Chapter 34:

Chapter 34

The Serpent King - Book 1


It’s strange not to be part of the show. I offered to help with setup, but I was told over and over not to worry about it, so instead I just follow people around and talk. It's been an eventful half-year for everyone, and I'm happy to have the chance to get caught up on all the news and drama that has gone on, but being shooed away from the actual work makes me feel oddly left out. No one is treating me any differently, but I still get this sense that I'm very obviously not part of the group anymore. I try not to dwell on this too much when I head back to my room so Vizsla can help me change into something fancy enough that I don't look out of place tonight in the ballroom.

I don't entirely know what I’m going to do during the concert. Previously, as a member of the troupe, I would never know anybody in the crowd, so going in and finding someone to dance with was always the same level of awkward. Here, though, in this huge room, I know for a fact that about a third of its occupants will know and hate me. The other two thirds are coming in from elsewhere, though. Maybe I could take a risk. I'm not overly keen on the idea, though. I might find somewhere to sit on the edges of the room and just listen.

When the Warblers start warming up for the night, I wander away so I'm not interrupting anyone's focus. The ballroom is still mostly empty, the doors not having been open to everyone yet. I start to sort of mill about the room, listening to the cacophony of instruments playing out of sync with each other, mentally picking out who is out of tune and listening as they twist a peg or adjust a mouthpiece to correct it. I don't even notice Khysmet standing in front of me until I practically run into him.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asks.

"I… don't really know," I admit hesitantly. "I don't really feel like dancing tonight. I was just going to find somewhere to sit down for the night."

"So sit next to me," he invites. "As usual, I have to sit in a fancy chair away from everyone else instead of joining the festivities. The seat next to mine would be just as fine a place to sit as any other in the room."

My face heats up at the offer. It was one thing to sit next to him in a private room when I joined him in the arena. This, however, is about as public as it gets. I look to the back wall at the chair he's talking about. It's a throne on a platform elevated eight feet up, clearly visible from anywhere in the room. I sigh. The alternative is sitting alone in the corner, and to be honest, I don't really want to be alone right now. I look back at Khysmet and nod slightly. He cups my cheek in his hand and briefly presses his muzzle against my forehead, then walks off to arrange for an additional chair to be set beside the throne on the platform.

When I get up on the platform and look at my little chair that matches in color scheme with the throne, I wonder briefly if I'm supposed to be sat a certain distance away from Khysmet for the sake of propriety, but I figure my presence up here is already improper enough and just go ahead and drag my chair so close I could whisper in his ear if I wanted to. He looks happy as a clam to have me so near. The Warblers are set up in the far corner from where I am, and the ballroom is huge, so I can't really see the expressions on anyone's faces, but I see several of them pointing at me at one point or another. I can't even imagine the sorts of comments I'm going to get from them after this.

When guests start coming in, they come up in front of Khysmet and bow before joining the festivities, sometimes talking to him briefly. I get a lot of odd looks, and several nasty ones. A few months ago I would have been so intimidated by the hate-filled glares aimed at me. Now, however, when someone curls their lip at me in disgust, I grin sweetly, kick my feet, and lean pointedly on Khysmet’s armrest, staring them down and daring them to do something about it.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself,” Khysmet comments with a raised brow.

“I’m sick of these people looking at me like I’m a bug in their soup,” I say. “If they were able to do anything about my presence here, they already would have, so why should I be intimidated? If there weren’t people whose opinions I actually care about in the room, I’d be sitting in your lap.”

He grins. “I love the confidence. I thought you might be more uncomfortable sitting up here in front of everyone.”

“I am,” I admit. “I’m just not planning on letting these fuckers know about it.”

When there’s no one to look down on smugly, I get to just sit back and listen. My heart swells listening to the music I’ve been steeped in my entire life. I can clearly pick out the familiar sounds of Portia’s extra flourishes on her violin, the rich low notes of Jean’s bassoon, and Yuxuan’s crisp and clean flute trills. I missed this so much. I wish I was playing with them.

But as I listen, there’s also a sort of hollow pit gradually forming in my chest. Because in every single song I can clearly pick out my own part, now being covered on another instrument. My beautiful countermelodies, several of which I helped write – they have all been taken up by someone new. The more I listen, the more I feel the knife twisting in my gut. The spot I left vacant has been filled up so quickly that it’s like I was never even there.

“You’ve gone rather quiet,” Khysmet says, piercing through the darkening cloud of my thoughts. “Is something wrong?”

I bite my lip, trying to think about how to articulate my bittersweet thoughts.

“It’s just strange to hear these songs without a harp, I suppose,” I say. “But my parts are being covered, so fortunately, it doesn’t really sound like anything’s missing.”

He cocks his head and gives me a searching look. “Fortunately?”

I fiddle with the fabric of my dress, not looking him in the eye. “Yeah,” I say. “I wouldn’t want the troupe to sound incomplete without me. That would be selfish.”

Khysmet hums thoughtfully. “It probably wouldn't sound incomplete to me if I’d never heard it before, but I liked it better with the harp. I definitely got the best part of the ensemble.”

His compliment makes me smile just a little, just for a second. “I feel sort of… superfluous, is all. I know that just because someone else can take my part doesn’t mean that I’m replaceable. It sort of still feels that way, though.”

“You’re not worried that they wouldn’t have a place for you if you decide to rejoin, are you?”

“No." I sigh deeply. "Just a little wounded by how quickly they seem to have moved on from my absence.”

“Cat, it hasn’t been quick. It’s been six months. And they haven’t moved on. I talked to several of your friends during setup and they all expressed how much they missed you.”

I look back up to find him leaned toward me, elbow propped on his armrest, staring with an earnest and troubled expression. His concern for me is quite touching. I know how much he wants me to stay here, and it would be really easy to use this moment of emotional weakness to try and convince me that I would be better off not going back to the Warblers, but he’s not. I smile up at him gratefully.

“Thanks for not trying to comfort me by saying something like, ‘You’re not replaceable to me, sunshine’,” I say.

He chuckles. "That's a good impression of me."

"Thank you.”

"Also, you're not replaceable to me,” he clarifies, his expression turning serious. “But that's just because you're not replaceable to anyone."

My heart squeezes a little at that. "You think so?" I ask.

He nods earnestly. "I know so."

"You're sweet."

I lean in the rest of the way to meet him, making sure I aim for the side of his head facing away from the crowd, and press a soft kiss into his cheek. I feel like he earned one. When I pull away, he's wearing an extra-self-satisfied grin. He sits back in his chair, fingers steepled, looking very content and proud of himself.

“By the way,” he says. “What do you think your punishment should be for insulting my sexual prowess in front of your friends?”

I groan and roll my eyes. I wish I could say that I’m surprised that the second he feels he’s done something right and made me happy, he immediately wants to ruin it.

“I don’t deserve a punishment,” I say. “You were asking for it by putting me on the spot like that.”

“I was asking for that, huh?”

“Yeah, pretty much. You can’t honestly tell me you expected me to gush over you while you were staring me down, can you?”

“I was hoping you would get all cute and shy,” he says, looking quite self-indulgent. “I forgot to factor in that you wouldn't be as easy to embarrass in front of people you know well. I got there eventually, though. Your face was so red when I mentioned how wet you get for me."

Ugh. I put my head in my hands. "Please don't try so hard to embarrass me in front of the rest of my family,” I beg. “Please?"

"Promise me you won't describe my dick as 'tiny' in future conversations with your friends?"

I snort. "There's no reason for me to lie about your dick size if you're not around to be insulted by it."

"Then I promise I'll behave."

"And no punishment," I demand.

"Fine. No punishment this time," he concedes.

I enjoy spending the next few hours watching the fancily dressed people dance around, listening to the familiar music, and talking to Khysmet. Despite the fact that I’m on display on a raised dais, on the whole, it’s pretty relaxing. The evening passes quickly and relatively comfortably, and it feels like it’s hardly been any time before the guests start trickling out of the ballroom. When the Warblers start wrapping up, the room is almost empty. I bid Khysmet good night and run off to intercept Portia and Suzanne. I somehow manage to secure permission from Eliza to let me steal them away before the take down is finished, and I lead them down through the hallways to my room.

“So who’s this guy?” Portia asks, gesturing at Rhys who is following not far behind us. “He’s cute.”

“That’s Rhys,” I say, “and please do not sexually harass him, Portia. Because of how many people in the castle hate me, Khysmet wanted a guard to follow me around in case someone tries something, so he assigned Rhys to me. And now we’re best friends.”

I flash Rhys a winning smile. He is bright pink, clearly not a fan of all the attention on him.

“Nice to meet you, Rhys,” Suzanne says warmly, proffering her hand for him to shake. “I’m Suzanne.”

He hesitantly shakes her hand and nods. “Nice to meet you, too.”

“The king literally has someone following you around?” Portia asks. “That’s kind of fucked up. Does he give him like, reports on what you’re doing all the time?”

I blink and furrow my brow. That's a good question. I didn’t think twice about Khysmet’s motivations when he first suggested a guard for me. Maybe I should have.

“I don’t know,” I say. “Do you, Rhys?”

“I– I mean,” Rhys stutters, “sometimes he asks what you got up to during the day, but nothing specific.”

“Still creepy,” Portia maintains. “That’s a point against him in my book.”

“I don’t know,” I say, “I got attacked once in public when the guard assigned to me – not Rhys that time – lost track of me in a crowd. Got dragged into an alley and everything.”

“Uh oh,” Suzanne says with a grin. “I hate to think of what must have happened to that guy.”

I giggle darkly. “If he had lived, he would have had a hard time ever reproducing again.”

Before we head into my room, I make sure to turn back to Rhys and reassure him that I’m not worried about him spying on me. He looks relieved to hear it and thanks me before taking his leave.

When we step through the door, I hear a low whistle from Portia.

“Nice digs, Cat,” she says. “You seriously get to live like this?”

“You should go check out the bathroom,” I advise while I start to strip out of my fancy ballroom dress and change into a nightgown. “They have a potion that lets me take a hot bath every single night. And there’s a room just like this ready for each of you to stay in tonight.”

Suzanne takes a running leap and flops down on the bed.

“Holy shit this is comfy,” she says, voice muffled against the sheets. “And huge.”

“Do you have a pencil and paper?” Portia asks from the bathroom. “I’m going to start a pros and cons list for you about staying here.”

I grab a notebook for her.

“Cons:” she says aloud while writing, “he has you followed like a controlling freak.” She walks across the room and flops down on the couch. “Pros: hot baths, huge beds.”

Suzanne gets up from the bed to come curl up into a big armchair. “Pros,” she says, “great in bed. Might as well get that one out of the way.”

“Cons,” Portia says, “brags to your face and in front of people he’s never met that he’s good in bed. I mean, what the fuck was that about, Cat?”

I opt to just sit down on the rug with my back against the couch, settling down with a sigh.

“Well,” I say, “I’m pretty sure he spends most of his free time thinking of new ways to get under my skin. And he’s also completely shameless. I’m relatively tough to embarrass, so he’s always trying five times as hard.”

“So he’s always doing that kind of thing? Trying as hard as he can to embarrass you?”

“More or less. Either trying to embarrass me or trying to piss me off.”

“Uh huh,” Portia says. “Remind me why you like this guy at all? I don’t know if you’ve even mentioned that yet.”

I groan and rub my temples with my fingers. “Really hard to explain. Strictly speaking, I don’t think I’ve ever admitted out loud that there is anything I like about him at all.”

“Well the ‘pros’ side of this list is going to be difficult to fill out, then,” Suzanne says with a wry smile. “You might as well admit the things you like about him here. You know neither of us will let it leave this room.”

I screw up my face in disgust at the very thought. She’s right, though. I tap my fingers rhythmically on my arm while I reach deep inside myself for a genuine compliment to give him. I take a deep breath, in and out, and chew on my lip, suddenly feeling very vulnerable.

“I guess…” I start tentatively. “Whenever there’s something bothering me – besides himself, that is – he’s unusually kind. I was out of my mind with worry for two weeks since you guys were late coming back to the city, and he didn’t leave my side the whole time. He’s been like that since the first day I came here.”

“Pros: sometimes kind,” Portia reads briefly. “Let’s have another con.”

“You know, for the con list,” I suggest, “you should write the words ‘arrogant asshole’ at least five times, because that really covers several of my problems.”

Portia nods. “I’ll write it really big and underline it.”

“That works.”

“What else do you like about him?” Suzanne prompts.

I sigh and stare at the floor. “He… never asks me to hold back or hide anything about myself. He wants to hear my every unfiltered thought, even when I’m thinking about what an arrogant asshole he is. Especially then.”

“You know, I think to help you make this decision, I need to see you two interact more,” Portia says with an eager grin. “It caught me off guard earlier, but the more I think about it the more I realize that it was deeply hilarious. I want a front row seat to observe your relationship.”

I snort. “You’re more than welcome to join us for breakfast tomorrow. I’ll tell him to be extra incendiary. I’m begging you not to bring up or engage with him on anything about our sex life, though. As you witnessed earlier, he’s more than willing to get nasty with very little prompting, and I really don't want to listen to a blow by blow recounting of one of our sexual encounters first thing in the morning.”

“You know, for a king, he's shockingly vulgar," Suzanne comments. "I was not expecting that."

"Not around anyone else, he's not," I correct. "In front of the rest of the castle, he's always regal and eloquent. I get special treatment."

"Is 'extremely vulgar' a pro or a con?" Portia asks.

"It's sort of neutral. He uses it for good and for evil."

"I'm going to add 'punchable face' to the cons side," she says. "That smug little smile he had on his face when he started really getting into it with you… When I saw it, I immediately thought, 'Wow. I want to punch this guy.' You know what I mean, right Cat?"

My face splits into a wide grin, because I can immediately picture the exact face she's talking about, and she's so right. I look down and fiddle with the fabric of my skirt, giggling a tiny bit to myself. "Yeah, you're right. He's extremely punchable."

Suzanne suddenly sits up ramrod straight and gives me a very intense look.

"What?" I ask.

"This entire exercise is completely moot," she declares. "You're head over heels for this guy. Stay here forever and have his babies."

I furrow my brow and look at her in disbelief. "Why is it moot?"

"You did the laugh," she explains.

"What are you talking about? What laugh?"

"The little self-indulgent giggle you do when you’re in love with someone. You did it all the time when you talked about that elf guy you met in Lanara. You were mooning over him for two weeks, and then when he wouldn’t come on the road with us, you spent the next four months bemoaning the fact that you didn’t stay behind with him.”

“Oh yeah," Portia says, "I remember that guy. Ernesto or whatever. She's right, Cat, you did that laugh all the time about him."

"His name was Nestor," I correct. "And so what if I giggle about a guy? That’s hardly ironclad proof that I’m in love with him.”

“It absolutely is,” Suzanne assures me. “I’ve only ever heard you giggle that way about Lanaran elf guy, and that also happens to be the only romantic relationship I’ve ever seen you cry over.”

I scoff. “Yeah, but I knew that I was in love with Nestor. I was nuts about him. He was an amazing guy and we clicked on a deep, profound level from the moment we met. Khysmet though? Not so much. When we first met I had to hold myself back from ripping his head off. He still pisses me off every single day. If I was actually in love with him, don’t you think it would be a bit more obvious to me?”

Suzanne rolls her eyes and sighs. "Fine, go ahead and deny it all you want. Whatever. All I know is that if you leave now, you'll be miserable for months, if not years, constantly lamenting what could have been if you had stayed. Take the next year and a half, figure out your shit, and if you're still giggling the same way about him at the end of it, take the hint and fucking stay, Cat."

Portia claps and cheers. “That was absolutely unforgiving, Suzie. Beautiful stuff. Inspired.”

I pull my knees up to my chest, wrap my arms around them, and bury my face between them, groaning loudly. Suzanne only gets mean when she’s passionate about something, so I have no doubt that whatever the actual veracity of her theory may be, she certainly believes it to be unquestionably true. I scrunch up my face and make little frustrated noises. I don’t want it to be true.

“What’s so horrible about the idea of being in love with him?” Suzanne demands.

I don’t think about it. I just answer.

“Because if I am, then that means he wins,” I say. “And I don’t want to just give up so easily.”

Portia laughs. “Wow, your relationship seems really unhealthy. Super entertaining though.”

I hide a little self-indulgent smile behind my knees. “I’m having a lot of fun.”

“Fucking stay, Cat,” Suzanne says with a groan. “You’ll never forgive yourself if you leave now, and for that matter, neither will I.”

“Damn Suzie, fine,” I concede, “this time I’ll stay. I’ll go tomorrow and tell Eliza.”

Thank you.”

“Can we talk about something else now?” I beg. “I need to hear about everything that happened to you guys while I’ve been here and also tell you about everything else I’ve been getting up to.”

“Suzie fell off the stage while we were in Felkhari,” Portia supplies eagerly.

"You really just look for every possible opportunity to bring that up, don't you?" Suzanne says wearily.

“Obviously, I’m going to be bringing it up as much as possible for the rest of time. Funniest shit I’ve ever seen. She was in the middle of a line, too.”

We stay up late into the night talking, trading stories about everything that’s happened while we’ve been separated. I tell them about my attempts at espionage and about mapping the underground tunnels, they tell me about almost getting robbed twice between towns and about the months-long prank war between Portia and Yuxuan. The only reason either of them agree to go to sleep is when I swear to accept responsibility and face Eliza’s wrath for bringing them back late tomorrow. I show them where their rooms are and how to work the bathtubs, then leave them to experience the joys of having a huge room all to themselves, promising to wake them up too when Vizsla wakes me up first thing in the morning.

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