A week later, Callie was unenthusiastically reading through the job listings in a racing periodical and pretending she wasn’t brooding over Anthser.

The problem was, she really liked him. A lot. A whole lot. All right, fine, maybe she loved him. They’d had a great time while he was in Gracehaven the previous week. She’d been sure he’d be too busy again for her to see him much, but no, he’d carved out time every day to visit. He was a great guy: easygoing, friendly, funny, brave, and dedicated. But he had a job and a human that meant the world to him, and that was always going to take him away from her. Maybe, if she let him, he’d make a place for her at his side. But she’d have to give up competition for that, and for what? So she could be the person he loved second-best in the world? What kind of life was that? No, there was no future for them, and she’d always known it. She’d been stupid to let herself get so attached to him that she couldn’t put him out of her head now. He’s gone, and soon you’ll be gone, and that’s just how it has to be. Be grateful for your memories and move on already.

She still hadn’t managed to take her own advice when Felicia yelled for her. “Callie! You’ve got a visitor!” Callie was still living at Lord Endonbury’s felishome until the race tomorrow and her official last day.

Callie came to the felishome parlor to find an enormous blue-grey draycat with a vaguely familiar scent. “Jill?”

“Hullo, Callie.” Jill offered her cheek and exchanged sniffs politely. “Heard you were looking for a job. Came to offer you one.”

Callie crinkled her muzzle. “A job?”

“Yup. Anywhere private we can talk?”

“Mrruh? Sure.” She led the much larger greatcat upstairs to her room. “What kind of job? The Strikers don’t need a racer, surely?”

“Nope. ’M here from the GA.” Jill sprawled on the floor, unselfconscious, and waved a paw in dismissal when Callie tried to offer the bed as a seat. “Don’t know if Anthser told you, but the GA’s hired a couple of extra greatcats to keep an eye out on behalf of Lord Nik.”

“No, he didn’t say anything,” Callie said, still perplexed by this visit.

“Good. Situation’s a little weird. Lord Nik can’t afford guards and probably wouldn’t agree to ’em if he could. So the guys we’re hiring are posing as friends who’re visiting Anthser. We’re only hiring greatcats for four weeks at a time, so they don’t get to looking like permanent residents. There’s no specific duties beyond stay alert, make sure nothing happens to Lord Nik, and don’t act like you’re an employee. Nobody’s gonna ask you to run errands or do chores. You’d report to Anthser.”

“Why?” Callie asked. “Why me? And why’s it the GA’s problem anyway?”

The blue-gray greatcat lifted her head to eye Callie. “Why do you think Anthser does this job?”

For the money, Callie almost said, but she knew Anthser wasn’t a warcat for a paycheck any more than she raced for one. Instead she said, “I know Lord Nikola does important work, and he’s very fond of him.” Fonder than he is of me.

But Jill was shaking her head. “Nope. Wanna try again?”

Callie scrunched her face. “Uhhh. Because Lord Nikola’s descended from Lord Iason?”

“Nope. Any more guesses?”

“Look, if you’ve got something you want me to know, just tell me,” Callie snapped.

Jill flared her whiskers, laughing. “Fair ’nuf. You ever hear of Throwback Syndrome?” When Callie shook her head, Jill continued, “Lucky you. It happens when greatkittens are born with wildcat traits. Wildcat mental development, mostly, but sometimes wildcat throat/mouth/paw development.”

Callie gaped, horrified. “That’s a real thing?”

“Oh yeah. It’s been happening for a while now. Nobody’s sure just how long, ’cause records are scattered and inconsistent. Most Blessed don’t keep records on the untreated or their instant cures, and what they keep on the slow cures varies depending on who it is, and you can’t get to see one’s notes without a lot of work anyway. Plus, not every parent with afflicted greatkittens seeks treatment.”

“What – why wouldn’t they seek treatment?”

Jill rolled her shoulders. “All kinds of reasons. No mindhealer within a few days’ travel. Hoping kitten’ll get better on their own. Don’t realize there’s a problem until it’s too late.”

Callie flattened her ears. “What do you mean, ‘too late’?”

“You’ve never seen an actual wildcat, have you? Lemme break it down for you. The greatcat psyche has some intrinsic qualities, like ‘you don’t hurt family’. And we classify all greatcats and all humans as our family. The wildcat psyche does not classify anyone but their little tribe – relatives, mates, maybe a few adopted members – as family. And if you’re not family and are in their territory, and they’re hungry, or scared, or mad, or whatever, they will try to kill you. And if you’re a human, they’ll succeed. Even if that wildcat is just a kitten. That’s more than big enough. So when you’ve got a greatkitten that acts like a wildcat, maybe you just think they’re slow or stupid and they grow up around you and their tribe and you think well, they may not be bright but that doesn’t mean dangerous, right? Until the day some strange human steps on your kitten’s tail by accident, and suddenly your kitten, who is three times the human’s size, disembowels them.”

Callie stared. The scenario was a bogeyman story, a legend, the kind told by ignorant humans, or by greatkittens trying to out-do each other in scary stories. “That – that doesn’t really happen.”

"That does. Really. Happen. Nobody’s died in Newlant yet, but people’ve been mauled. Overseas, yeah, humans’ve died to greatcat attacks. Unprovoked attacks. You don’t hear about it here because everybody in Newlant knows how safe greatcats are. ‘Peaceable as a greatcat’. Savior wouldn’t’ve worked through Lord Iason to make us if we were dangerous to them. Nobody gives the reports any credence. If there really was an assault, it must’ve been provoked, there had to be a good reason, or it didn’t happen at all. But the Greatcat Association’s been looking into these things, and yeah, there’s a reason for them. And that reason is Throwback Syndrome, and there’s nothing good about it.

“Now, I don’t particularly want to start a panic, and humans will panic if they start to think of this problem as real. Doesn’t matter if greatcats are a hundred times less likely to attack a human than another human is. We’re huge, we’re all around them, and if we’re a threat, we are terrifying. So the GA’s just working to fix the problem. Or rather, we’re taking care of the people who can fix the problem.”

“Lord Nikola,” Callie said. Suddenly a whole lot of things made more sense.

“Yup. Throwback Syndrome isn’t going away on its own. Far as we can tell, it’s getting worse. Can’t find any instances of it a hundred years ago. Seventy years ago, Lady Astraia started treating cases of it. Twenty years ago, she was curing about fifty cases a year. In the last twelve years, since Lord Nikola learned how to treat it, he’s cured over three thousand greatkittens of the disorder.”

Callie’s jaw dropped.

“Think about that a minute. Think about three thousand kittens whose lives he saved. Now think about how much damage three thousand wildcats could do to this country. Yeah.

“I used to work for Lady Astraia, twenty-four years ago. When Lord Nik was born and confirmed a mind-healer, I went to work for the Strikers. I hired Anthser – well, technically, the Strikers did, but it was at my instigation – when Lord Nik was thirteen. I knew he needed someone closer to his own age, someone more like a friend, to keep an eye on him. Anthser went for warcat training on a GA scholarship, contingent on him working for Lord Nik.

“None of this is because Lord Nik is a great guy, or selfless, or caring, or a sweet kid. Yeah, sure, it’s convenient that he is. But hey, I’ve been working with him all my life. I know I’m biased. Doesn’t matter. What matters are those three thousand greatkittens. What matters are all the humans who don’t have to worry about an out-of-control greatcat lashing out at them. You know what? Lord Nik could be a monster who bathed in the blood of the innocent every Ascension, and I would still take care of him. As long as he kept curing us. It is that important.”

Jill groomed flat the blue-gray fur of a forepaw while Callie stared at her, before the draycat resumed. “Fortunately, he’s not a monster, and he doesn’t need live sacrifices. What he does need is a friend, someone he can trust, who’ll support him and believe in him and watch out for him, body and soul. That’s what Anthser does. That’s why he does it. I can find Lord Nik another warcat, but I can’t find him another best friend.” Jill rubbed her damp pawpad over one ear. “So. I know you and Anthser get on fine. You’re a strong, athletic greatcat. ’Spect you can take care of yourself if need be. You need a job. It ain’t your dream job, I know. But it’ll give you a reason to hang around Anthser, if you want one. Or need one.” The big draycat got to her paws and shook out her fur. “Feel free to think it over for a couple of days. Lemme know what you decide.”

Callie scrambled to her own feet. “…all right. Did Anthser tell you to ask me?”

“Naw. Don’t worry, he’ll be thrilled if you accept.”

Callie wasn’t sure if that was what she’d been worried about or not. Her head whirled as she showed Jill out.

The bowrace the next day went better than Callie had expected. Lord Vernon shot well and kept his seat throughout, unlike two of their competitors. They took first place, as much due to errors on the part of the other teams as to anything they did. Callie almost regretted her decision to leave. Then Lord Vernon took all the credit for their performance amidst congratulations afterwards, and Callie decided she couldn’t get out fast enough. She left the course alone to go back to the felishome to finish packing. She was spending one last night there and going to a hostel in the morning. She still hadn’t decided what to do next.

She found a couriercat waiting for her in the felishome parlor, with a letter from Anthser. Callie signed the receipt with a sense of unease: what could be so urgent that he’d pay the outsized charges for a courier delivery from Fireholt, instead of using the mail? She took it up to her bedroom to read.

Dear Callie:

I’ve written this letter about twenty-five times now, which is why it’s taken me so long to send it (sorry about that). I keep trying to figure out what I’m supposed to start with, and every draft is worse than the last so I’m just gonna start with the important bits. All right?

I love you. Will you marry me?

Before you say ‘are you crazy? No’ let me make my case. First, I’m not crazy. I work for the best mind-healer in Paradise and he says I’m sane, so that’s one thing you’ll never have to worry about. Second, I know it looks like it’d be hard to make our marriage work, with you a racer and me a warcat. And I’m not gonna ask you to give up competition for me. That’d be crazy. I know these are the best years of your life for competing. I’m sure you don’t want greatkittens or to spend all your time following me from Fireholt to Gracehaven to Anverlee to wherever else Lord Nik decides to go.

But racing has an off-season, so you could spend that with me? I actually do have a lot of marks. Lord Comfrey rewarded me with a ridiculous amount of money for saving his life, so funds for travel are not a problem. Funds for anything aren’t a problem. Maybe I’m not supposed to tell you this so you won’t be tempted to marry me for my money, but I can’t imagine you marrying any greatcat just to get rich. Anyway, I’m gonna build a bowracing course near Fireholt, so you’ll have a place to practice. And you can borrow Lord Nik if you need a partner? I could build a regular racetrack here for training too, if you’ve decided to go back to racing. And set up races with a purse and everything. Probably get Fireholt to be part of the racing circuit, even. (I know it’s expensive. I’m serious! I can afford it!)

And I don’t need to spend all my time working, either. Lord Nik’s threatened to hire a warcat to replace me anyway (long story), so I could spend part of the racing season following you around. Or all of it, if you wanted.

Or we could see each other as our different schedules permit and cram all the fun into those visits. I know you’ll want to retire from sports in ten or twenty years, and we’d have the rest of our lives to spend together after that. We could start a family then. Or not! I’m flexible.

Point is, there’s a lot of ways to make this work, and I’m fine with all of them, if you’ll have me. On any terms. I just don’t want to say “well, this is maybe kind of inconvenient and not exactly what a normal marriage looks like, so better just never talk about it and let you disappear from my life”. That is crazy. I’m sure of it. I checked with Lord Nik. (Technically Lord Nik said it’s the sort of thing sane people do and it’s more “foolish” than “crazy”, but whatever. It’s BAD.) So maybe we wouldn’t be a typical greatcat couple. So what? I want a future with you. An atypical future with you would be a million times better than a typical one without you. Typical is overrated anyway.

I love you, Callie. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, or as much as we can manage. I know I’m not the only thing in your life, and I don’t want to be.

This must be the most unromantic marriage proposal ever written. Marry me and I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you?

I love you. Please marry me.

With all my heart,

Anthser

PS: If you don’t want to marry me but still want to see me occasionally then I’m absolutely going to visit you in Soudon if you go back there. So’s you know. If you actually want to get rid of me entirely you should say that too. Just to be clear.

PPS: I just realized that tomorrow is your last day at Lord Endonbury’s. Crap. I’ll send this via special courier. I hope you left a forwarding address.

It was a little after midnight in Fireholt, and Anthser should have been asleep. He hadn’t had a nap all day, and he wanted to be in the hall for Lord Nik’s petitioning hours tomorrow morning. Not that he needed to be, technically; Rawlth would be on watch in the morning, and Anthser didn’t have any official duties. Still. He liked being there in case anything happened.

But he’d sent the letter to Callie by courier yesterday. She should’ve gotten it sometime today, assuming it didn’t go astray. She probably wouldn’t send her answer back by courier, so it’d be several days before it came by post. Or more, depending on how long she spent thinking about it.

Which meant there was no use in fretting, and he ought to sleep, but all he could think about was her.

So he thought he was imagining it when he caught her scent in the air. He lifted his head and sniffed as the scent grew stronger, carrying the intense notes of hard exercise with it. His ears swiveled forward to catch the soft rustle of feline footsteps outside the felishome, and the sound of a greatcat breathing heavily. Anthser bolted from his bed and flew to the door. He stared with eyes wide to see by the dim light of stars as a weary greatcat padded up the path. White stripes glinted in dark fur as she came closer. “Callie?!?”

She raised her head, tongue lolling, and spread her whiskers for him. “Hey there, handsome. Y’know, this sure is a long way from Gracehaven.”

He charged down the path and tackled her in his enthusiasm. Anthser toppled her onto her side and hugged her with all four legs, while she laughed and clung to him in return. “How did you get here? Didn’t you have a race today? Did you get my letter?”

“I ran, yes, and yes. And also: yes.”

“You ran? In one day? It’s a hundr – wait – wait, that last yes, is that—”

“Yes.” She licked his cheek and nuzzled him. “I’ll marry you.”

Anthser roared with delight, loud enough to wake the people in the main house, and rolled onto the grass with Callie, pulling her on top of him to embrace. “You will? You’re sure?”

“Yep. Also yep.” Her whiskers rippled at his expression. “C’mon, hero, you can’t be that surprised. You didn’t think I ran all the way here to tell you ‘eh…no, thanks’, didja?”

He nuzzled her cheek, forelegs wrapped around her back and hindlegs to either side of her waist. “Maybe? What in Paradise made you run all the way here? It’s a hundred-thirty miles to Gracehaven!”

“Handsome, I run sixty miles most days just for practice. You think a hundred and thirty’s gonna stop me?”

“Well…wait, didn’t you have a race today?”

Callie let her tongue loll, and he realized she was actually panting, not just miming a human grin. Her hindpaws, resting against his stomach, were damp with sweat. “All right, a hundred and thirty miles on top of a twenty-five mile bowrace might’ve slowed me down a touch.”

He shook his head. “Why didn’t you wait until tomorrow? Also, thank you for not waiting until tomorrow.”

“I missed you.” Callie snuggled against him and groomed his neck fur. “Figured I’d made you wait too long already.”

“I didn’t think you wanted to get married,” Anthser admitted, softly. “All that ‘let’s not talk about the future’ stuff.”

Callie rested her cheek against the hollow of his throat, his deep, contented purr vibrating through her in tandem to her own. “I didn’t.”

“Mrr? What changed your mind?”

“I…guess I was jealous. Of your pet human. I thought you loved him more,” she said, quietly. “And I didn’t want to give up competition to be your wife. Didn’t occur to me that I might not have to.”

Anthser licked the top of her head. “I like Lord Nik a lot, and I like my job. But he can live without me, and I can live without him. I don’t want to give you up, not for anything.”

“Well, you don’t have to give him up either.” Callie purred in his ear. “I’ll share. Jill offered me a job as your assistant watchcat here.”

“Really? But what about racing?”

She shrugged. “I can take a month or three off from it. For my honeymoon.” She raised her head to look into his eyes, whiskers spread. “I love you. We’ll make things work, hero.”

Anthser rolled her onto her back, still hugging her, and purred in reply. “We will. We absolutely will.”