I am entirely invisible under the shadow of night. I sneak down the oak limb, as quiet as feathers. Except I would eat the feathers. Or bat them around. Mm, I like feathers.

Wait, I was looking for something. I’ve reached the castle wall, and if I stretch just a little I can put my front paws on the stone windowsill. There’s curtains pulled across, but there’s a little slit where a very clever cat (me) can peek through and watch the occupant.

It’s a young woman. Ailbe. Aha! My tail sweeps back and forth. 

She has nice hands, efficient and gentle. She is currently braiding her hair for bed, but they look like they would give good ear-rubs. I peek around the room, trying to find places she might keep smoked eel. There’s plenty of places, and look! There’s a bit of cheese, left on the plate, and—

And something catches Ailbe’s eye. She chuckles, picks up the cheese—wonderful!—crumbles it—delicious!—and sets it on the floor on the far side of the room—horrific! The cheese is not for me! The cheese is for…a mouse?!

Then everything clicks into place, and my tail sweeps faster than ever. 

If the girl is willing to give her cheese to a mouse, imagine how much better she would treat me. In fact, Conall’s whole story was about how she is generous and self-sacrificing. If she was patient with a yammering child and a wounded dog, imagine how well she would treat me. Me, a beautiful, elegant, ferocious cat.

Besides, Conall likes her, and like Conall. Kind of. Sometimes.

Furthermore, Conall really hates the sorcerer Trencoss. I can mostly live and let live, but Trencoss does get on my nerves now and then, and he never gives me smoked eel or salmon or anything. But more importantly, there is something very powerful-feeling about Conall.

And something very confident-feeling about this girl, Ailbe.

I do not care at all that she is now crying. I do not have a tender heart, oh no, not me.

Trencoss has trapped Conall as a dog, and he has trapped Ailbe in this room, so they can’t do much to act on the anger that is boiling in Conall’s heart. But if they could get free, they would make some mischief for Trencoss. And with these powerful, confident feelings—I think the two of them could make quite a lot of mischief.

Inside the room, Ailbe wipes her eyes, blows out the candle, and climbs into her bed. 

Outside the room, I lower my front paws onto the oak branch, and wash my face thoroughly. I’ve got to make a decision, so it helps to make sure my ears are very tidy. I clean every whisker and come to my conclusion, all on my own.

I like mischief.

I’m going to do it.

I trot back down the branch, away and into the night, the tip of my white tail twitching behind me. I am very clever and very sneaky…and I’m about to cause a very great deal of trouble at the Castle of a Thousand Doors. Just watch and see.

The End.... or, The Beginning

The Little White Cat and the Dog Who Wasn't

What makes a man a beast?

One is her captor. One has fur and fangs. And then there’s the cat.

The sorcerer Trencoss insists that Ailbe of Dún Allaine agreed to marry him. So he sets twenty-four black wolfhounds to keep her imprisoned in his sumptuous castle, but she cannot stop searching their faces—looking for the one dog who has been more loyal than any man she has ever known.

Then, a talking white cat leaps through the window. 

To reward Ailbe for her gift of smoked eel and cheese, he sends a handsome prince to rescue her.  But not all princes are made for quests, and this former lady-in-waiting doesn’t wait to be rescued…

Following the cat’s instructions, Ailbe strikes a bargain with Trencoss: if he can bring her three more balls of magical thread, spun from the dew on the flowers, she will marry him. 

But she still hasn’t found her own beloved companion… and once the dew dries on her wedding morning, Ailbe will be trapped in the Castle of a Thousand Doors forever.

A lyrical, lightly steamy romantasy filled with found family, talking animals, and a heroine who refuses to leave anyone behind. 

Click ‘buy now’ to curl up with your copy today!