The kitchen is already buzzing by the time I make it down. When I first arrived, I found it overwhelming, orders being shouted over the endless chatter and dishes flying in and out in a meticulously choreographed flow of constant movement. Getting used to it was a necessity, though I never thought I’d grow to like it.

But after a single day of stuffy council meetings and private libraries, I’m surprised to realize how much I’ve missed it. These are my friends—or if that’s a stretch, these are my people. This is where I belong.

“Where is she, anyway?” Judith, one of the scullery maids, says. “The quiet one.”

Are they talking about me? It’s almost as much of a surprise to hear anyone who isn’t Dinah acknowledge me as it was to hear the King mention me by name last night. I creep closer to investigate, curling up under a table to conceal myself.

“The conceited one, you mean.”

That’s Viola. She doesn’t like me any more than Alvin does, though it seems to be for the opposite reason.

“Lurina?” I recognize this voice as Eveline’s, with her slight accent. “She hasn’t been anything but kind to me.”

But of course, reports of someone being kind aren’t the kind of gossip that keeps anybody’s interest. “Did you hear the King himself asked after her by name?” says Portia. “I bet they were having an affair.”

…What?

“What?” Viola’s laughing, but she seems infuriated somehow.

“Think about it,” Portia insists. “Why else would he care?”

Judith scoffs. “And what, she abandoned him because she had so many better options? Who would be worth leaving the King over?”

Portia flutters her lashes. “Sir Gideon, for one.”

Half the girls swoon, while the others roll their eyes. I’m among the latter: Sir Gideon may be famous throughout the kingdom for his beauty, but I can’t imagine him ever picking up a book except to use it as a weapon.

“A knight over a King?” Judith shakes her head. “Even Lurina’s not that stupid.”

“A knight, she could marry,” Portia points out. “No King is going to marry a scullery maid. It’d be strategic.”

Viola smirks. “In that case, Lurina’s not that smart.”

Some of the girls laugh, though I notice Eveline doesn’t, and feel a little heartened. I don’t need to be popular, but it’s nice to know someone’s on my side.

Still, their gossip hurts to listen to, and I don’t think I can take much more of it. I slink away, weaving between stacks of pots and pans, and make my way to the back exit. The door opens out into a yard, where Dinah spends all her spare time tending to the cats. Usually it’s the happiest I ever see her, but today, she looks despondent. It’s only when I get closer that I realize she’s talking about me, too.

“I just don’t know where Lurina could be, Thomas,” she tells a scraggly looking ginger eating scraps of meat from her palm.

Meat! I realize I haven’t eaten breakfast yet. Dinah will undoubtedly feed me, too. This time, I’m less careful about making my approach.

“I swear I thought I heard her in her room this morning,” she continues, stroking his matted fur like it’s the finest silk. “She sounded like she was in trouble. But she wasn’t there. I must be going out of my mind.”

Guilt envelops my insides. Maybe if I’d stayed, she’d—no. There would be no explaining a human scream coming from a cat. Someday, I’ll tell you everything, I promise her silently. For now, I place my front paws on her lap, hoping she feels the reassurance I’m trying to convey.

That, and understands the request to feed me, too. I can’t help it, I’m an animal. I’m completely controlled by my stomach.

“Hello there,” says Dinah, perking up a bit. “Who are you? You’re new, aren’t you?”

I give her my best meow, and she pours me a bit of water from a pitcher nearby, placing the bowl next to the plate of scraps. Bless you, Dinah! I feed gratefully, and she pets me as if we’re long lost friends.

If only she knew. If only I could tell her. If only the kitchen door wasn’t wide open, the other maids dangerously near. They don’t pay much mind to Dinah when she’s out here, but still, what if someone heard us speaking? I can’t risk it.

Maybe I can draw her away somehow, farther from the door, or convince her to follow me into her room. Under normal circumstances, Dinah is the one I’d ask for help solving any problem. Even in the most unfathomable situation, like sometimes being a cat, I just know Dinah would have the right advice—if not step by step instructions on breaking the curse, at least she’d know what to say to make me feel better about my current state.

Have you ever had a better night’s sleep in your life than in the King’s bed? she’d ask.

Considering I woke myself up last night turning back into a human and had to leap off a balcony to escape, I’d reply, yes. But I see your point.

“Princess!”

Both Dinah and I turn to see Eveline, waving at me from the door despite her arms full of dirty dishes. “How'd you get out here?”

Dinah looks back at me. “Princess, you say?”

“His Majesty’s new pet,” says Eveline. “Alvin found her yesterday morning. He tried to have her killed before the King intervened, can you believe it?”

“As a matter of fact, I can.”

Eveline laughs and goes back to work, but Dinah hasn’t taken her eyes off me. It’s a minor comfort that she looks at her beloved cats with all the kindness and understanding that she’d give to me. No wonder they love her—though the food helps, I’m sure.

“I think the King will be missing you,” she says, scratching my ears almost the same way he does. I doubt he even remembers I’m not there, lost in those books of his, but the heightened activity in the kitchen tells me it must almost be lunchtime. He can’t miss another meal. What good is a King who faints dead away in the middle of a council meeting?

I nuzzle against Dinah’s hand one last time, silently promising to return, then make my way back to the King’s wing. I try his bedroom first. The door’s closed, but there’s silence behind it. The study? The door’s open, revealing the morning correspondence lying on his desk, untouched. Must be in the library, then.

Sure enough, the King is scanning the shelves, a stack of four volumes already in his arms. I meow to announce my entrance.

“Princess!” He sets the books down carefully, getting to his knees to pick me up. “Did you have a good morning?”

Surely if he’s aware that morning is over, he must know that next comes lunch. But he seems more interested in stroking my fur, which I do have to admit looks divine. Come on, I plead, look over at the clock. Not at me. Over there. A little to your left. What if I...?

Taking care to avoid my claws, I reach up and bat at his face with my paw. He laughs at first, thinking I’m playing, but finally I’m able to get him to turn his head just enough to catch sight of the giant, unmissable grandfather clock. The King had it silenced so the chiming wouldn’t distract him from his studies, though I think that defeats its purpose.

“Is that the time already?” He looks out the window at the sky, as if the sun is a better gauge. I gather he finds the sky convincing, because he says, “Come on, Princess. Time to eat.”

Success!