Vizsla wakes me in the morning like she said she would, and I do end up needing her help to get ready. Turns out some of the clothes that have shown up in my wardrobe overnight have corsetry that laces up in the back. I’m relieved to see that none of it is horribly ostentatious or excessively revealing as I’d feared it might be. Just a few quite elegant dresses, each of which is nicer than anything I’ve ever worn in my life. I pick one out and beg Vizsla not to lace me up too tight, a request that she generously grants.

Once it's on, I notice to my dismay that the neckline is a bit low for my tastes. I'm not flashing anyone or anything, but it's a far cry from modest. A second glance around the wardrobe reveals that this is a common theme. I wish I could make myself believe that this is not by design.

Vizsla apologizes profusely for not having the first clue about how to do up my hair. Fortunately, though, I know how to do some pretty fancy braids. She watches my fingers with fascination. I offer to show her how to do it when we have some free time, and she looks ecstatic.

After I'm done being made presentable, I am led to breakfast. I assumed that it would take place in a dining hall with many other members of the court, but once again I am led to a room where the only other occupant is Khysmet, save for a few attending servants standing on the edges of the room.

At this point, I'm no longer surprised, just disappointed. This man seems to revel in my discomfort, and I'm not looking forward to seeing the full extent of the lengths he will go to to engender it in me.

At least it's too early in the morning for me to get mad. I'm still not fully awake, and strong emotions require more brainpower than I can muster right now.

"Good morning, Miss Catarina," he greets me, flicking his tongue. "Sleep well?"

"More or less," I say, taking a seat at the large table that dominates much of the room. It looks to seat about fourteen or so people. Khysmet is at the head, and I pick a seat a few chairs down.

"Please, help yourself," he says and gestures to the modest spread of breakfast foods that covers a good half of the tabletop.

I take a plate and start piling it with a wide assortment of food, trying to choose an even split between dishes I recognize and those I've never seen before. I'm inexorably drawn to the many strange and interesting dishes, but I need to take things I know I'll actually eat, too, so I'm not starving all morning.

"Normally I eat my breakfast alone," Khysmet says, "but I thought now might be a good time to address any questions or requests you might have before your first day here."

I perk up at that. He actually wants to help me out on my first day? Not just leave me to flounder? Unexpected, but I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, here. I think for a second before replying.

"I guess my first question would be, what is my day actually going to look like? Obviously I'm going to be playing music, but, you know, when? Where? For how long?"

"Well," he starts, "my daily routine is fairly straightforward. For most of the morning, I make myself available to the public. I sit in the great hall, and various people who seek my audience come in to make requests, alert me of situations in my kingdom, voice concerns, et cetera. That lasts from after breakfast to about eleven. I'd like you to provide some background music during that time. Nothing obtrusive, instrumental only, but other than that, whatever you want to play.

"At eleven, I have lunch, and between then and about one or two, I meet with my ministers, various nobles, and other leaders who come from across the country. In the interest of national security, you are not permitted to listen in on those meetings, so feel free to run around and do whatever you want, within reason, for those hours. Just make sure to be outside the meeting room waiting for me by one.

"After I finish my administrative meetings, I have until seven to do whatever the hell I want, provided there aren't any matters that I need to attend to. Sometimes I may desire musical accompaniment. Other times, I may not. Just be waiting for me at one to find out.

"Dinner starts at seven, and it's open to any ministers and nobility that might want to partake. The dining hall generally gets quite full. I'd like you to play then, so make sure you eat before seven. Take people's requests, keep it lively, stick around until I tell you you can leave.

"And that's about it," he finishes.

"That's… not so bad actually," I say ponderously. I can't help but think how strange it is that he gave me a straight answer. "And this is every day?"

"Every day except Sunday. That's my day off. I'm thinking I might let you take Sundays off, too. Don't count on it every week, though." He pauses and looks at me expectantly. "Any questions?"

"A couple…" I pause and twiddle my fork while I try to think of the best order to ask them in. Eventually I decide to come right out with my most demanding one. "I brought my lute, but that's the only instrument I have. Would I be able to-"

"We have several instruments here for you," he interrupts. "Some pianos that were only really decorative before and such. If there's anything you might want that we don't already have, just let me know and I will have one sent here."

"Oh," I say, pleasantly surprised. "Thank you."

I think I already know the answer to my next question, but I ask it anyway. "Do you have any other musicians in your court right now?"

"We have entertainment brought in during dinner here and there, but no one on retainer at the moment." He smiles in a way I don't trust. "I have just recently acquired a strong desire to hear more music during my day."

I don't know exactly what he means by that, but I'm not going to ask.

"I was also hoping I might be able to get some sheet music," I continue. "I'm sure there's a lot of music that's well-known in Veilsung that I've never heard before. I can only imagine that people will be making requests for songs I don't know."

"That's a good point." He waves over one of the servants at the edge of the room.

"Could you send someone out to purchase sheet music?" He looks back at me. "Any specific requests?"

"Anything and everything, please," I say to the attendant. "I'd rather cast a wide net."

She bows and leaves to carry out the request.

Khysmet turns back to me. "Anything else?"

I stare at my now mostly empty plate. Everything is delicious. I can't believe I'm going to get to eat like this all the time. The schedule he's laid out for me is perfectly reasonable, too. It seems too good to be true. And that leads me to my next question. I fold my hands and look at Khysmet with extreme skepticism.

"Why am I getting the star treatment here?" I demand. "The new clothes, the fancy room, my own attending servant. After last night, I was pretty sure you only brought me here to torment me. But I'm being treated like royalty here, in very literal terms. What's your game here?"

He grins at me with a sinister glint in his eyes and flicks his tongue. "I brought you here for my entertainment," he explains. "Sometimes that might involve tormenting you. Most of the time, it will not."

I heave a sigh. Some torment is worse than none, but much better than constant. And it at least sounds like I'll have quite a bit of free time to get away from being his source of "entertainment".

"So," I say tentatively, dreading the answer to this question, "during my off hours… I can really do whatever I want?"

He looks delighted that I asked. "Just make sure you generally keep someone apprised of your location. If I should seek your services and find you unable to be located, you'll find my retribution to be unpleasant."

Rarely have I heard a threat issued so cheerily. I can't help but roll my eyes.

"I'd also like you to let me know directly if you want to leave the castle grounds."

"Why?"

"Just because."

Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

I take a deep breath and rub my temples with my fingers. It's too early for me to deal with this. I thank the gods that he’s already told me he usually eats breakfast alone. Maybe I’ll get some time in the mornings to mentally prepare for my daily tribulations.

I’m out of questions and out of breakfast. I look to Khysmet expectantly, in case he has any more information or instructions he’d like to inflict upon me, but he’s getting out of his chair, so this conversation must be over.

“Let’s head to the great hall,” he says. “I have a surprise for you.”

There’s nothing that could instill more dread in me at this moment than that sentence coming from this person. Nevertheless, having no other choice, I stand and follow him out of the room.

******

The great hall is vast and well-lit by the morning sun streaming through massive stained glass windows. It's also well populated. There's a great number of people just milling about and talking. I still have yet to really meet any other members of the court, so I'm excited that I may have the opportunity now.

The excitement curdles into anxiety as the first few people who notice my presence stare openly and drop their voices to whisper amongst themselves. It's a pattern that continues as I follow Khysmet across the room. I'm trying to reassure myself that they're just surprised to see a human in the room, that it's just the typical gossip and rubbernecking that follows a novel development. But many of these glances are decidedly not friendly. I feel eyes cutting into me from every angle, but I keep my head as high as I can and stick close behind Khysmet's back.

He leads me over to a spot close to the edge of the room, on the side opposite the windows, and gestures to something that makes me forget the watching eyes immediately.

It's a pedal harp. Not just any harp either; my harp. The one I was sure I wouldn't see again for months. I'd recognize it anywhere; all the scratches and other damages that have occurred and then been repaired over the years of travel and use form an intricate pattern on the wood that can't possibly be replicated. I run my fingers over them reverently. If I close my eyes, I can pretend I'm still with my family, waiting onstage for the signal to start.

"I bought it off your director when I found out it wasn't already yours to take," Khysmet explains, interrupting my reverie. "Turns out, harps are an uncommon instrument in Veilsung, and it would take several weeks to have one delivered here."

I look back at him. He's watching me expectantly, his expression soft. I wonder if he knows the impact that this gesture has on me.

"Thank you," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "The harp is easily my best instrument. It's hard to move, though, so you may still want to source another if you want me to play it in a different room."

"Yes, well. I certainly want you at your best, so I may just do that. Anyway, go ahead and start now. If you need to take small breaks, do so at your discretion. I'll be over there." He gestures to a stately seat overlooking the room. "When the clock chimes eleven, follow me and I'll show you where I take my administrative meetings."

I nod my assent and sit down to play as he walks toward the back of the room to go sit in his fancy chair and do monarch things. Still not sure what that even means, but maybe I'll find out while I'm here.

Once again I feel the less-than-friendly attention of just about everybody in the room searing into my skin. I'm used to having lots of eyes on me when I'm performing, but rarely have I had an audience this hostile. I narrow my focus to only the strings in front of me, letting the background blur and fade. With a deep breath in, I get my fingers into position, then pluck an elaborate arpeggio up and down the full length of the strings with a long, centering breath out.

A hush falls over the room as the rich, layered tones reverberate through it. It doesn't last long, but the second of silence is unmistakable. I smile. Perfect. I have their attention on my own terms now. It may still be mostly hostile, but I can feel the air laced with at least a little bit of interest, of curiosity. I'll take what I can get.

I launch into one of my favorite songs, aiming to keep the volume low enough to not be distracting while still being loud enough to be heard from the whole room. It's rather soothing to just play whatever I feel like, with no one else whose tempo I would have to match. I can just space out and let my fingers dance across the strings of their own volition. It's so effortless that I even start to let my attention roam around the room, listening to conversations happening close enough or loud enough to be within earshot.

The trio nearest to me are having some sort of scientific discussion about the uses for different parts of a local species of cactus. They must be chemists, experts in the magical properties of substances and how to combine them to create potions with countless different effects. If they're part of the court, presumably receiving royal subsidies, they're probably doing some cutting-edge research. Sadly, I don't understand a lick of what they're talking about – it's mostly jargon. I try to take a mental picture so I can remember what they look like. I still want to know how we have running water at the top of a mountain, and they would be the people to ask.

I let my attention roam a bit further out and hear two women discussing the fidelity, or lack thereof, of some high-ranking minister. I smile to myself. There's no shortage of drama to be found anywhere, really, but especially not in a castle full of so many people who think themselves so important. I certainly won't want for entertainment here.

Then an accusatory voice rises up over the general background din, ringing out clear as day.

"I strongly object to this decision. How could you bring an outsider into this court, where she may bear witness to the inner machinations of our country's governance? Once she is released from your employ, she will invariably go and sell all our secrets to the highest bidder!"

I look to find the source of the voice, and see that it belongs to an elderly Sungian in elaborate robes planted firmly opposite the throne, upon which Khysmet is seated and looking rather unimpressed.

"She's not going to be bearing witness to anything of substance," Khysmet responds dryly. "Everything that occurs in this room each morning is a matter of public record. And we have entertainment brought in during dinner regularly, yet I've never heard you complain about that before."

I can't see my accuser's face, but I can see him shaking with rage.

"You're a fool if you can't see what a poor decision you're making here. Your new little pet," he spits the word out with force, "is nothing more than a rat you're letting loose in our larder."

Ouch. My fingers falter for a second, but I don't stop playing. I can't possibly pretend I'm not listening, but I certainly want to avoid showing weakness so publicly.

I watch as Khysmet straightens up in his seat and glares at this man, exuding cold authority.

"Your objection has been noted," he says in a tone of grave and absolute finality. "I don't particularly care to hear any further opinions on the matter. Is that all?"

The robed man harrumphs and turns on his heel, and I snap my head back around in front of me as fast as I can in the hopes he doesn't see I was watching the exchange. I don't particularly care to see the hatred in his eyes, which I'm sure are hurling daggers at the side of my head right now.

As grating as Khysmet's sovereign voice is, it's satisfying to hear him use it against someone else. I have a feeling calling me a pet is an accurate description of my position here, given that the only person that seems to want me here is Khysmet, and he essentially purchased me on a whim just for his "entertainment". At least my "master" has a vested interest in defending me. I can only hope that doesn't make me even more of a target…

Most of the conversation in the room has turned to me after that little spectacle, so I play some more technically challenging pieces in order to keep my mind more occupied. It helps.

Hours pass, and I'm zoned out completely, so much so that a hand that touches my shoulder makes me jump about twenty feet in the air. I whip my head around in a panic, but it's just Khysmet standing next to me, looking down at me calmly. He gestures with his head toward the door.

"It's eleven," he says simply. "Come with me."

I get up and follow obediently, eager to leave this room full of judgmental stares.

"I quite liked that, actually," Khysmet muses while I fall into step beside him. "The music helped me think, more so than I thought it would."

I shoot him a puzzling glance.

"Isn't that the reason you invited me here?"

Before I can really react, he reaches out a hand and pats me on the head as one might do to a lapdog.

"Of course it is," he says in a placating tone.

My blood simmers, and I move to swat him away, but he pulls away before I can make contact.

"I was thinking," he continues as though nothing happened, "this afternoon might be a good opportunity for you to familiarize yourself with the layout of the castle. If you need a guide," he grins ominously, "I would be happy to offer my services."

I try not to grimace at that prospect and fail miserably.

"I'm sure you have much better things to do with your time than to play tour guide for me all afternoon," I say, praying that it is true.

"I assure you," he insists, "I do not."

Ugh. I flounder for another excuse.

"Well," I say, "wouldn't it be better for me to start right now, rather than wait for two or three hours for you to finish with your meetings? I'm sure I can find someone to show me around."

He hums and shrugs, flicking his tongue. "I suppose so. Sad that I won't be enjoying the pleasure of your company this afternoon, but I'll survive."

I can't imagine my company would be all that pleasurable if I were to be forced to endure his for such a long period of time, but I don't contradict him. We soon arrive in a small sitting area at the juncture of three hallways, a large door set into the fourth wall.

"This is where I'd like you to wait for me in the afternoon. Today that's not necessary, but most days it will be. I'll endeavor to let you know in advance when it is not. Your room is not far down that way," he says and points down one of the hallways. "I trust that by the time seven rolls around, you will have found your way to the dining hall. Bring your lute, since we don't have anything set up for you there. Don't forget to eat."

The command in his tone is so irritating, and I can't repress the urge to be petulant.

"Yes, your majesty," I mutter sarcastically and do a little mock bow.

He smiles warmly and pats me on the head again. This time when I move to swat him away, he lets me.

"See you at seven," he says, and leaves me alone in the room.