Most cats had nine lives, but he had ten. The tenth wasn’t his. It belonged to the mage who’d granted his lives. He got a bit greedy in the end.
She won his heart with her rainy dazzle. She made sadness glamorous. He bathed in her diamond rain. There was no need for an umbrella.
She never got over it. The despair dug into her bones. There was no funeral to cry at, no graveside to mourn by. She carried it silently, from the moment she ordered the massacre. She was the only one who mourned the death of the person she used to be.