My open-topped carriage trundles through the rapidly darkening streets of Dimos. Maybe it's because the horses are walking uphill instead of down this time, but it feels like it's already been longer than the entire ride back to the campsite two nights ago, and we're barely halfway there.

I figured I would get to finish out the week of performances with my troupe before being called to the castle, but after we got the signed contract sent off, we received a reply almost immediately that I was to be picked up this evening. I just barely had time to say goodbye to everyone. Since they'll be back in six months, it wasn't that tearful of an affair.

I tried as much as possible to give the impression that I'm excited for this change. Suzanne saw through me, though.

"Okay, what's the worst thing that could happen?" she asked me. "What are you most afraid of?"

I laughed flatly, not meeting her eyes in the hopes that it might help mine stay dry.

"I guess it would be that the king will be a complete asshole who makes my life miserable," I said. "And that no one else in the castle will like me, so I won't have anyone to talk to. Those are the big ones."

Suzanne took both my hands in hers to force me to look at her. "Well there's no possible way that your worst fears could happen, then, because you're the friendliest person I know! Even if the king is a dick, there's no way you won't have people to talk about it with."

I'm playing her reassuring words over in my mind now as I fidget in my seat. I don't know how much longer I can sit still on this ride. I stare at the back of the driver's head and start to contemplate how to best strike up a conversation with him. Whatever my near future is going to look like, there isn't a doubt in my mind that I will need as many friends as I can get. Plus, I'm so nervous I don't know if I can just sit here silently any longer.

I wait until the wheels stop as the driver brings the horses to a halt to let someone cross in front of the carriage. Quickly, I get out of my seat and climb over to sit as close to the driver's spot as I can manage. I take a deep breath and tap him on the shoulder. He jumps and turns around to look at me with confusion.

"Is there something wrong, Miss Catarina?" he asks. He is smartly dressed, and short and squat with vivid green scales. His words are clipped yet polite.

"Hello." I suck down my anxiety at potentially doing something rude here and put on my most amicable smile. "I don't believe I ever got your name, Mister…?"

He looks at me like he's not quite sure if I'm serious, but still answers my question. "It's Felix."

"Lovely to meet you Mr. Felix." I kick my smile up a few notches to what I'm hoping falls short of manic. "Do you mind if I sit next to you?"

I can practically see the wheels turning in his brain as he thinks of how best to say no. Eventually, though, he moves over to make space and offers a hand to help me clamber over the back of the bench to sit beside him. Once I'm seated comfortably, I commence the onslaught.

"So Mr. Felix, how long have you worked at the castle?" I ask.

He pauses long enough that I wonder whether or not he's going to answer.

"'Bout forty-five years now," he eventually replies.

"Do you like your job?"

He grunts noncommittally. "I like it fine."

I wait for him to elaborate on that point, but he doesn't. I plow forward and ask the primary question on my mind.

"What's the king like?"

He sniffs. "Good man. Very reasonable."

That's not very descriptive, but it is a relief to hear. It doesn't give me a lot of room to ask as follow-up questions. I move on to more conversational topics.

"Your horses are beautiful. What breed are they?"

"Friesians."

"They're so calm. And their gait is so elegant! Nothing like the horses we keep to pull our caravans. They're more working breeds."

I pause in case he wants to comment on that or ask me any questions. He does not.

"Is it hard to ride a horse when you have a tail?"

He snorts, something that suggests the idea of a laugh without any accompanying change in expression. "Not particularly, no."

I can't tell whether he's laughing at me or just at the question, but I'm chalking it up as a win that I got any reaction out of him at all.

I continue to pester him the whole way, saying any asinine thing that pops into my head. Whether or not he's annoyed by it, it's impossible to tell. His responses certainly don't get any longer, though.

When we pull up before the front entrance, he disembarks and walks around to offer me a hand down. When my feet are safely on the ground, he pulls my bag and lute case off the carriage and sets them down next to me.

"Thank you for the ride, Mr. Felix. And for the company," I say to him as he climbs back into the driver's seat.

He looks back at me and bows his head slightly. "My pleasure, Miss Catarina." Then he flicks the reins slightly to get the horses going, presumably taking the carriage back to wherever it is usually kept.

I'm beaming. "My pleasure," he said. Hopefully that means I made a good first impression.

I turn around to find two servants standing behind me, one of whom is in the process of picking up my lute case and bag.

"Oh, you don't have to do that," I say, reaching to take them from her hands. "I can carry them myself."

"Begging your pardon, miss, but I'm just carrying out orders," she responds, keeping them out of my reach. "It will be waiting in your room."

I press my lips together and nod. I'm not going to try to wrest them from her hands or anything.

"Thank you for your help," I say. She nods back to me and then heads inside, my worldly possessions in tow.

I turn towards the other servant, who is smiling at me politely, waiting. When we lock eyes, she gives me a little bow.

"Welcome to the castle, Miss Catarina," she says in a chipper tone. "His majesty is expecting you. Please follow me."

I follow her inside, more than a little confused. I'm not sure what I expected to be met with when I arrived, but I certainly didn't expect any sort of special treatment. Especially not for the king to be waiting for my arrival.

She's setting a brisk pace, which is a little disappointing, since there's so many beautiful tapestries and interesting objects mounted on the walls down the hallways we walk down, and I wish I could stop and observe them more closely. The art in Veilsung is so stylistically distinctive and different from what I've seen before, and whatever is on display in the king's castle must be some of the best art the country has to offer. And this is only what's in the hallways.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Well, I'm going to be here a while, so I suppose I can always come back later.

"Excuse me," I say to the back of the woman I'm following. "I don't think I got your name."

She flinches a bit and falters in her step, shooting an odd glance back at me, but she doesn't stop.

"My name is Sahresh, ma'am," she says.

"Nice to meet you, Miss Sahresh. Looking forward to working with you."

She hesitates before replying to that. "Yes, ma'am," is all she says when she does speak.

So the carriage driver is Felix, and this tall servant with black and orange stripes is Sahresh. There's no way there won't be many more names to learn… maybe I should take notes. So far it seems I may have a harder time making friends than I'd hoped, if the two people I've met so far are any indication.

Sahresh comes to a stop in front of a beautiful oak door with subtle silver inlays. She knocks before opening it, and gestures for me to walk inside.

"Right this way, Miss Catarina."

I take a deep breath and step through the doorway.

The room I enter into is a spacious office, lushly decorated and lined with bookshelves. There's a sitting area near the entrance, and past it a couple chairs in front of a stately desk, behind which sits someone I recognize. My face falls.

When Khysmet looks up and sees me standing speechless before him, an indulgent smile spreads across his face.

"Excellent," he purrs as he rises from his chair. "I can see by the look on your face that you're surprised to see me. You know, I gave my staff, including the representative I sent to your camp, explicit orders not to mention my name, hoping your director had never heard it before. Looks like it paid off." He closes his eyes and breathes in and out deeply. "I do love a good dramatic reveal."

My shock ebbs as I process the meaning of this development. So the person who will have total control over my life in accordance with his every whim… is this asshole? And even though he wasn't too awful last night, this entire scenario plus his little opening speech here is definitely tipping the scales further towards "asshole" in my mind. The numbers on that contract I signed suddenly seem much too small in light of this development.

"Sorry for sending the carriage for you," he continues, sauntering around his desk and coming to stand not far in front of me. "I know you would much rather have walked the whole way, but I thought it better to protect my new investment."

I'm pretty sure the only reason he came to stand closer is so I would have to look up further to meet his eyes. What a dick. My irritation is mounting at an unprecedented rate. I'm finding it impossible to think of a single thing to say that doesn't involve cussing out my new patron.

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue? I would have thought you'd be happy I kept my promise to reveal my identity at our next meeting."

"I'm ecstatic," I say flatly, voice dripping in sarcasm. "I was just lost in thought trying to figure out what I could have possibly done to deserve the pleasure of your patronage."

He flicks his tongue and beams at my cold response. "Don't be so harsh on yourself, your talent and hard work have made you more than worthy of being a musician in my court."

"I'm aware of that much," I say tetchily. "I was speaking more in terms of karmic retribution. As in, why you, of all people?"

"Retribution?" he chuckles. He's getting more smug with every passing second, and I feel my anger rise in perfect tandem with it. "This is more of a blessing than you know. You're lucky to find yourself in front of me tonight."

"I suppose there's worse fates. I could be being eaten by a bear right now, for example. Or dying of dysentery."

"I'm glad you see it my way. By the end of your stay here, you'll be showering me with thanks for bringing you here."

I'm on the verge of hyperventilating here. My vision is starting to get dark around the edges. Between these smug little remarks and the realization that I’m going to be subjected to them constantly over the next six months at minimum, I can't think of a time I've ever been more pissed off at any one person in my life. I'm about to abandon any self control I have and let my anger take the wheels completely.

Then I remember that this man is not only going to be irritating for the next six months, but he is also going to have complete control over every aspect of my life during this time. He could kick me out into the street, or worse, keep me trapped here and make my life a living hell if he feels like it. I have to do whatever I can to make sure he doesn't feel like it.

I have to learn to choke down every urge to talk back and to stifle every emotion I might have. My safety is entirely dependent on that ability. Maybe if I'm lucky, I can make myself so completely bland and uninteresting that he'll forget I even exist most of the time.

Sheer necessity helps me find a new center of calm and humility within myself. I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and bow deeply.

"Thank you for selecting me to serve you and your court," I say in a voice devoid of any malice or emotion. "I look forward to the months I will spend working for you."

When I straighten up and look him in the eyes again, I'm surprised to see that for the first time since I've met him, he looks displeased. Maybe even disappointed.

He straightens his posture so he's standing at his full height, looking down his snout at me with a severe expression. Suddenly, he seems broader and much more imposing. His demeanor changes so abruptly it's giving me whiplash, and I find I'm intimidated despite myself.

"I'll tell you now, I'm not going to tolerate such obvious lies," he says with absolute authority, though he doesn't raise his voice at all. "Not from you. Not while you're working for me. You haven't been dishonest with me yet, and if you want to stay in my good graces, I suggest you keep it that way."

If he was rubbing me the wrong way before now, this is more like lacerating me with a cheese grater. The implicit expectation that beyond a shadow of a doubt I will meekly do whatever he tells me to, his posture that seemed intimidating a second ago but which now reminds of a particularly strict school teacher threatening to smack me with a ruler if I speak out of turn… My resolve snaps like a twig under his foot.

"I honestly think you're being a complete and total asshole," I snarl at him with the full force of my unfettered rage.

I hear Sahresh gasp softly behind me, but I don't care. If she thinks less of me for openly insulting her king, so be it. It had to be said.

Khysmet, on the other hand, looks like I've just said exactly what he wanted to hear, if the shit-eating grin that splits his face is any indication. His eyes rove over my face, bright red and contorted in defiance as it is, seeming to revel in my anger. Then he proffers his hand for me to shake.

"Welcome to my court, Miss Catarina," he says smoothly. "I know you won't disappoint me."

I take his hand, gripping it with force to show him I'm not stepping down from whatever unspoken challenge he's clearly issuing me here.

"Don't count on it, your majesty," I hiss.

I try to drop my hand, but he holds fast to it. Then he gives it a tug that throws me off balance and has me stumbling forward, almost crashing into him. My other hand reaches out to catch myself and it finds his chest.

I have to look up further than ever to meet his gaze. His expression has softened, but his eyes are intense on mine, and his bergamot and mahogany scent washes over me in a flood.

"For you," he says, his voice low, "just Khysmet is fine."

I blink up at him wordlessly. My anger from mere seconds before evaporates into thin air, replaced with confusion and something unidentifiable that pounds against the inside of my chest. My brain fills with fog, but my senses feel heightened, and I'm suddenly aware of every inch of my skin, especially the points of contact between us. His palm is so cool and dry, yet satiny smooth against my own, and his chest is firm and unyielding under the soft fabric of his shirt. I find myself falling into something of a daze.

Suddenly, his forked tongue flicks from between his lips, startling me a little due to my proximity to his face. I'm more than a little embarrassed by the barely audible yip I make when I jump. It's obvious that he heard it. I can feel his breathing deepen in response, his chest expanding further under my palm, and there's a new glint in his eyes that looks almost… hungry.

We stay like this for what feels like a long moment, but probably only lasts a few seconds, the air around us frozen in a sort of limbo. Then he shatters the silence abruptly.

"Please escort Miss Catarina to her chambers," he calls out without breaking eye contact with me. Presumably, he's addressing Sahresh, who must still be standing near the door.

"Of course, your majesty," she responds

He makes no other move to dismiss me. His hand stays in mine, his gaze locked onto me. Eventually, I get the impression that he's waiting for me to back off first. I might be less willing to do so normally, but I'm hit with the sudden realization that I really don't want to be here anymore. Slowly, I back away, maintaining eye contact while he finally lets my hand slip out of his.

Eventually, I'm the first to look away. It definitely feels like a concession, but I realize that running into something I don't see on my way out the door would be infinitely worse than just... looking away first. I turn and face the waiting Sahresh, whose face is a tad pale after all that. She bows deeply to Khysmet and then gestures for me to follow her once more, which I do promptly. As I walk out the door, I refuse to look back.