But she only gave him a shy sideways look. “I’m getting better at people,” she said hopefully. “People with voices, anyway.”
“So I’ve heard,” Neal said warmly. “Everyone is so proud of you.”
That seemed to please her.
Tyrant gave a final, frantic squirm for freedom and Gizelle let her go. The kitten bolted away across the broad step, groomed her tail angrily, and then sauntered away as if nothing in the world was wrong. Sweet One remained in Gizelle’s arms, purring, and the gazelle shifter stroked her gently and tickled her face.
“I missed you,” Gizelle said sheepishly to her lap, but Neal knew she wasn’t talking to the cat. “I was lost for a while.”
“I was sorry to leave,” Neal said gently. “But it was time for me to go. I needed to get back out into the world, take back my life, be with my mate.”
“I know,” Gizelle said eagerly, looking up at him. “I know now! I have a mate, too. He’s so splendid and amazing. Have you met him?”
Neal smiled at her. “I liked him,” he said approvingly. “And I’m so happy for you.”
Her face unexpectedly fell. “I gave him the lock to your cage,” she said anxiously. “It was Christmas, and I hope you aren’t angry.”
“Of course not,” Neal told her swiftly. “It was yours to give.”
The relief across her face was like sunlight after a storm.
“I thought you might be mad,” she said honestly. “But it was the only thing I had.”
“It was a beautiful gift,” Neal assured her. “Conall must have appreciated it very much.”
“Yes,” Gizelle said simply. “Because I gave it to him.”
Her eyes were just as Neal had remembered, wise and full of hope, but there was less fear in them now, he thought.
To his surprise and Sweet One’s discomfort, Gizelle leaned forward then and wrapped her arms around him for a swift hug, her head for a moment on his collarbone. “I have something else to give you,” she said, releasing him almost immediately. Sweet One escaped her lap and groomed herself lazily on the step below them.
“You don’t have to give me anything,” Neal assured her.
“I do,” Gizelle said firmly. “Otherwise you will die.”
Then she gazed at him sternly, and he blinked, and she was standing up. “Chef has something delicious for dinner tonight,” she said easily, as if she had not just announced Neal’s potential death. “But no one will eat it.”
“What did you want to give me?” Neal asked, deeply confused as he stood with her. Sweet One was nowhere to be seen.
“I already did,” Gizelle said patiently.
“You said I would die,” Neal reminded her.
“But you didn’t, did you,” Gizelle pointed out.
“I... suppose not?”
Then Gizelle hugged him a second time. “Thank you for coming back,” she said softly. “I may not need you anymore, but I still missed you. You were my first friend.”
Neal carefully put his arms around her in return. “You helped me back every bit as much as I helped you,” he said gratefully, giving her a quick squeeze and releasing her. It was a far cry from the first tentative touch of her gazelle’s whiskers.
Gizelle stepped back and smiled up at him. “That’s what friends do,” she said confidently.
“Will you come to our wedding tomorrow?” Neal asked. “Did you get the invitation?”
“It had frosting you couldn’t lick,” Gizelle said eagerly. “Like sugar, but sharp.” Her face went thoughtful. “I don’t know if I came to it or not. It isn’t long now.”
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