To my utter delight, when I go back to my room, I find Vizsla there putting up new towels. I excitedly beg her to take me on a tour of the castle, and it seems that as my attending servant, my requests supersede her other duties. She's more than happy to show me around.

The castle is large and sprawling, but not too hard to navigate where the main rooms are concerned. I'll definitely be wanting to spend a lot of my free time exploring some of the more winding and convoluted offshoot hallways, though. Such an old castle must have a host of secret passageways to find.

Vizsla shows me the way to the main foyer, out to the stables, around dining rooms of various sizes, through two libraries, briefly into some ceremonial chambers, and down some hallways lined with the rooms of various nobles, including Khysmet's, which I hope I never need to remember how to locate. But most importantly of all, she shows me how to get to the kitchens.

The royal kitchen is huge and bustling, the air swirling with a cacophony of the most delectable scents I've ever had the pleasure of smelling. I know right away that I'll be spending a lot of my time here, provided I can manage to avoid being underfoot. The last thing I want is to bump into someone and get the contents of one of those burning pots and pans spilled all over me.

The cooks turn out to be extremely friendly, too. Despite my coming right at the end of lunch, and their being busy with cleanup, they are more than happy to scrounge up something for me to eat. They're not particularly polite, either, which I find to be extremely refreshing after spending all day overhearing people badmouth me in the most tactful ways possible. I ask as many of their names as I can, planning to go back to my room and add them to a notebook that I started last night.

Not long after the end of my tour, a young man approaches me with arms full of sheet music. I thank him and drag Vizsla with me back to my room so I can look it over.

"There's so many," I mutter while perusing the massive stack I've been handed. "I'm excited to have so many options, but I'd really like to pick out some of the most well-known songs to start with. Vizsla, could you help me out?

Vizsla has returned to working on the tasks that I interrupted earlier, but she happily puts them on hold again to help me pick out songs.

"For Want of the Moon is a pretty well-known folk song," she says, picking some pages out of the stack to hand to me. "Snake with a Thousand Tongues is popular, too. Oh! Beneath the Tomei River is one of my favorites!"

"Then you must sing it for me!" I command with a power stance and dramatic flourish, then pick a fancy lick across the strings of my lute.

She emits a flurry of laughter so nervous I would call it panicked and shakes her head vehemently.

"Not a chance, Cat. I barely sing when I'm alone. There's no way I'm singing in front of anyone else."

"Well how else am I supposed to know how it goes?" I throw up my hands in exaggerated exasperation.

"You have the music right in front of you!"

"What makes you think I know how to read this?"

The look she shoots me is positively withering, so I make a placating gesture and back off.

"Okay, okay. But I'm going to be sight reading here, so I might get some things wrong. If you hear me make any mistakes, feel free to correct me."

Sight reading is one of my more developed skills, but I of course still make mistakes. I make sure to add some extra ones in, though, and make the same ones over and over to try and goad her into singing.

Eventually, she can't help but correct my egregious errors. She is a lovely soprano, and while she's not always perfectly on key, her voice is absolutely haunting. Before long I have her laughing and dancing a little as she goes about her chores. She teaches me some other songs she knows, too, ones that I'm not sure I have in my stack of sheet music, and I'm having a lot of fun ad libbing some accompaniment.

"I have to go back and report to Mr. Marahk," Vizsla says a bit sadly when she finishes up. "It's getting close to dinner time, so you should head for the kitchen and get something to eat."

I groan and flop face-first onto the freshly made bed.

"Vizsla," I lament, "I don't want to go get glared at by a bunch of aristocratic wet blankets who hate my guts because I don't have a tail."

She looks at me with pity and tentatively pats me on the back.

"It'll be okay," she soothes. "Give it time – they'll come around to you eventually."

I sigh deeply. "I sure hope so. I've got enough to worry about with his majesty trying to think of as many ways as possible to piss me off."

Her hand pauses. Right away, I'm kicking myself for speaking ill of her king, but when she speaks again, she doesn't sound angry or tense.

"King Khysmet is not a cruel man, Cat. He might tease a bit, but he's not going to let anything happen to you."

"I… I believe you," I concede, though I'm still not completely sure I do. I sit up and heave a sigh. "I just wish he didn't get off so much on telling people what to do."

Vizsla blushes furiously at my comment, whether at its content or just at my sustained anger at Khysmet, I'm not sure.

"What do you mean?" she asks with genuine curiosity. "He's always been very kind to me, and to everyone who works here. I've never gotten the sense that he… that he likes giving orders all that much."

She doesn't see it then? I know it's not just me, but I'm not going to contradict her now.

"It must just be my imagination," I say. "Anyway, I'd better go eat." I grab my lute and head for the door. "Wish me luck!"

******

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

I show up, lute in hand, to the dining hall at seven, as instructed, and it’s already rather packed. The many tables across the very spacious room are overflowing with the most amazingly delicious food and drink – I know it’s amazingly delicious because I was just in the kitchen snagging some before it went out. And around all the delicious food sits the dozens of aristocratic wet blankets that I am going to have to talk to tonight.

Immediately, I run into the same problem as I did this morning. Everyone next to the door when I walk in looks at me like I am a piece of moldy cheese. The disgust pours off of them in waves. It’s palpable in the air, and I can already feel myself starting to choke on it. Though I have mixed feelings about the man, I find myself searching desperately for Khysmet amidst the crowd. He might be an asshole, but at least he doesn’t seem to viscerally and unilaterally hate me.

I spot him easily at a long, elevated table that spans most of the wall on the far side of the room. He’s staring straight at me, holding a wine glass in hand and waiting for me to meet his eye. When I do, he gestures with a slight tilt of his head to the empty seat to his left. An invitation that I am more than happy to take him up on. I try to walk at a natural and normal pace, not meeting anyone’s disgusted glares, focusing on the empty chair that is my goal. Walking around the back of Khysmet’s long table is the worst part, since most of the people there are old and well-dressed, which I’m pretty sure means they’re high ranking snobs like the guy who complained about me in the great hall. The hatred here is thicker than anywhere else.

When I sit down, though, Khysmet at least greets me warmly, seemingly indifferent to the vitriol radiating off of his nearby advisors. I note that he has pulled my chair closer to his own than to its neighbor on the other side.

“How was your tour this afternoon?” he asks.

“It was nice," I reply somewhat hesitantly. "I had Vizsla show me around.”

“Sad I missed out on it," he laments. "Oh well, I’ll have plenty of opportunities to spend afternoons in your company during the coming months. Did you get the sheet music you wanted?”

“Yeah, I did," I say. "There’s definitely a lot of it to sift through. I'll have my work cut out for me trying to memorize as much as I can. I've practiced a couple songs already, after we finished the tour.”

“Well," he says with an encouraging gesture, "let’s hear it, then.”

I scoff. “You sure? I might have picked up the melodies, but I guarantee I’m going to butcher the lyrics.”

“I am dying to hear your renditions, Miss Catarina," he purrs.

I squint at him. I can't tell if he's being sarcastic or not. Even if he isn't… I glance around the room for a second. I don't think that anyone here wants any additional reminder that I even exist. I know that this is the reason that I'm here, but I can't help but hesitate at the thought of bringing more hostile attention upon myself.

"Don't pay attention to anyone else," Khysmet commands authoritatively, drawing my eyes back to him. "Only look at me. I don't care if there's somebody out there that doesn't want to hear it. I want to hear you play for me."

My face heats up a bit at his words. Part of me is mentally deriding him for how egocentric that demand is. The other part is grateful for the encouragement I so desperately needed. Both parts are flushing under the intensity of his gaze. I sigh and shrug.

"Okay," I concede, "but you have to correct me when I get the words wrong."

"I can do that."

I launch into the intro to Beneath the Tomei River – since Vizsla loves it so much, we went over it a few more times than most of the others, so I figure I'm less likely to embarrass myself with it. Khysmet smiles and eats, quietly listening to my rendition of a Veilsung classic. Sometimes he makes gentle corrections to my half-remembered lyrics. He does not sing, though. I wonder what his singing voice is like, and if I could ever possibly convince him to let me hear it like I did with Vizsla. Somehow I doubt it.

He has me play a couple other songs I learned today, but I remember even less of those lyrics, so he soon asks me to play some of my favorite songs for him, a request that I readily fulfill, happy to slip into my comfort zone a little. He asks me questions about the pieces I play for him, where they came from and what some of the more vague lyrics mean. He's being unusually kind, possibly sensing my unease and taking pity on me. It's odd, but I don't mind.

Twice during my performance, the long table shakes, causing all the plates and glasses to clatter with the vibrations from an advisor slamming his hands on the table and storming off. I falter in my playing, but I try to follow Khysmet's advice (choosing to think of it as advice rather than the command it actually was) and just keep focusing on him. It helps.

Khysmet does not stay at dinner for very long. Maybe half an hour, max. When he gets up and motions for me to come with, the dining hall is still nearly full. I imagine that dinners can run pretty late, with free-flowing alcohol and so many people to talk to. It probably gets pretty rowdy later on. I'm glad we leave before then.

When we're alone in the hallway outside the dining hall doors, he makes a suggestion.

"I might," he says, "have you abstain from performing at dinner after all. At least until the unrest at your presence has died down. Should some of the more outspoken members of my court have a bit too much to drink, you may find yourself a target of their… unpleasantness."

I sigh and rub my arms self-consciously, grateful that he's giving me a pass for the near future.

"You really think it will die down?" I ask.

He nods reassuringly. "I know it will. You may never be the most popular person in the castle, but most people don't hate your presence so much as they're just interested in salacious rumors."

I hum and bite my lip. Salacious rumors, huh? I guess that makes sense.

"Allow me to walk you to your room," Khysmet insists, and I nod and walk with him. "I don't think it's entirely necessary, but I'd like to have a guard tasked with watching you when I'm not available. I'd rather not take any chances."

"What makes you think a guard will have any warmer regard for me than anyone in your court?" I ask.

He snorts. "I do get regular reports from my serving staff, Miss Catarina. According to my butler, Marahk, you seem to already be ingratiating yourself to just about everyone who works here. Even my driver likes you, and he's as taciturn as they come. I'll be selective about the guard I assign to you, but I have no doubt you'll be on their good side within a day or two."

The corners of my mouth twitch up. Felix does like me? That's wonderful to hear. I wasn't sure if I just pissed him off with all my chatter.

Khysmet stops outside my door and watches me as I open it.

"You know, it's still rather early to be going to bed," he says. "If you want some company, I'd be happy to offer mine."

I flush a deep red at the suggestion, deeper with how closely he's watching my reaction.

"No, I think I'd just like to take an extremely long bath, then head to bed. It's been a long day."

He hums and flicks his tongue out. "I wouldn't mind a bath, too. You sure you don't want company?

My mouth goes dry. "Positive."

He shrugs. "Just thought I'd offer. You should come try my bathtub sometime, though. It's much bigger. Goodnight, Miss Catarina."

"G- Goodnight."

I duck through my door so fast I almost slam it.

Every hair on my body is standing on end. What the hell was that? Sure we’ve had about seven total seconds of sexual tension between us, but isn’t inviting me to bathe with him a bit much? It takes a long time for my hackles to lower after that one. I keep thinking about it so much that I can't enjoy my own bath and have to cut it short. He was so kind to me during dinner that it started to raise my estimation of him a little bit, but evidently he's right back to fucking with me when it suits him. It's giving me whiplash.

This first day wasn't so horrible, aside from being viscerally hated for a few hours, but I can't help but think that part of the reason it was okay was just because I didn't have to deal with Khysmet that much. Unfortunately, I'm not going to get that lucky every day. I sigh as I think about it. I have a lot of headaches to look forward to during the next six months.