Mouse lay in her feathers, a mess of blankets at her feet, staring up into the dim. There was no sense in trying to go back to sleep now; the first fingers of daylight were already beginning to creep under her bed curtains.

She sat up and pushed her way out through the thick embroidered hangings, crossing to her basin and splashing the sleep from her face before taking up a comb to pull through the thick dark hair that fell well past her shoulders. She looked at herself in the glass, wondering how anyone could possibly mistake her for someone of consequence, for anyone other than some dark-featured Toth girl hiding in the corners of the castle.

There was a sound at the door, of someone drawing a fingernail across the wood. Mouse crossed to it at once and was greeted by a gap-toothed serving girl on the other side.

“I thought you should know, I’ve just left her tea.”

“Already?” Mouse asked, raising an eyebrow in surprise and setting down her comb. “The sun’s scarcely up.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” the girl smirked. “You go down to the kitchens, and I’ll see that Her Majesty is dressed.” Mouse held out an expectant hand to the girl, who in reply furrowed her brow in confusion.

“Your apron, then,” Mouse said without withdrawing her hand. The serving girl laughed.

“‘Twas only a jest,” she said. “Even I do not envy you the day you’re about to have.” She leaned in close and lowered her voice. “It seems our Lord Johannes has been on less than his best behavior,” she said just above a whisper. “Caught creeping out of someone else’s bedchambers less than an hour ago. Or at least that’s what I heard.” Mouse tried to swallow the lump of disgust she felt in her stomach at the nobleman’s untoward behavior.

“As long as he wasn’t in my wing, I don’t care much what he does,” she murmured.

She knew that she would be made to suffer the Empress’s ill temper for one reason or another; what did it matter whether it was a lame horse, a corked wine, or the lascivious misdeeds of her favorite?

Once the girl had left, Mouse pulled on a simple lilac gown and hastened herself to the Empress’s chambers. If she was going to be punished, it would not be through any fault of her own.

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The Empress’s eyes were dark and glassy as Mouse pulled a soft-bristled brush over the length of her thick, shining hair. The resemblance between the two women, though neither cared to acknowledge it, was accented by the contrast of the women to their right; the ladies, four or five of them gathered upon cushioned velvet stools in shades of blue and silver, were all light-eyed and fair-haired with delicate complexions resulting from a life spent largely indoors.

The Empress was a sporting type, much to the dismay of the court, and preferred to spend her time shooting or riding, even if she did not hunt. The carelessness of her words and her actions were a direct reflection of one another, and though she bore her mother’s southern features and her father’s bold disposition, her brashness was entirely her own.

“The trouble is that he thinks far more highly of himself than I think of him,” she said now of the nobleman, Johannes, in a tone not untainted by bitterness. “Though I suppose I could say the same for the rest of you.” The women about her did not know whether they ought to laugh or keep quiet—all but Mouse, who always chose to remain quiet.

“Lord Johannes is a knave if ever there was one,” one of the ladies said, rather bravely, thought Mouse as she tucked a pin into the Empress’s hair. The Empress turned to look at her, knocking a pin from Mouse’s hand.

“Is that so, Lady Katla?” the Empress said in a tone with such measured coldness that all the warm of the room suddenly seemed to abandon it. Lady Katla laughed uneasily.

“I only meant, well, I—” she stammered.

“Go on, dear,” said the Empress. “Tell me what you meant when you called Lord Johannes a knave.” It was more a sneer than a smile that sat upon her lips as she looked at the golden-haired girl shifting uncomfortably on her stool. Lady Katla blushed in embarrassment but said nothing.

“I have always wondered, Lady Katla,” began the Empress, her tone disparaging in its formality, “why a lady so lovely as yourself is not only unwed but has not yet received a single marriage proposal.” She paused to let everyone in the room take in her words. “Now I see that it is not only because you do not think before you speak, but because you do not seem to think at all.”

Mouse felt sorry for poor Lady Katla. But she supposed that sooner or later, the girl would have to learn that in order to stay in the Empress’s good graces, one must venture nothing. It was a lesson she herself had learned quickly, and even at the cost of being called forever Mouse, she knew her life was in some small way better for it.

“Now then,” said the Empress with a smile, still looking at Lady Katla, whose eyes had fallen to the floor. “Is there anything else you wish to say? Any other members of my court you would like to criticize?” Lady Katla shook her head.

“Wonderful,” the Empress said, turning her attention back to the glass in front of her. “Now why don’t you go tell that knave Johannes to change his stinking clothes before breakfast.”