Look in the room with the music

Seeing no signs of anyone to greet him, he walks across the room to the partially-open door from which the music emanates. As he makes his way through the assortment of couches, enormous pillows, and cushions, he thinks again that this all seems oddly familiar to him, but try as he might, he cannot connect any of it with a memory.

He comes to the door and pauses before entering. The strumming of a harp is definitely coming from the other side of the door. Unsure of the protocol for announcing oneself in one’s own harem, he decides to knock on the door before pushing it open and looking inside.

The harpist is a red-haired woman of Stewart’s age. She looks up, startled at his knock, and quickly stands up, knocking over her stool in the process.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know anyone was there!” She says, turning and picking up her stool before addressing Stewart again. “I hope I wasn’t disturbing anyone. I found this harp, and....”

Stewart can tell she is flustered, and perhaps a bit frightened. He also notices that she neglected to address him by his title. Although he had been king for mere hours, he could not remember the last time anyone other than a family member — or Chantelle — said anything to him without using, “Your Highness,” “Sir,” or some other appropriate acknowledgment of his superior station.

“It’s quite alright,” he responds, trying to put her at ease. “I thought the music was lovely. I just came to see who was playing it.”

Relaxing slightly, the young woman, allowed herself a small smile. “That’s very kind. I assume the king enjoys music, or he wouldn’t have the harp here in the first place.”

Stewart suppresses a smile at her words. “I take it you are new here, Miss —?”

“Abbie,” she responds. “Abbie Brightstar. Yes, I just arrived yesterday. In fact, Master Diego has only just begun my orientation when he was called away suddenly, so I haven’t even had a chance to meet the others yet....” She opens and closes her hands nervously and casts a worried look toward the door behind Stewart. “And I suppose it’s time to go meet the king, right? Is that why you are here? I really haven’t been schooled in what I’m supposed to do. I mean, I know I’m supposed to — well....”

Her face turns beet red, and Stewart almost laughs at the spectacle. Evidently Abbie is a “new recruit.”

“You must not be from around here,” he says in an even voice.

“I’m not,” she says. Then, as horror creeps over her face, she puts her hand over her mouth and says, “My accent! I’m sorry! No one told me the proper way to speak around here! Will the king be put off by my tongue?”

Wryly, Stewart thinks, “If Father’s tastes in women are anything like my own, I suspect his interests in what she can do with her tongue have little to do with the sounds she makes with it.”

To Abbie, however, he says, “There is nothing wrong with your accent. I merely observed that you must not be from around here because you seem unsure of how to conduct yourself in the palace. Everyone — nobles and commoners alike — receive training in such matters around here.”

Abbie looks only slightly less panicked. “I’m from one of the outer provinces. We never see royalty where I’m from, and even if we were to be instructed about palace etiquette, I doubt that would have helped me with knowing how to behave in a harem.”

“That is a fair point,” concedes Stewart, taking a seat and motioning for Abbie to do the same. He realizes he feels more relaxed in this moment than he has in a long time — and not just since ascending to the throne. Something about this beautiful and uncertain woman is putting him in a very good mood. Besides, she is very pleasing to his eyes.

“So what do you know, thus far?” he asks.

Abbie looks expectantly toward the door. “Do we have time for this? Is the king waiting for me?”

Stewart holds up his hand. “It’s quite alright. The king is in no immediate rush. Tell me what you know, so far, and perhaps I can help you with the rest.”

Abbie’s cheeks turn red, beautifully complementing her long, ginger hair. “Well, of course, I know I am basically ‘on call’ for whenever the king feels —“ She stops and awkwardly looks at her feet before continuing. “And from what I’ve heard, he’s got a pretty voracious appetite in that regard, so I should expect him to be seeing a lot of me.” She again grows flustered and says, “I mean, of course he’ll see all of me, but I’m told he’ll see all of me a lot of the time, and ....”

Stewart grins, despite himself. Her nervousness cannot disguise the fact that she is an intelligent, lively young woman. Watching her try to come to grips with what must be a very disorienting change of life is a fascinating experience.

“And how did you happen to come to offer your services to the king in this way?” he asks.

Her mouth forms a sarcastic smirk. “Well, I didn’t exactly ‘offer’ my services, but it’s not the sort of thing you can really say no to, can you? When Master Diego came through our village on his annual inspection a couple of years ago, I knew he was eyeing me with interest. I wasn’t exactly shocked when the ‘invitation’ arrived the day I turned eighteen.”

“So that’s how it worked,” thought Stewart. “Father sent his eunuch throughout the kingdom, looking for ‘fresh meat.’” He couldn’t decide if he found that concept intriguing or offensive.

“And I just got here to the palace, was subjected to a very thorough — and invasive — cleaning up, and Diego has done little more than show me to my room and tell me to watch out for the king’s sons, and then he left me to go tend to some urgent matter.”

Stewart looks up in surprise. “What do you mean ‘watch out for the king’s sons’?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know.... Something about how if I encountered either of them while I’m out at the market or something, to watch out, because I’m evidently their ‘type’ and they might try to seduce me, not knowing I’m ‘spoken for.’”

She draws quotation marks in the air around her last two words and says them with an air of distaste.

Stewart suppresses a grin. Diego was spot on in recognizing that Abbie is definitely the type that would attract the attention of him and Duncan. He finds it amusing that Diego knows them that well, but clearly doesn’t realize that the matter of whether or not she is “spoken for” has generally been of little relevance to the royal brothers.

“So what else should I know before I meet the king?” she asks.