My open-topped carriage truhrough 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 lohaire 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 tract 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. Sihey'll be ba 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 ge. Suzanne saw through me, though.

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

  I ughed ftly, not meeting her eyes in the hopes that it might help miay dry.

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

  Suzaook both my hands io force me to look at her. "Well there's no possible way that your worst fears could happen, then, because you're the frie 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 pying her reassuring words over in my mind now as I fidget in my seat. I don't know how much longer I sit still on this ride. I stare at the back of the driver's head and start to pte how to best strike up a versation 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 get. Plus, I'm so nervous I don't know if I 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 manage. I take a deep breath and tap him on the shoulder. He jumps and turns around to look at me with fusion.

  "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 suy ay 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 manibsp; "Do you mind if I sit o you?"

  I practically see the wheels turning in his brain as he thinks of how best to say no. Eventually, though, he moves over to make spad offers a hand to help me cmber over the back of the bench to sit beside him. Once I'm seated fortably, I ehe onsught.

  "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 nonittally. "I like it fine."

  I wait for him to eborate 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 versational 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 w breeds."

  I pause in case he wants to ent 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 ugh without any apanying ge in expression. "Not particurly, no."

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

  I tio pester him the whole way, saying any asihing 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 lohough.

  When we pull up before the frorance, 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 ahem dowo me.

  "Thank you for the ride, Mr. Felix. And for the pany," I say to him as he climbs bato 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 pig up my lute case and bag.

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

  "Begging your pardon, miss, but I'm just carrying out orders," she responds, keeping them out of my reabsp; "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 bae 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.

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

  I follow her inside, more than a little fused. I'm not sure what I expected to be met with when I arrived, but I certainly didn't expey 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, sihere's so maiful tapestries and iing 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 dispy in the king's castle must be some of the best art the try has to offer. And this is only what's in the hallways.

  Well, I'm going to be here a while, so I suppose I always e back ter.

  "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 iep, shooting an odd gnce back at me, but she doesn't stop.

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

  "o meet you, Miss Sahresh. Looking forward t 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 bd e stripes is Sahresh. There's no way there won't be many more o 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 es to a stop in front of a beautiful oak door with subtle silver inys. She knocks before opening it, aures 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 he entrance, and past it a couple chairs in front of a stately desk, behind which sits someone I reize. 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 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 trol over my life in accordah his every whim… is this asshole? And even though he wasn't too awful st night, this entire sario plus his little opening speech here is defiipping the scales further towards "asshole" in my mind. The numbers on that tract I signed suddenly seem muall in light of this development.

  "Sorry for sending the carriage for you," he tinues, sauntering around his desk and ing 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 iment."

  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 dibsp; My irritation is mounting at an unpreted rate. I'm finding it impossible to think of a sihing 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 meeting."

  "I'm ecstatic," I say ftly, voice dripping in sarcasm. "I was just lost in thought trying to figure out what I could have possibly doo 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 musi in my court."

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

  "Retribution?" he chuckles. He's getting more smug with every passing sed, 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 beien by a bear right now, for example. Or dying of dysentery."

  "I'm gd you see it my way. By the end of your stay here, you'll be sh me with thanks fing you here."

  I'm on the verge of hyperventiting 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 stantly over the six months at minimum, I '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 trol I have a my aake the wheels pletely.

  Then I remember that this man is not only going to be irritating for the six months, but he is also going to have plete trol over every aspey 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 to make sure he doesn't feel like it.

  I have to learn to choke down every urge to talk bad to stifle every emotion I might have. My safety is entirely depe on that ability. Maybe if I'm lucky, I make myself so pletely bnd and uing that he'll fet I eve most of the time.

  Sheer y helps me find a new ter of calm and humility within myself. I take a deep breath, y eyes, and bow deeply.

  "Thank you for seleg me to serve you and your court," I say in a voice devoid of any maliotion. "I look forward to the months I will spend w 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 ges so abruptly it's giving me whipsh, 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 w for me. You haven't been disho with me yet, and if you want to stay in my good graces, I suggest you keep it that way."

  If he was rubbihe wrong way before now, this is more like ceratih 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 sed ago but whiow reminds of a particurly 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 holy think you're being a plete and total asshole," I snarl at him with the full fory uered 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, oher hand, looks like I've just said exactly what he wao hear, if the shit-eating grin that splits his face is any indication. His eyes rove over my face, bright red and torted in defiance as it is, seeming to revel in my anger. Then he proffers his hand for me to shake.

  "Wele 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 t 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 band 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 thao meet his gaze. His expression has softened, but his eyes are intense on mine, and his bergamot and mahogany st 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 seds before evaporates into thin air, repced with fusion and something uifiable 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 iny skin, especially the points of tact between us. His palm is so cool and dry, yet satiny smooth against my own, and his chest is firm and unyielding uhe 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 fabsp; 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 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 sts a few seds, the air around us frozen in a sort of limbo. Then he shatters the silence abruptly.

  "Please esiss Catarina to her chambers," he calls out without breaking eye tact with me. Presumably, he's addressing Sahresh, who must still be standihe 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 tact while he finally lets my hand slip out of his.

  Eventually, I'm the first to look away. It definitely feels like a cession, 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 theures for me to follow her once more, which I do promptly. As I walk out the door, I refuse to look back.