Brandon saw nothing but the lynx’s mottled fur. His voice rose, more urgent this time. "Give it to me!"

  At the Duke’s signal, the knight gently pced the lynx on the ground beside him. But disappointment was already seeping into Brandon’s chest. The moment the knight lifted the animal from the saddle, he had known. It was too rge. It could never be the same cat from his memories. The bitter voice in his mind whispered, "Of course, it’s not."

  The weight of his disappointment was palpable, pressing into the air around him. The Duchess wrapped her arms around him, holding him close, but something caught his eye. A flicker of movement. The lynx’s nose twitched faintly.

  Brandon pushed away from his mother and crouched beside it, hesitantly pcing a small hand on its belly, searching for something—anything. It wasn’t a dream. It was alive.

  "Water!" he shouted.

  "Get water!" the Duke ordered immediately.

  A basin was rushed to his side. Brandon ran his hand over the lynx’s ribs before looking up. "She’s going to be a mother."

  The revetion hushed the courtyard. The lynx's breathing grew more pronounced. The Duke and the knight knelt beside Brandon, watching closely. Not just out of concern for the animal but to ensure it would not sh out in its pain.

  The Duke rested a hand on Brandon’s shoulder. "She will live."

  "No," Brandon murmured, not taking his eyes off the lynx. "She’s getting lighter."

  A brief gnce between the Duke and the knight betrayed their uncertainty.

  The lynx’s eyes fluttered open, but she did not struggle. Perhaps she was too weak. Brandon dipped his fingers in the water and brought it to her lips. Her rough tongue flicked against his hand, the barbs catching his skin in a sensation so achingly familiar that something within him cracked.

  This was real. This world was real.

  He had seen this gaze before—the quiet brilliance of life, burning for one st moment.

  By evening, the tortoiseshell lynx was gone. But before she passed, she birthed three kittens. Two were stillborn. Brandon carried the sole survivor to his chamber.

  At dinner that night, Brandon spoke again. "I need milk."

  The room stilled. A child who had been silent for years could ask for anything and receive it. A bottle was prepared, pced carefully beside him.

  No one believed the kitten would survive, yet it became the focus of the Duke and Duchess’ quiet devotion. They checked in secret, ensuring that, if needed, they could repce it.

  Four weeks ter, Brandon entered the dining hall, a small, wobbling bck kitten trailing behind him.

  Relief rippled through the Duke and Duchess. The kitten had survived.

  Brandon dragged a chair beside his own, then gently pced the kitten onto it.

  "You should name it," the Duchess suggested.

  Brandon’s answer was immediate. "Mittens."

  His siblings balked.

  "It’s bck! You can’t name it Mittens!" Lillian protested.

  "It needs a strong name!" Adam insisted.

  Edgar nodded. "Yes!"

  Brandon remained silent. "Mittens."

  The Duchess, with an air of finality, smiled. "Mittens it is."

  And at her decree, the kitten became part of their family.