Quesnel, with disturbing calm, stripped off his jacket and rolled up one shirtsleeve to expose an emission device strapped to his wrist. It looked like it might shoot long bullets or possibly darts.

He crouched down behind the table. It was a tight fit for three, two of them in walking gowns, for it was after all only a tea table. Quesnel peeked around one side, wrist up, and aimed.

“No clear shot,” he said, turning to the ladies. “That beast is fast.”

People were yelling, furniture crashed, teapots shattered. The lioness was intent on maximum ruckus, overturning all the tables while servers stumbled out of her way, cakes flew through the air and the bells on the door reverberated as patrons pressed together seeking exit. There was panic everywhere but…

Rue straightened up to look over the edge of their makeshift barricade.

“What are you doing? Stay down!”

Rue batted Quesnel’s restraining hand away. “She’s not hurting anyone.”

“What?”

“The lioness, she’s not actually doing anything to people. It’s only objects. Right now, she is savaging a sweets tray.”

Prim remonstrated: “Rue, she has upset many perfectly decent pots of tea. I call that a serious offence, if nothing else.”

One huge paw appeared on the edge of their table-top, then another, and then a smooth sandy-coloured head peaked over and looked at them. The cat’s whiskers twitched, giving her an aura of accusation. Rue had a horrible moment of swallowing down laughter – it was as if they were playing a game of hide and seek.

She met the cat’s gaze. Oddly enough, the animal had brown eyes. Rue didn’t think cats could have brown eyes. But then, who was she to question anyone else’s eye colour? Given hers were an odd sort of yellow.

Quesnel raised his wrist and took aim.

“Wait, stop.” Rue put a hand on his arm above where the weapon was strapped and pushed down. Quesnel resisted. He was remarkably strong. Rue took a moment to be impressed – he didn’t look physically fit.

Rue and the cat stared at one another.

The lioness blinked.

Rue blinked back. “I don’t think she intends to hurt us. I don’t think she means to hurt anyone.”

The cat tilted her head back and forth, gaze sliding between the three of them. She looked at Primrose for a long moment and then, in an amazingly fluid movement, she leapt over the table, grabbed Rue’s hideous parasol up in her mouth, turned, and charged out of the tea-shop by way of one of the front windows. Which were not open, mind you. The resulting crash resulted in several more screams. Pandemonium reigned outside in the assembly area as the cat skidded through the crowds there, parasol firmly clutched in her teeth.