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the Dearly Departed .”
    â€œYes, well, that was different. When I met Lord Lancastyr, I could tell he was beginning to wander in his wits. I needed to move quickly if I was to snare him.”
    I felt my fur prickle at this cold-blooded admission that Wilhemina had never loved Rose’s unfortunate father. Even my mother gave a twitter of surprise.
    But the self-centered Eustacia did not seem to register Wilhemina’s perfidy. “Never mind that,” she said. “I’ve something more pressing to ask. Why did I hear you tell my stepfather that Cinderella will go to meet the prince with the rest of us?”
    Her mother raised one thin shoulder in an elaborate shrug. “He saw the invitation with the spoilt wench’s name included, and asked me about it. Since he was having a lucid moment, I dared not upset him.” Then she stood up. “Besides, Daughter, you really ought to stop looking upon Cinderella as a rival. Have you not noticed she has become far less beautiful lately? Her skin has grown rough. Her eyes have purple shadows under them.”
    â€œThat’s not sufficient to make her ugly enough to discourage the prince if he saw her,” Eustacia groused.
    My mother squeezed closer to the viewing slot. “Ugly enough?” she echoed in anger. “How dare she speak thus of the rat-candidate for queen?”
    â€œSssh.” I nudged her with my nose, though I felt the same rising fury myself.
    Wilhemina spoke again. “Now, where has Jessamyn gone? It’s almost time for luncheon.” She turned and looked around as if Jessamyn might somehow have been in the room with them all along. “I declare, I quite despair of your sister sometimes. She disappears often, and I find her ensconced in odd corners of the house … reading books. ”
    â€œReading!” Eustacia gasped. “How strange! That’s what Cinderella used to do, before you put her to work.”
    Wilhemina picked up a swan’s-down powder puff from the vanity table and lightly plied it over her cleavage. “Yes, well, I put a stop to that, didn’t I? Idle hands are the devil’s tools.”
    Swiss and I exchanged glances.
    Eustacia suddenly sat up straight. “Hold on a moment, Mamma. How do you plan to keep Cinderella home from the ball? What if my stepfather remembers and demands she attend?”
    Wilhemina gave one of her frigid smiles in response. “Why, the poor, sweet girl hasn’t a thing to wear.”
    A nasty grin spread across Eustacia’s face.
    â€œSo that’s her game,” I whispered to Swiss.
    My mother turned away from the crack and faced us both. Her moon-white fur was ruffled with emotion. “The rat-candidate for queen shall appear before the human prince wearing garments more fine and costly than any other woman, taken from among the treasures of the Northern Rat Realm,” she declared. “My son, the Rat Prince, will see to it.”
    â€œNot to disagree with you, Lady Apricot,” Swiss said, “but I think you should see to it. Prince Char has no dress sense. Think of that ridiculous cape he wears to ceremonies.”

 
    C INDERELLA
    The next day passed in a flurry of mad activity. I cooked, cleaned, and flew from chamber to chamber on errands. When at last dinner was finished and the plates cleared away, I found it almost restful to kneel upon the floor in the kitchen to scour at the places where grease had slopped from the cooking pans.
    With each scrub, I imagined I was wiping Wilhemina from my life.
    â€œLady Rose!”
    I looked up, startled. It was Mrs. Grigson, the housekeeper.
    â€œPlease stop cleaning the floor,” she begged, her kind face soft with worry. “You’ll ruin your poor knees. And your hands! If dear Lady Jane were alive to see this, her heart would be broken. Mine is, indeed.”
    â€œThank you for your concern,” I replied. “But someone must tidy up, and