I don't so much as look at the piano when I enter the library. Instead I walk right up to where Khysmet is seated on a couch and plunk down right next to him. He looks up from his book, flicks his tongue and stares at me with a quizzical brow.

"Ask me where I've been for the last three hours," I instruct him.

"Okay," he says. "Where have you been?"

"I can't tell you."

He blinks at me, confusion and amusement plain on his features.

"Why can't you tell–"

"I can't tell you here," I correct myself, cutting him off. "Where's somewhere that we won't be overheard?"

He stifles a grin, clearly just humoring me more than actually thinking I have any valuable information. I don't mind. He can underestimate me all he wants – I'll be summarily wiping the smirk off his face in just a few minutes.

"My private study has a very sturdy lock," he suggests. "We can go there."

I grimace. I know his private study connects directly to his bedroom. And to be locked in there with him… Salacious rumors would abound.

"Anywhere else?" I plead. "Your office maybe?

"My office is in an area with more foot traffic, and a few of my advisors have the key," he argues. "It's my study or nothing."

I purse my lips at his ultimatum. Ultimately, though, I nod in agreement and follow him out of the library.

When I step into his study, I find it surprisingly cluttered. I've been in his office before, on my first night, and it was quite clean and well-organized. This room, on the other hand, may be far from what I would consider messy, but there are a lot of odds and ends laying around on shelves, and his desk is covered with books and papers.

I tense up as I hear the lock click behind me. If pressed, I would say I don't really think that Khysmet will really try anything funny just because we're behind closed doors. He doesn't seem like the sort of man who takes what he wants regardless of the other party's feelings on the matter. However, I will say that he's teased me so much up until this point that it has me on edge.

"Please, sit down," he says, and gestures to some comfortable looking chairs and a loveseat. I sit on the loveseat and stretch out my legs on it quickly so he doesn't have a chance to sit down right beside me. He takes his seat in the chair closest to me.

"So," he starts with an amused grin. "What's so important that you couldn't tell me in public?"

I squint at him searchingly and glance at the door.

"You're sure that no one will walk in on us?" I ask.

"I have the only key on my person right now," he reassures me.

"Okay… good."

I pause for a minute and inhale deeply for dramatic effect, then I come right out with it.

"Sulfeng is stealing from the castle treasury. I don't know exactly how he's doing it, but he's definitely doing it. At least one person is helping him out – a scribe named Rolf. There may be others; I only know of those two for certain."

Khysmet is staring at me like he's not sure he heard me correctly. I think it takes a minute for him to process what I actually said.

"That's… a serious accusation, Catarina," he eventually says. "Where did you overhear this rumor?"

"It's not a rumor," I insist. "I heard both of them arguing about Rolf's cut of the money straight from their own mouths. Then I went and found their hiding spot myself."

Khysmet pales considerably at this.

"You… You actually found the money? Were you seen? You didn't take it, did you?"

"I don't think I was seen, no. It got a little dicey, though, since Rolf came into the room to collect it while I was there, and I had to hide. Incidentally, it was hidden in the false bottom of one of the desk drawers in Sulfeng's room. There's a button you press to open it. Nothing in there now, since, you know, Rolf picked it up, but I expect if you quietly have it checked every once in a while, you may find evidence you can use to pin him on something."

I watch Khysmet close his eyes and rub the bridge of his snout while I'm talking. He's quiet for a while after I finish. Then, he starts laughing – quietly at first, then building into an almost manic cackle.

"Y- You're actually serious, aren't you?" he asks rhetorically between fits of laughter. "I- I can't believe you actually snuck into… And you didn't even get caught?"

Then he looks me level in the eye and says some of my favorite words to hear.

"I seem to have seriously underestimated you, Miss Catarina."

I beam in triumph. But then he goes on.

"I was fairly certain you still hated me, though."

I blink, unsure why he's bringing that up.

"I… I've met worse people, I suppose," I say, hesitant. "Just not many."

He stares at me, blood red eyes intense and questioning.

"So why did you bother telling me?" he asks. "Why not just let it go? I would have been none the wiser if you had kept quiet about Sulfeng. It doesn’t impact you in any way, either. So… why tell me?"

That… is a good question. I think hard about my answer. Why was I so eager to tell him?

“I guess…” I start, “because he’s really stealing from the whole country? Not just you? Maybe?”

“Maybe?”

“Well, it’s pretty arrogant for you to think that theft from the royal treasury is a personal slight against you that I was trying to avenge.”

He smirks. “I suppose it is rather arrogant, isn’t it? I still don’t buy it that concern for national security is what had you so eager to needle Sulfeng, though.”

“Well, believe it, because that’s the answer you’re getting.”

He gives me a long, evaluating stare, flicks his tongue, and taps his fingers together as though deep in thought. After a long beat, he speaks again.

“Where did you overhear this conversation?” he asks.

“In the great hall. I hear a lot every morning. People are less discreet when they think their voice is being covered up by my harp.”

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

Another long pause. Then,

“I think I may have underestimated your usefulness to me.”

I look at him skeptically, but don’t say anything, curious to hear what he has to say.

“As much as I love and respect my people and my heritage,” he continues, “we do have a tendency to solve problems in a more… subtle way compared to many other cultures. One might even call it underhanded. The language of our politics is more indirect, and there’s quite a lot that goes on behind closed doors. What I mean to say is, I have a keen interest in having extra ears around the castle – people I can trust to report on the activities and conversations of the members of my court that are a bit less forthright.

“I already have many people I know to be my supporters, who keep me well informed on what they hear. However, if those who are conspiring against me believe someone to be a supporter of mine, they would be less inclined to say anything in front of that person. Pretty straightforward problem, not easily solved once the supporter has been outed as such.

“You, as an outsider, are immediately suspect of just about everything. However, you are also seen as uninvolved in the politics of our country, therefore free of allegiance either way. I myself didn’t expect you to have any interest in the surreptitious actions of my court members. I certainly didn’t expect that you would be coming to me about them.”

“I’ve never really been involved in political intrigue before,” I admit. “It’s more exciting than I thought it would be.”

“Yes, well. If I were to ask you to continue keeping an eye on the members of my court, what would you say?"

I don't have to consider that for very long.

"I'd be interested," I say. "Today was exhilarating, honestly. And I'm going to be overhearing things no matter what, so I may as well put my unique position to use."

He nods. "Well, if I am to consider officially enlisting your services, I can foresee running into two rather significant roadblocks.”

“And those would be?”

“For one,” he starts, “you’re incapable of lying.”

My mouth drops open in shock.

“I am not!” I protest.

“You have to admit, your emotions tend to run away with you. You might be able to get away with keeping them under control for a while, but I haven’t seen any evidence that you’d be able to do so for any reasonable stretch of time.”

I cross my arms and scowl. Mostly because he’s not wrong. I have not lived a life that necessitated me stifling my emotions, thus I have very little practice. I know this about myself quite well. I’m also a poor actor in general, and if questioned extensively by someone, I know I couldn’t keep to a false story convincingly. I search within myself for a workaround here, some option that might have a higher chance of success given my own limitations.

“I think… I think that trying to concoct more elaborate lies is probably be beyond my capabilities.” I concede. “But I might be able to handle just playing dumb.”

“Is that so?” Khysmet asks with a doubtful scoff. “I seem to recall you telling me that you hate being underestimated.”

“Well… it’ll take some practice, but if I start interacting more with members of your court, I'll have plenty of opportunities to try. They already think I’m hopelessly vapid and self-absorbed. I know this for a fact; they talk about me all the time. If I act like I don't know what's going on, they'll find it perfectly believable, since that's what they already expect from me."

"Practice, hmm?" He considers it for a moment. "Yes, I suppose there are plenty of no-stakes opportunities to do so in the near future. I'll give you the opportunity to prove yourself capable in this regard."

"Gee thanks," I say flatly. Would it kill him to at least pretend to have some faith in me?

"So what's the second roadblock?" I ask.

Khysmet leans forward in his chair, fingertips pressed together in a steeple.

"I need to be certain I can trust you implicitly, beyond a shadow of a doubt," he says. "The fact that you came to me immediately about Sulfeng is, of course, a strong point in your favor. However, I still don't believe you've given me the real answer as to why you did, and that's giving me pause."

I press my lips together in a thin line and breathe deep in and out through my nose.

"You want the real reason?" I ask.

Khysmet nods and shrugs. It's pretty self-evident. I take another deep breath, then sit up and lean forward too.

"The real reason," I say, "is that Sulfeng is not a good man. When I talked to his attending servant Cevine earlier today, she mentioned that when he's alone with her, he acts like a total creep – and that's putting it very mildly. She's fifteen.

"I've heard several members of the staff talk about him in the short time I've been here, and they're not good stories. I don't care for him, and I don't trust him, plain and simple.

"You, on the other hand…" I look Khysmet in the eye and square my jaw. He's watching me back with rapt attention

"You," I say, "have been a complete dick hole to me the whole time I've known you."

He looks unimpressed and tries to interrupt, but I talk over him.

"But…" I say, "I haven't met a single member of the castle staff that will say a single thing against you. In fact, whenever I start complaining or bad-mouthing you, people rush unwaveringly to your defense. And I know it's not just because you're the king, because they do not have the same reservations when it comes to talking about your father."

Khysmet's brow scrunches as though he wants to ask more about that, but he doesn't.

"Plus, you're uncommonly generous to your people," I continue. "I'm in the great hall every morning, and I've personally witnessed you being startlingly generous and kind on a regular basis. It's hard for me to reconcile with how much of a dick hole you are to me, actually."

"What's your point here?"

"My point is this: Sulfeng has never spoken to me, therefore never been rude to me personally, whereas you are constantly harassing me. However, judging by the opinions of the people you have power over, plus the actions I have personally witnessed you take, by my estimation, you are the better man. To me, that's more important than who I 'like' or 'hate' more.

"So long as you remain the better man," I conclude, "you can rely on my support. Guaranteed."

Khysmet's searching expression lingers on me for a long time. Then, it gradually spreads into a shrewd smile.

"I like that answer, Miss Catarina," he says. He holds out a hand for me to shake, which I do, gripping it firmly. He doesn't try to tug me forward like he did last time, which I'm grateful for, even though I was tensed and ready for it this time.

When I let go, he plants a hand on either thigh, then stands up out of his chair.

"I'd like to head back to the library for what little time we have before dinner," he says. "Come with me?

"Sure," I reply and stand to follow.

I feel triumphant. I feel respected. It's a delicious sensation, and I am quietly reveling in it as I stick close behind Khysmet while he leads me out of the room.

"So," he says, moving to unlock the door, "does that mean if you meet someone who is my moral equivalent, but they're not 'a dick hole' to you, that you'll betray me in a heartbeat?"

"I suppose so," I muse, "but you've got a significant head start in my personal moral evaluation that would take a lot to beat."

The lock clicks, and he opens the door for me.

"And you're sure you can stay objective if my hypothetical counterpart simply treats you with basic dignity?" he teases.

As I walk past him, I lean in close, blink up at him through my lashes, and speak in a smug purr.

"I am not so easily swayed by honeyed words, your majesty."

There's a pregnant pause. His eyes rove over me for a long moment, the expression behind them unreadable. His posture is suddenly stiff, and I see his tail lashing out of the corner of my eye.

He clears his throat thickly.

"On second thought," he says, "I might stay and read in here. Go find Rhys; I'll let you go for the day."

I cock my head quizzically, sensing a change in the atmosphere here.

"You sure?" I ask. "I could still keep you company here if you want."

He takes a sharp breath in through his nose. For the first time all afternoon – maybe even in the whole time I've yet known him? – he stops meeting my eyes.

"Thank you, but there's no need," he insists. "I'll see you in the morning."

Still in the doorway, I stretch up on my toes a little and peer closer into his face, trying to move into his shifting line of sight. He leans away from me and looks away more pointedly. He's acting very strange.

"What's wrong?" I demand.

Suddenly I feel two hands, one on each of my shoulders, and Khysmet literally shoves me away from him and through the door frame into the hallway. He keeps his grip on my shoulders firm and holds me at a distance, as though to make absolutely certain that I don't try to come back in.

"Nothing is wrong. I'll see you tomorrow."

He says this definitively, then shuts the door in my face.