Otis and Otto are already on their rounds, so Gus calls him back to tell them he’s received special intelligence that he may have an unwelcome visitor tonight. While he and I wait in a secret compartment hidden in the walls of his apartment, Otto will be stationed at the door to his bedroom and Otis will wait out on the balcony, in case of any conspirators coming from the other side.

But when I hear the clock strike ten, I start to panic. I’m going to turn back into a human in an hour! A human that Gus knows! A human that he knows not to be a princess like I may have implied I am!

Why didn’t I just tell him the truth? If not about who I am, then at least what I’m not? But he’d seemed so excited at the prospect of a fairy tale princess in his bed. I bet none of those stories he loves so much are about maids in glasses. I may not know as many as he or Dinah do, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a princess with impaired vision, either.

I sneak a glance at Gus, who’s reading a book by candlelight, but keeps sneaking glances back at me and grinning like a little boy. He’s bursting with questions to ask me later, I know. What am I going to tell him?

Luckily, that’s when I hear footsteps approaching. My back arches, and Gus straightens up silently. From the other side of the wall, Otto clears his throat. “State your business.”

“Oh,” says Hector, “Otto. Hello. I was wondering why I didn’t see you on my way over.”

“I would wonder why you were wondering,” replies Otto, voice ominous.

“Yes, well,” Hector stammers.

Leander steps in heroically. “We’re here to see the King.”

“The King is indisposed,” says Otto. “Highly contagious. No visitors.”

“So fast?” says Hector, sounding convincingly concerned. “We just saw him at dinner. Will he be all right?” Ha! As if you care, Hector! You’d be happier if his “illness” took care of him for you!

There’s a brief silence, during which I imagine Otto shrugs and Hector and Leander exchange nervous glances. I’m jealous of Otto’s ability to convey everything he needs with a single gesture, or to silence his opponents with a look. I prattle when I’m nervous and fear I always end up saying the wrong thing. How much easier would it be if I could answer all of Gus’ questions to satisfaction with a simple wave of my paw?

“Well, then,” says Leander, “I suppose we should be going now. Our best wishes to the King for a speedy recovery.”

You mean you wish he’d die so you’ll be off the hook! I hate nobles.

“What shall I tell him you came for?” says Otto, and there’s another silence during which I imagine Hector and Leander are trying to concoct an entire cover story though their eyes alone.

“It was about—” Hector begins.

“A shipment—” continues Leander.

“A letter—”

“A letter about a shipment,” Leander concludes, sounding relieved. “Very important.”

“At this time of night?” says Otto.

“Very important and very urgent,” says Hector, less sure of himself with every word. “Must go out first thing in the morning. Which is why we’re here. Now. At this time of night.”

“Give me the letter,” says Otto. “I’ll see that he gets it.”

“Oh.” Panic constricts Hector’s throat, making his voice jump an octave. “Well, you see, we don’t have it. We needed his help to draft it. Which is why we’re here. Now. At this time of night.”

“So you’ve said,” says Otto.

“You know what, on second thought, the letter’s not important,” says Leander, forcing a laugh through all his hurried words. “Sorry to disturb you. Don’t tell him we were here. Bye!”

After a moment of hearing nothing, the secret entrance slides open to reveal Otto. “I don’t trust them,” he says.

Neither do I, I almost say out loud, before remembering only Gus can know. Gus and Dinah. I hope the number doesn’t grow so I don’t get too comfortable speaking out loud around people. Heaven knows if every word is extending my feline sentence.

“Maybe there really was a letter,” says Gus, though he sounds like he’s trying to convince even himself. “We don’t know what it would have been about.”

“Urgent enough to come to you when you’ve retired for the night, but not so urgent that they can scrap the thought entirely?” Otto shakes his wise, sensible, brilliant head. “No, sir, Your Majesty. I’d keep an eye on them.”

“You didn’t see any weapons on them, did you?”

“No,” Otto admits. “Might’ve had a vial of poison, smothered you with a pillow, used a letter opener from your desk, hung you with the curtains, thrown you out the window—”

“Point taken, thank you,” Gus winces. “You’ve considered all the ways to kill me in my bedroom?”

“It’s my job,” Otto says apologetically.

“You’re very good at it.” Gus blows out his candle and climbs out of the wall before reaching back in to retrieve me. “Thank you for indulging us.”

Otto nods, then goes into Gus’ bedroom to call Otis back. While they debrief each other outside the door instead of making their usual rounds (Otto tells him what Hector and Leander said; Otis tells him about some unusual nighttime birds he saw), Gus takes me back inside and closes the door. I barely have time to worry about how I’ll escape at eleven before he pounces with his insatiable curiosity, giving me something else to worry about.

“Tell me everything,” he says. And who am I to refuse the King?