I don’t think of Hector and Leander again until after dinner, when I’m following Gus back to his room. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot them walking down a different corridor, away from the direction of their chambers. Suddenly I remember their whispers about tonight.

What “has to be tonight”? Don’t think who won’t? Am I being paranoid? Is this another cat thing, being untrusting and unkind? Then again, it’s Hector and Leander. The more time I spend around nobles, the more I’m inclined to think I’m being just the right amount of trusting.

Gus is deep in conversation with Alvin, so I take the opportunity to slip away and follow after the Duke and the Count. It sounds like the title of one of Gus’ beloved stories, but I get the gnawing feeling that this story doesn’t have a happily ever after—at least not for the King. Although no one should be surprised to see the royal pet wandering about the castle, I remain a safe distance away from my quarries, shielded by the shadows. My presence might make them think Gus is near and fall silent. Worse yet, if they’re planning on harming him somehow, who’s to say they won’t want to do away with his little cat, too?

But that does mean I can’t hear as much as I’d like, no matter how I strain my little cat ears. They look like they’re arguing, all angled brows and flared nostrils and hands frozen midair as if barely restrained from choking each other. I wish I could read lips. Why don’t cats have any useful skills?

Luckily, Hector says something that incenses Leander enough for him to audibly blurt, “If you want to be the one to risk his wrath, be my guest. You of all people know what he’s like.”

Who is “he”? It can’t be Gus. I know the King must project a certain image at all times, but I’ve seen Gus at his most private and unguarded and I can’t imagine him being angry enough to worry people like Hector and Leander, people who seem to have never worried about anything in their lives. The King is power itself, yes, but is Gus petty enough to wield that power as a weapon for whatever infraction they’ve committed? Short of someone attacking unarmed civilians, what would invoke his wrath?

“Really, Leander?” Hector retorts. “You’d let me take the fall? This was your idea, don’t forget.”

“Don’t you ever say that again,” Leander hisses, and they’re back to heated whispers and aborted gestures. Unable to restrain my curiosity, I creep closer, and that’s when I hear it:

“The King is an early sleeper,” says Hector. “Time is of the essence. We must move quickly.”

A part of me—the same part that was convinced I must be having a vividly bad dream instead of actually turning into a cat—is looking for another explanation, no matter how clear their intentions are becoming. I don’t want to believe this is happening. I don’t want to think of Gus getting hurt. I don’t even want Hector and Leander to be worse than I imagined. Pretentious nobles are one thing, but murderers? Being annoying doesn’t make you evil.

“Shame,” says Leander. “I’ve always liked him.”

“No, you didn’t,” Hector replies. Just as I’ve always suspected! Does that mean I’m right about everything else as well?

There’s no time to wallow in my usual reluctance to decide. Something unspeakable is going to happen, it involves the King, and it has to be tonight. I watch Hector and Leander continue to conspire as they make their way farther down the corridor, waiting just long enough to ensure they won’t see me run away.

What time is it? Just after dinner. It’s still hours to eleven, and Gus will be going to bed soon. I could wake him from his sleep, but that’s assuming Hector and Leander won’t find him first. And even then, how can I explain the missing maid’s sudden reappearance? In his heavily guarded bedroom, no less? I could tell Otis and Otto, who might not recognize me—but then, it’s their job to know everyone in the castle, whether we’ve ever spoken or not.

Dinah! I could tell Dinah. But she’ll still be in the kitchen with the others, washing up after dinner. Only then are the maids allowed to eat, and there’ll be more dishes after that. Even if I wait to get her alone to speak to her, won’t the others find it strange that the King’s cat is leading her somewhere?

Maybe not. It’s Dinah, after all. But what if someone follows after her? Dear Eveline, as much as I’ve come to adore her, would insist on following to feed me more scraps from her own plate, and there’d be no sensible reason Dinah could give for her not to.

There’s only one thing I can do. It’s going to ruin everything, but I have to. To save the King.

To save Gus.

Otis and Otto are already on their rounds when I return to the King’s private wing. I scratch at his bedroom door until he lets me in.

“Princess?” Gus smiles and sinks to his knees. “Couldn’t sleep without me, huh?”

I duck past him and dart inside, making sure Alvin isn’t there. Gus stands and shuts the door after me, preparing to say something else.

But once I’m sure we’re alone, I leap onto his bed and blurt out, “They’re trying to kill you!”