat back, giving him a long, hopeful look.

  Feeling Shade’s intentions through their bond, Katherine gave him a gentle but firm scolding. “Shade, come here,” she called. Shade hesitated, meowing as if trying to argue his case. Katherine shook her head. “No, I won’t ask him for you. Besides, begging is rude.”

  With a disappointed sigh, Shade slunk back to Katherine’s side and lay down, ears drooping. His hopes for magical treats dashed, he settled in quietly, sulking but resigned.