41.
Philomel was on the verge of pressing him for an explanation when a rhythmic tapping broke the silence.
Knock, knock.
Countess Deles’s voice followed from behind the door. “Princess Philomel, are you inside? We have returned.”
Oh, no.
Philomel whipped her head toward Leguin. His attire looked nothing like the uniform of a court mage; it was far too suspicious. If anyone were to spot an unidentified man skulking in the Inner Palace—the sacred, restricted residence of the royals—the panic would be absolute.
“Hide! No, wait—turn back into a cat!”
“All right, all right. Stop shoving.”
Leguin grumbled as Philomel pushed him toward the terrace, snapping his fingers in annoyance. The moment he vanished into the form of a cat, the door swung open.
“Oh my, you were inside. I didn’t hear a reply, so I assumed you had gone out and not yet returned.”
“Haha, is that so? I must have been lost in my own thoughts.”
Philomel noticed a maid tilting her head, her gaze lingering on a cushion that had been knocked askew.
“But why did you all go out together?” she asked, quickly pivoting to a new topic. The atmosphere in the room plummeted.
“Well, actually….”
Before Countess Deles could finish, the maid, Nancy, surged forward and collapsed to her knees.
“Your Highness! I beg you. Please, save the others!”
Nancy was sobbing, her eyes raw and swollen as if she had been weeping for hours.
“Now, now, you’re upsetting the Princess….”
“*Sob*, but if things continue like this, they’ll all be killed.”
Nancy was typically clumsy and a bit dim-witted, but she wasn’t the type to cause a scene without cause. Philomel felt a chill, realizing they were hiding something dire.
“Tell me exactly what is going on.” She addressed the Countess, her voice sharpening into the practiced, regal tone of a princess.
* * *
“So, you mean that out of all the attendants who served me, everyone except for those of you here has been thrown into prison?”
“Yes, Your Highness. They are being interrogated. It has already been over a week.”
As Nancy sniffled, a fellow maid handed her a handkerchief, though her own hands trembled with anxiety. The story was simple and cruel: immediately after Philomel’s disappearance, the entire staff had been rounded up for failing in their duty.
Countess Deles alone had been spared, having earned a reprieve by being the first to report the Princess missing. The three maids present had remained behind to guard the Inner Palace instead of traveling to the villa, which had inadvertently kept them out of the dungeons. They had been out earlier only to scramble for news of their detained colleagues.
“I never imagined….”
The weight of their suffering pressed down on Philomel. If she had been the true Princess, such punishment for losing the royal charge might have been standard protocol. But she was a fake—everyone knew it—and yet the punishment had been carried out with ruthless efficiency. She had expected a few rounds of questioning, nothing more.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Philomel asked, her voice soft.
Countess Deles looked pained. “My apologies. You arrived so late yesterday, and we intended to inform you today, but an unexpected incident occurred….”
An unexpected incident? Philomel thought of the commotion the Nanny had caused that morning. She had gone from that to Ellensia’s quarters and then directly to see Katherine. There had been no opening for the Countess to speak.
Philomel offered a reassuring smile. “Since this happened because of me, I will take care of it. Please, don’t worry anymore.”
“Your Highness, thank you!” the maids chorused.
She felt a sudden surge of gratitude that she hadn’t left with Leguin earlier. Had she fled, she never would have known the disaster her actions had wrought.
Suddenly, Nancy checked the clock and shrieked. “The time! Oh, I am so sorry—I must bring your lunch immediately!”
A short while later, they returned with a meal. As Philomel ate the health-restoring soup, she turned the problem over in her mind. Should she ask Leguin to help break them out?
No. That would only turn them into fugitives, and the Empire’s wrath would be impossible to evade. Her only real option was to secure a pardon from the Emperor. Perhaps if she accepted the three-month condition Eustis had proposed, she could leverage it.
*Three months is still so long,* she thought. *Could I haggle for three weeks? Three days?*
She was lost in these calculations when Nancy’s voice cut through her thoughts.
“Hey, Kitty. You need to eat, too. You can’t skip lunch!”
Nancy set a bowl of fresh raw fish before the cat, but Leguin didn’t even glance at it.
“Why is he like this? He’s so cute, but such a picky eater,” Nancy muttered, stroking the cat’s neck.
*Ah, he’s still here.*
Philomel sighed. “Nancy.”
“Yes, Your Highness?”
“It would be best not to touch that cat from now on. Can you do that for me?”
“Oh, my apologies! He was so cute that I touched him without thinking. How dare I touch the cat cherished by Her Highness! I will never do it again!” Nancy’s face drained of color as she backed away, bowing profusely before hurrying out.
“Oh, no, there’s no need to go that far….”
Philomel murmured to the empty air. She had only wanted to prevent the awkwardness of a maid petting a mysterious, adult man without knowing it, but it seemed she had been misunderstood as a finicky, possessive noble.
“Meow.”
The cat trotted to her feet and mewed. His nonchalance grated on her, but she couldn’t let him starve. She took a sandwich from her own plate, placed it on a dish, and set it on the floor.
*Cats shouldn’t have human food, but he’s hardly a cat.*
Leguin sniffed at the offering before beginning to eat. Watching him, she felt a wave of bewilderment. He was a full-grown human inside—didn’t he find eating like a beast degrading?
The thought of her luggage being recovered also stirred in her mind. At least that wouldn’t be discarded.
Just then, the door opened. Countess Deles re-entered.
“Your Highness, I apologize for interrupting, but you have a guest.”
“A guest?”
Her return wasn’t public knowledge yet. Who could it possibly be?
The answer stood right behind the Countess.
“Your Highness.”
“……Nasar.”
Nasar Abridon stood there, looking exactly as he had the last time they met.