The cat dominates him. Yet … it is not the cat. One of those women is involved in this, perhaps a Wit-mentor as Black Rolf was to me, encouraging him to plunge into his Wit-bond with an unnatural intensity. And the Prince is so infatuated that he has suspended all his own judgement.
Wow, you're stupid, Fitz. Still haven't figured it out yet, have you? Chekov's gun. You were told a story about a dying woman who forced her mind into the mind of her bonded deer, yet you've conveniently forgotten all about that, haven't you? Sucker.
