Chapter 27

I end up getting really excited for Prince Akharos’s visit. Mostly because I want to get started making progress with my encoded page, but also because Khysmet repeatedly goes on and on about how great he is and how much I'm going to like him. If Khysmet's words are to be believed, he might even turn out to be the first member of the ruling class besides himself that actually likes me, which would be kind of nice.

Akharos is coming from his castle in Elkhara where he rules over the province of Soleng, along with his wife, Lady Yliana. Their three children are staying home, even the one that was only born a month ago. That sort of surprises me, but evidently since Sungian babies don’t require milk from their mother, it’s easier for them to withstand periods of separation at an early age. Either that, or it’s a royalty thing where they can just offload their children onto governesses and nursemaids. I'm not really sure.

When Akharos and Yliana arrive, I’m with Khysmet in his office, plucking a complicated tune with intricate counterpoint on the new pedal harp he had brought in for my use in smaller spaces. The door opens and a servant announces their arrival, then shows them in.

Akharos looks quite similar to Khysmet, dark gray with yellow markings, though the yellow is less pronounced on him. He’s a bit taller, though less broad, and his penetrating eyes are more of an orange than red. However, it’s the way he carries himself – dignified, back straight and chest out with stately authority – that makes their relation immediately clear.

Before he’s even through the door, Khysmet has set down whatever he’s working on at his desk and is quickly striding across the room to greet him. About two seconds after he enters the room, Khysmet pulls him into a tight embrace, patting him on the back with significant force.

“Welcome home, little brother,” he says. “It’s been too long.”

Akharos hesitantly returns the hug, albeit with much less vigor.

“Nice to see you too, Khysmet,” he says, a bit stiffly, but with a hint of genuine warmth.

Khysmet releases him and moves on to his wife, a striking woman, bright yellow with cream markings and icy blue eyes.

“Lady Yliana,” he greets, opting for a very enthusiastic handshake rather than a hug for her. “Always a pleasure to welcome you to the castle.”

She smiles coolly. “The pleasure’s all mine, as always.”

Then Khysmet turns to me and waves me over eagerly. I walk across the room to stand beside him, and he puts a hand on the center of my back, the overt familiarity of his touch making me blush a tiny bit, and gestures to me.

“This is Catarina,” he says as though introducing someone of great import. He doesn’t take his hand off my back.

I put on a winning smile and curtsey deeply. “It’s nice to meet you, Prince Akharos,” I say. I curtsey again. “Lady Yliana.”

Akharos steps up to me and takes my hand in both of his, shaking it warmly.

“Lovely to meet you, Miss Catarina. With everything Khysmet has told me about you, I feel as though I know you already.”

“How was your trip? Took you long enough to get here. You better have run into trouble on the way, or else I might think you just weren’t eager to see me,” Khysmet teases. He’s still touching me, his hand having migrated to my lower back now. It’s starting to get a little embarrassing. I’m no stranger to public displays of affection, but this feels different somehow, maybe because of the way Akharos is watching us closely with an unreadable expression on his face.

“There was a little matter I had to sort out before we could leave, that’s all,” Akharos replies. “The trip itself was uneventful. Long, though, as always. Yliana and I are going to head to our room and get settled. Just wanted to drop by and let you know we’re here.”

“We’ll see you at dinner then,” Khysmet says. “Try not to be late for that, at least, okay Akh?”

Akharos sighs. “Please don’t call me that. See you at seven.”

He and Yliana take their leave, and once they’re gone, I let go of an odd tension in my body that I didn’t realize I was holding. I must be more nervous about making a good first impression than I thought. I’m sort of glad that this first meeting was so brief.

Khysmet heaves a warm, happy sigh and plonks down heavily on the couch, resting his arms on the back of it.

“I love when he comes to visit,” he says dreamily. “He’s my favorite person to torture. Wait, sorry,” he corrects himself, “second favorite. You’re on the top of the list now, sunshine.”

“Gee, thanks,” I say, rolling my eyes and going to sit beside him. “I was really worried about keeping my spot.”

"Watch out for his wife, by the way,” he warns. “For reasons I can't begin to fathom, she hates me."

I snort. "I don't know, I think if you tortured someone I care about as much as you do to me, I might hate you too."

"Aww, are you saying you don't hate me now, gorgeous?"

Gorgeous? That's new. Seeing his brother has put him in a really good mood.

"I only hate you a little now,” I say with a smirk. “Don’t get cocky about it.”

“Cocky? Me? Never.”

******

It feels odd to sit down to dinner instead of snagging it from the kitchen. I don’t even have to play music if I don’t feel like it, though there’s a harp in the room in case the mood strikes me. We’re in a private dining room just like the one used when the Marquess’s family visited. Khysmet is beside me, with Akharos and Yliana across from us, leaving the head of the table empty. It strikes me as an odd arrangement, but when I question Khysmet about it beforehand, he informs me he can sit wherever he pleases, and if I don’t want to sit next to him, I’m welcome to sit in his lap instead, an invitation that I immediately turn down.

Up until now, I’ve never seen Khysmet relax around anyone else but me, but he’s positively ebullient around his brother. He’s laughing and joking, happy as a clam and completely at ease. It’s kind of nice to witness him targeting someone else with his nonsense for once, though I’m not exactly exempt from his teasing either.

Akharos is a calm, intelligent, and dignified man. He’s soft-spoken and serious, and he doesn’t rise to his brother’s incensing remarks easily. I feel like I click with him immediately, or maybe he’s just generally easy to talk to. He asks me a lot of questions, about my past and my interests, the places I’ve visited, what I think of Veilsung and of Dimos. I try to return the favor as much as possible, asking about his current home in Elkhara, his children, any traveling he’s done, and all his different hobbies.

“I understand you found the tunnel you were looking for,” Akharos mentions.

"Yes, I did," I say eagerly. "Thank you for the list of places to check out, by the way, it ended up being very helpful, especially the areas you ruled out. You’ll never guess where it actually is, though.”

“It wasn’t on the list at all?”

I shake my head.

“Then I have no clue.”

“It’s in the basement next to the water tower.”

He furrows his brow. “There’s no way. All that’s down there are some supply closets and the wall of the tower itself, and I’ve checked those closets very thoroughly.”

I’m practically climbing out of my seat with excitement to relay this information that I’ve been keeping secret from almost everyone.

“There’s a second tower built around the water tower, like a sleeve around an arm, for maintenance reasons,” I explain, gesturing with my hands to help elucidate my point. “In the tower wall, there’s a hidden door. Very well hidden. Just a tiny indent in the wall to show where the handle is.”

“You’re kidding,” he says incredulously.

“You know, it only took her two weeks to find it, Akh,” Khysmet breaks in. “How long did you have to find it again? Twenty-five years?”

“I never would have guessed there was anything in the north tower besides water,” Akharos says, ignoring Khysmet completely. “I figured if there was something in that area, the entrance would be nearby, not in the tower wall itself.”

“Me too. I thought there might be a chance I would just drown or something if I tried to actually go into the tower,” I continue, “but then I noticed the door swings outward, so there couldn’t be water right behind it or the castle would be flooded.”

“Well I’ll be damned.”

“Brave and smart,” Khysmet says, rubbing my head needlessly hard. “Isn’t she amazing?”

I slap his hand away. “Cut it out.”

“You should see the maps she’s made of the tunnels,” he goes on. “They’re so intricate, and scarily accurate. No idea how she did it, since everything down there looks exactly the same.”

“I would love to see them,” Akharos says. “You’ll have to show me tomorrow.”

I blush at the overt praise, suddenly self-conscious. “They’re not all that impressive. Took a lot of hard work, sure, but they're nothing fancy.”

“Don’t be modest, sunshine. Not just anyone could have done that, you know, especially not in just a month.”

I flush darker when Khysmet uses his little nickname for me, something he hasn’t done in front of anyone else before now. He goes on, ignorant of my embarrassment.

“She’s an incredible musician, too. I know I’ve told you about it, but you really need to hear her play. It’s unbelievable.”

Akharos sighs and, unexpectedly, comes to my defense.

“Quit picking on her, Khysmet,” he says sternly. “You’re being an ass.”

Khysmet looks at him with genuine shock on his face. “What are you talking about?” he says. “I’m not picking on her.”

He turns to face me. “Am I picking on you?”

The earnestness in his expression actually makes me laugh – not just a scoff either, but a real laugh. He’s seriously asking me that? For real? That might be the funniest thing he's ever said to me. I’m unable to suppress my amused smile when I answer him.

“Only every single second of every single day,” I say.

He holds my gaze for a while, seemingly thinking about it, and eventually shrugs and tilts his head as if to say "Yeah, you've got a point there."

Then his expression softens for a second. "You really should play something though," he says in a quieter voice. "You know, if you feel up to it. I can't help it. I want to show you off."

I hum thoughtfully, as though considering it. "I don't know, are you going to keep being an ass?"

"Only every single second of every single day," he vows reverently.

I smirk. “Then the best I can give you is a ‘maybe’.”

He smirks back. “I’ll take what I can get.”

I turn back from our little sidebar and jump a tiny bit. Akharos is watching our interaction with his head cocked, expression inscrutable. Yliana, who has been very quiet through the whole dinner, barely speaking even when addressed directly, is staring with an expression that could best be classified as distaste. I feel like I was just caught in the middle of doing something indecent. I stare down at my plate and go back to eating in the hopes of hiding how red my face probably is.

The conversation moves on after that, and Khysmet stops extolling my accomplishments, though every time I look at him, he's staring at me. Once dinner is over, I do end up taking a seat at the harp while Khysmet and Akharos talk in the sitting area about topics more related to running the country than I really know enough to participate in. I pick the most technically difficult songs I'm capable of playing well and show off for a while. It’s taking up most of my concentration, such that it takes me a moment to realize that Akharos has gotten off his chair and approached me.

“I’ve never actually heard the harp played before,” he comments, making me jump. “It’s quite beautiful. And your mastery of it is impressive.”

“Thank you,” I say warmly, transitioning as seamlessly as possible to an easier song so that I can play and talk at the same time. “I don’t know if I would go so far as to call my abilities ‘mastery’, but it is easily my best instrument.”

“What other instruments do you play?”

“It would probably be easier to list the instruments I don’t play,” I say, trying not to sound too boastful of the fact. “Although, now that I think of it, there are probably a host of traditional instruments from Veilsung that I haven’t tried to pick up yet.”

“Ooh, I’ve always loved the sound of the talam,” Khysmet comments from where he’s reclining comfortably in a loveseat. “I haven’t heard it in a long time.”

I lean around Akharos to address him directly. “Then buy me one. I’m sure I’ll figure it out.”

“Yes ma’am,” he replies with a wry smile.

I turn back to Akharos, who is once again watching our interaction with a mild yet searching look. I try not to be put off by it this time.

“Are you much of a music lover, Prince Akharos?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I’ve always found music to be a bit of a frivolous pursuit. I enjoy it, but I don’t really seek it out.”

I can’t help but laugh at his response, a delighted giggle that bubbles out of me unbidden.

“What’s so funny?” Akharos asks with a furrowed brow.

“That’s almost the exact answer your brother gave me when I asked him that question,” I explain with a broad grin.

He cocks his head. “Is that so?”

I nod. “So I’m going to give you the same response that I did to him.” I turn my head and focus on my hands, plucking my notes carefully while I say this. “All art is frivolity, and it’s also the entire point of living. If you’re unwilling to pursue beauty for its own sake and engage in activities for the sheer joy of experiencing the full breadth of what this world has to offer, then you might as well be a shuffling corpse, stumbling through life without truly living it.”

I turn back to give him a winning smile. His expression is once again unreadable, and he turns his head a little to glance back at Khysmet when he speaks his reply.

“Yes,” he says, “I certainly see what you mean.”