“I only have an hour,” I protest as Dinah tugs me out of the safety of her room. And there isn’t much left of the hour, since I’ve spent most of it crying in her arms after my confession.

“Then we’ll have to be quick,” she says with a conspiratorial wink. “Come, everyone else will be asleep by now. Asleep, or have better things to do than see what old Dinah’s up to in the kitchen.”

I have to admit, the kitchen does sound tempting. The little scraps of meat and cheese I have at mealtimes are enough to keep me alive, if not satisfied, but now that I’m reminded I’m a fully grown human after all, I’m suddenly starving.

As expected, no one’s in the kitchen when we arrive. Every surface is sparkling clean, every pot and pan scrubbed and put back shining. When I’m done eating, I likely won’t have much time left with my opposable thumbs, meaning Dinah will have to stay up even later cleaning up again. But when I try to help her cook, she shoos me away.

“Nothing fancy,” she says, chopping some vegetables for the boiling pot. “Just something warm to help you sleep.” Dinah could boil water and you’d swear it’s the heartiest stew you’ve ever tasted. Even after years of clumsily trying to follow after her, I don’t know how she does it. What’s her secret?

More pressing than her cooking prowess, however, is the secret that holds me in this predicament. “You read about magic all the time,” I say, “or at least you know all the stories. Have you ever heard of anything like this happening? In real life, I mean.”

”Of magic? In this world?”

“I know it sounds stupid.”

“No, no,” she says dreamily. Of course Dinah wouldn’t think it stupid. I bet there’s nothing she’d love more for all her fairy tales to come true. “It sounds marvelous. Just think, instead of this ladle, I’d have a magic wand.”

“That ladle may as well be a wand,” I point out, already salivating as an alluring scent fills the room. “What do you need magic for, anyway? You can already do magical things. Me, I get stuck as a cat.”

Dinah just laughs as she fills up a bowl, placing it before me with a generously proportioned spoon. I lean in to take a deep breath, and my glasses immediately fog up. It’s like I’m in the middle of a delicious cloud. “Dinah, you’re an angel.”

“Eat up while you can.”

There’s so much more I want to say to her, so many questions I have left. But my stomach wins, and soon my mouth is too full for anything at all.

It’s a miracle that I finish eating just as the clock strikes midnight. Maybe that’s my special brand of magic—impeccable timing. Then again, judging by everything else that’s happened this week, maybe that’s not it.

“Can I come see you again tomorrow?” I ask, now back in full cat mode, as I hop off the chair. “It doesn’t have to be every night. I don’t want to be keeping you up all the time—or risk being seen, for that matter. But I’ve missed you so much.” I curl myself around her ankle, wishing I’d hugged her one last time while I could.

I know how much it hurts her poor knees, but she bends down to stroke me anyway. “Of course, my dear.”

Burden lightened and belly full, I make my way back to my own bed, and that’s when all my forgotten questions come flooding back. As grateful as I am to spend time with Dinah as a human again—as relieved as I am to finally tell her the truth—I have to admit that I was hoping for something more reassuring from our time together. Not that I was expecting her to know how to break this curse, necessarily, but...

We’ll figure it out? That’s it? And why was she not more shocked by what I told her? How could she be so ready to believe me? Is Dinah also a cat woman? Was the water supply in our village cursed for some reason? Is this why the stray cats in the yard love her so dearly? Or does she not believe me and think I’ve gone off the edge? Is she just humoring me to keep me calm?

No, it can’t be, she saw me change back into a cat—that is, if I did change back into a cat. What if I’ve been imagining it all this time? What if I’m imagining it still, and all she saw was me going from standing as a human to crawling on all fours as a cat? Did her “figuring it out” refer to how to transport me to a facility without anyone finding out? And why, oh why am I so easily distracted by things like food and shiny objects?

Is it the cat in me, I wonder? That figures. After all, I’m still a cat most of the day, the one person who knows my secret won’t be of any help to me, and whatever glimmer of hope I initially felt at turning back into a human for an hour every day now feels like a cruel taunt. Perhaps if I were a cat full time, I’d grow used to it eventually, even forget that I was ever human.

No, that can’t be true. I don’t want it to be. I don’t want to give up. There has to be a reason I turned into a cat in the first place, and that must mean there has to be a way to reverse it. I just need more time. Unfortunately, with only an hour a day to spend with opposable thumbs, there isn’t much research I can get done myself. Dinah may love fairy tales as much as the King, but it isn’t as if she has the leisure time to peruse his private library.

The King. I almost feel ungrateful for not enjoying this more. He’s been so kind, so generous, so doting. If I were really a cat, this would be the best my life could get. In fact, this is more than I could hope for as a human. Living in the castle under the care of a King who tends to my every need and whim—it’s the way every fairytale ends. What am I so eager to get back to? A lifetime of servitude?

Yes. If it’s my own life, yes. A break is nice once in a while, but already, I’m bored with nothing to do all day but stare at the clock and await my next meal. Even all the toys and amusements the King bought me have lost their shine after a day. (Not literally—the gold still glistens, the silk still shimmers. Still, none of it comforts me.)

Any way I look at it, my existence feels like a trap. As a human, I’ll struggle. As a cat, I’ll…be a cat. As someone caught in a mystery that refuses to be unraveled either way, I’ll drive myself to despair. What am I going to do?

Suddenly I hear a noise, and flatten myself against a wall to shroud myself in the shadows. What if Alvin finds me alone and takes the opportunity to permanently rid himself of the King’s obnoxious new pet?

But all I see is Duke Edgar, trying his best to stifle what sounds like an inebriated giggle as he slips into one of the maids’ rooms. I don’t even know whose, and I don’t want to—I’m too busy being appalled by the hypocrisy. He spent all day feigning scandal at the prospect of a maid having an affair with one of her “betters,” when he’s doing the very same?

I shouldn’t be surprised by this, and I’m not—not exactly. I’ve always known that such things were commonplace here. But it’s different when my name is being tarnished over an affair I’m not even having. I’m reminded that I can’t trust anyone. And despite my reunion with Dinah just moments before, I’ve never felt so alone.