Tristan drummed his fingers against his forearm as he gazed upon the Shulan Arch Tower. The pagoda was so much more imposing than he remembered. Spirals and waves of black and gold intermingled with hints of red. The sun itself seemed enamored by the tower, as the gold finishes gave much of the tower the appearance of gold foil. As if to say, “Marvel at my majesty.”

  “Shall we go inside?” Destiny asked, breaking Tristan free of his trance.

  Tristan smiled, nodded, then led his Party up to the doors of the Arch Tower. Blessedly enough, the catgirls who were on duty during their last visit saw fit to allow them entry without the fuss. Tristan wanted to believe that he’d made it into their good graces, considering the conversations that followed with Emberlynn, but as he looked over his shoulder, he caught one of them glaring back at him.

  What do we need to do to ease this animosity? He added it to the ever-growing list of duties on his mental checklist.

  Emberlynn—and to a certain extent, Ravyn—had made it quite clear that if he were to make any changes in Nyarlea, then the first ones would have to come from within himself. Men were expected to take charge, propagate their islands, and ensure the livelihood of future generations to come.

  A man like Cailu was generally more well-received. He would have his fair share of detractors, but so long as he continued to bring forth favorable results, the din of the naysayers was always brought low. The sheer number of women who spoke highly of him was staggering, and he couldn’t walk two steps within Shulan’s walls without the presence of a pregnant catgirl.

  Matt, on the other hand, may as well have been Cailu’s polar opposite. There was hardly a second he didn’t butt heads with Cailu, and despite Cailu’s sharp tongue, Matt often held his ground, prioritizing the safety and stability of the girls over his own. He bore many of the hallmark traits of a hero as well—masculine, assertive, selfless—and bolstered them with a brave determination.

  Compared to Cailu and Matt, Tristan felt…lacking.. He viewed his personality traits like Stats on a radar graph. He likened his courage, intelligence, and charm—to name a few—to lines on the graph, starting at the center and working their way toward the end to indicate how experienced he was. He imagined courage as one of his lesser stats, barely past the first rank. If he wanted to take Emberlynn’s and Ravyn’s advice to heart, then he would need to be bolder, and to not only speak with conviction but walk with it as well.

  It was for this reason that he made sure to stand at the front of his Party whenever there were more eyes on them. He rarely applied the ‘fake it until you make it’ phrase to any portion of his life, but he figured now was as good a time to try it as any. Now, more than ever, there were others depending on him, and not only did he wish for the betterment of catgirl life, but for Matt and Cailu to look at him as a fellow man they could depend on.

  Though it would have been nice if Cailu had saddled me with a more beginner-friendly Quest.

  “Tristan, wait!” Destiny’s voice broke through his thoughts once more as she grabbed him by his shoulder and tugged him back. He’d nearly run into the elevator doors.

  Tristan shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

  Destiny frowned. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright? You’ve had that scrunched-up expression on your face ever since we woke up.”

  “Should we come back later?” Lara asked. “We could tuck you in for a nap until then.”

  Yanni was completely silent, though her gaze remained fixated on him the entire time.

  “I’m fine, really. Just thinking a lot is all,” Tristan said, flashing a smile.

  Destiny returned the gesture. “If you say so. But please rely on us. Rely on me.” Her smile widened, and Tristan’s heart skipped a beat.

  “I will. Thank you. Let’s get inside.”

  As soon as the doors closed, Tristan felt another wave of anxiety sweep over him. This time it was quicker to take hold, and he found himself spending more of his time creating counterarguments to a conversation that had yet to occur.

  When the elevator came to a stop, Tristan pointed down the hall to his right. “I believe it was this way.” He took the lead, and Destiny scurried up to walk beside him. They came to a fork in the path, and Tristan pointed to the left, toward a door at the end of the hall.

  Lanterns cast red and gold lights down the halls, guiding their path. Guards stationed at the occasional corner cocked their brows and glared suspiciously. Tristan was relieved when they came to Melody’s door. “This is it.”

  Decorative ropes framed a plaque with golden bells and Melody’s name etched into the metal. Tristan brushed his sweaty palms over his pants, then knocked on the door.

  “Coming!” Melody’s familiar voice called from the other side. Tristan glanced at the girls, and Destiny placed a reassuring hand against his back. As soon as the door opened, Melody’s face fell. “You three, and… I’m sorry, I don’t think I’ve met you before.” She frowned at Yanni.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  “My name is Yanni.” She bowed at the waist, slow and practiced, then cupped one hand over the other. “I am a handmaiden in the service of Mistress Emberlynn.”

  Melody blinked. “Ah. Mistress Emberlynn.” Her eyes darted between Yanni and Tristan. “Is there something I can do for you?”

  “I wanted to speak with you once more regarding the nature of San Island’s funds,” Tristan said. “Can we talk?”

  “I must apologize. You’ve caught me at a bad time. Perhaps we could reschedule a meeting?”

  Tristan teetered between whether he should push for an audience immediately or respect Melody’s time. He leaned toward the former, however, seeing as there was no one in her room and not a sheet of paper, nor a book, nor a quill were accounted for. If she was speaking the truth, then it came conveniently after he knocked on her door.

  “I’m sorry, but under Cailu Raloquen’s orders, I must insist that we speak. I promise not to take up too much of your time.” Was that too bold? Too disrespectful?

  Melody pursed her lips. “Very well. Please, come in.”

  “I shall remain here,” Lara said to Tristan.

  “We’ll talk soon.” Tristan smiled, then led Destiny and Yanni into the room.

  Yanni closed the door behind her, her attention glued to Melody. Melody flicked her long blonde hair over one shoulder and took a seat on the edge of her desk. She wore the same silk dress as she had before, dyed a brilliant scarlet with slits that ended high on her thighs. She lifted one leg over the other and leaned on her palms, resting her tail over her lap.

  “Alright. What does this concern?” Melody asked.

  “Being Cailu’s treasurer, I would like to discuss the redistribution of Shulan’s Bells,” Tristan said.

  Melody raised her brow. “Am I to understand you’ve come forward with a plan, then?”

  He nodded. “Yes. All I ask is that you keep an open mind.” Melody nodded again and gestured for him to continue. “After I had some time to peruse your book, I came to understand that I wasn’t seeing the entire picture. I left to speak with Emberlynn, and she and I agreed that something must be done to better San Island.”

  “Is that why this woman is here?” she asked, her gaze flickering in Yanni’s direction.

  “Yes.” Tristan gestured to Yanni. “Yanni, if you would, please?”

  Yanni was quiet. Too quiet. For several seconds, he stood there while she nodded and hummed to herself. When Tristan opened his mouth to question what she was doing, she responded with, “My name is Yanni, and as I said before, I am in the service of Mistress Emberlynn. I was present during Tristan’s stay at the Emberlynn estate. I am here as her mouthpiece, and I can confirm that what Tristan says is true.”

  “If there’s any more doubt”—Tristan procured the letter Emberlynn penned and extended it toward Melody—“then this is a written letter by Emberlynn herself.”

  Melody frowned as she took the scroll and unfurled it. Her eyes scanned over the document for a few seconds before she rolled it up and handed it back. Tristan took the scroll and returned it to its spot in the pack.

  “Then am I to understand that the esteemed Emberlynn sees fault in our expenditures?” Melody asked, the tone of her voice descending to a near hiss.

  She didn’t like that at all. Emberlynn really does hold sway. “Try to see it as less of a fault and more as an opportunity to earn more.” Wait a second. Truth be told, he was winging every word that came out of his mouth. But as far as he knew, San Island wanted to be the most profitable place in all of Nyarlea. If he framed this discussion as a chance to earn more, then…

  “Earn more?” Melody scoffed. The chipper tone she displayed in their prior conversation was disappearing more with each word that spilled out of her mouth. “Every day is unpredictable. Cailu’s funds, as proliferant as they may be, are finite. Some days are better than others.” Her ears bent forward, and she shook her head. “If you think it can be done, then tell me how. Work that silver tongue, boy.”

  Tristan swallowed against a budding lump in his throat. “The kittens are suffering.” He began to pace the room, his hands held firmly behind his back. “I don’t have to tell you that they’re our future. Without them, everyone suffers. The number of catgirls available to do the duties no one wants to, like taking a job as a nyanny, will continue to drop with time. If we aren’t able to curb the issue, then San Island will steadily fall into disarray.” He stopped to look directly into Melody’s golden stare. “Some might argue it already has.”

  Melody rolled her eyes. “Words of the lazy.”

  “You believe that those who take issue with kittens pickpocketing the civilians of Shulan to feed themselves are the words of the lazy?”

  “That is not what I said,” she snapped. “You would do well not to put words in my mouth.” She pushed away from the desk, and Tristan fought down a grimace. His emotions had taken hold of his tongue. He had to be more careful. Firm, but careful. “Say what you will, but any catgirl with the guts and know-how can make a living on San Island. For every kitten who dies in the alley, there are four more who will rise above their squalor and become a catgirl deserving of San Island’s respect.”

  “What if all kittens could have that potential?” He raised one finger. “And what if I told you it could be done in a way that would ease the animosity between San Island and Shi Island?”

  Melody’s glare turned incredulous, and then she laughed. “Saoirse has a sick sense of humor, sending you. The rivalry between our islands is older than you are, boy. No one can mend that. There’s too much blood between us. I’d sooner trust you to handle the Defiled threat.”

  “If I may?” Yanni asked as she raised her hand. Tristan nodded his assent, and she took two steps forward to stand beside him. “Before you are three members of Shi Island, one of whom is the man who governs said island. Beside him are two of his loyal Shi Island companions, both of who wish to see the islands’ animosities brought to an end.” She splayed a hand across her chest. “Lastly is a catgirl from Zhuli, mouthpiece of Emberlynn, who is compliant with the ideals of Tristan’s plan. Does that not speak volumes?”

  Yanni’s words froze everyone’s tongues. Melody took her time in gauging Tristan, scanning Destiny, glaring at Yanni, glancing at the floor. She tapped her elbow, slowly looked up, then tilted her head to one side.

  “I will listen to your proposition on one condition.” Melody extended her forefinger to emphasize the point.

  “Name it,” Tristan said.

  A gentle hue of pink colored Melody’s cheeks. “Provide me with a daughter.”

  A smile slowly tugged at the corner of Tristan’s mouth. “Now that I can do.”

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