It was a square piano of mahogany and satinwood. Muriel was sitting on a little bench. Her fingers were pressing all the keys she thought were necessary. The deep, thoughtful tones came from the piano almost as beautifully as steam. There was a book of sheet music to guide her. She was grateful for that. She didn't know all the songs in the world.
They were in the music room, a place full of instruments and related things.
Some feet away from Muriel, Princess Arya sat on a comfy couch. Muriel knew she was being judged quite harshly. That was fair, all part of the process. When the song was done, Muriel pushed her bench away and moved to face the princess. Then she curtsied.
Two fast claps of her palms, and the princess stood up. "That was pleasant enough. Now come with me. I might as well show you some of the rooms here."
What proceeded was something like a tour, or a slice of one. Muriel was shown several grand rooms and told seemingly trivial facts. She tried to remember as many of these facts as possible. After that, Princess Arya took her to a library, and it was a pretty large room.
"I'd fancy a some reading before lunch," the princess said, and that was that. The women read in the library, or rather, Muriel wandered around to see if she could gather as many books as possible to read at a later date while the princess focused on one book. A servant took the books Muriel picked out and promised to put them in her room. Then someone announced that lunch was ready.
They went into a dining room, one of several. This one wasn't formal, but it was lovely. The walls had no plaster. They were allowed to show off their gray and brown bricks and stones. Muriel sat across from the princess at a medium sized table as they ate pickled eggs, fried beet slices, and roasted radishes.
When they were full, the women went to a large window in the sitting room they first had tea in. Maids came with even more tea in a different tea set. This one was bright yellow with silver geometric designs. Muriel poured tea for the princess first and then for herself. This tea was green and bitter. It looked even more sickly inside the yellow cups. Muriel honestly didn't like the taste, but she took it well.
Snowflakes began falling from the sky outside. Good thing the tea was hot. There was even a plate of snacks for them, dried fish, which actually made the tea taste a little nicer. The princess remarked on how she hated the snow, no matter how beautiful it was.
"Every year feels colder to me," she said with pure acid in her voice. Then she sucked some air between her teeth, blinked a few times, and spoke again but with a much lighter tone. "Even so, if you want to have a walk in the snow, I won't mind, but I won't join you. I'll stay right here, where the fires are fed and the tea's burning my tongue. That's how I prefer my winters."
Some time for herself? How lovely! But Muriel wanted to know something first. She quietly said to Princess Arya, "Your Highness, I hope you'll forgive me if this question seems impolite."
The princess rolled her eyes. "Go on and ask the question so I can judge it for myself."
"I've heard that His Highness, the master of this castle, is unwell and bedridden. Is this true?"
Princess Arya took an oddly long sip of her tea, quiet and methodical, her eyes closing as if she was trying to decompress her mind. Then her eyes opened and sharpened, but Muriel couldn't exactly believe that those brown eyes were seeing her own blue-gray ones. The princess wasn't likely seeing her.
Those cocoa fingers lowered the princess' yellow cup to its saucer.
She inhaled and exhaled rather dramatically.
The brown eyes closed.
Opened.
And became very, very motherly.
"My son is quite ill." Her words were slower, milder, and almost lethargic. For a moment, Muriel wondered if someone had drugged her. That thought had Muriel's breath arresting itself. What if someone poisoned the princess and thought to blame her, the new companion?! What if this was all some complicated political trap that she was only a small part of?!
"Your ... Your Highness?" Muriel reached over and let her hand cup over the darker one that held the cup's handle. "Are you feeling well?"
Her black eyelashes fluttered and her lips slackened.
But then her face tightened back up. She looked ... happy. She even seemed more youthful.
A wonderful smile was on her face.
"I'm going to visit him!" She brushed Muriel's hand away and put her tea down. "I hope I didn't worry you. I was feeling a spoonful of wretchedness, but I'm quite energized now." She stood up and smoothed out the parts of her skirts she could reach. "I'm going to have a chat with him. You're excused for the rest of the day."
Muriel's pale eyebrows shot up her face, but she was relieved to see that the princess was well. "Would you like for me to accompany you?"
"No, no, Muriel. You have no reason to go to his chambers. Simply enjoy yourself."
The princess just ... walked off and started humming to herself.
Muriel didn't know why her mood had changed so quickly, but she was glad to know that nothing seemed to be wrong with her.
***
Attentiveness was required here. She was in a world of people she didn't trust, not that she trusted many people. Her eyes were always looking around for anything suspicious or even dangerous.
But she still talked to herself, mostly about unrelated things. It made her feel better.
"Some birds don't sing in cages."
"Potato cheesecake is quite lovely with white wines, isn't it?"
"I hope Papa's well."
"Will it snow for much longer?"
"I wonder what's for dinner."
"Can dogs and goats become friends?"
"Fairy stones are actually very disgusting when one truly considers their nature."
Muriel had her cloak, a pair of gloves, and her muff as she walked around a frigid garden. The visible plants were bare and dormant. The cobblestone pathway she walked on had a fine layer of snow that had yet to be swept away by any servants. Most everything else on the ground was buried under layers of whiteness.
Her mind clicked and ached as she kept talking, and she was very careful not to talk about her most dangerous thoughts.
Something was terribly incorrect in this castle.
Why had Princess Arya sent so many companions away? What flaws did she see in them?
How long would it take for her to send Muriel away?
Would she have Muriel beaten?
Muriel would have wondered if the princess was a serial killer, but as far as she knew all the previous companions had been sent home. Nobody was murdered.
She sighed. Her breath floated along in a misty shape.
This was an odd place to be in.
She happened to notice someone. She stopped rambling to herself.
There was a tall man a few feet ahead. He was wearing a long, dark blue cloak and a matching hat. With a slight tilt of his head, the man paused and looked at Muriel as if she was a pretty little flower that had managed to survive the winter, surprised and delighted.
Muriel walked up to him and curtsied. "Good afternoon, Sir."
The man gave a short bow. "Good afternoon. I haven't seen you before. Are you the princess' new companion?" He was somewhat handsome, straight brown hair with a square face and warm green eyes.
"Yes, Sir. I'm Muriel Devin."
"Ah. It's good to meet you. I'm Doctor Aron Bergson."
Muriel thought that doctors were the sort of people one should never betray. They knew how to kill and make it look like an illness. She kept herself even more humble than when she was with the princess. "It's a pleasure, Sir. Do you live here?"
His smile was warm. "Yes, Miss. I live here, and when anyone's ill or injured I tend to them."
"Oh, then you must be a very busy man."
The doctor's round nose twitched. "Yes. The prince is very ill."
Even though Muriel didn't know this prince, she was curious about his condition. But she also knew that she had little to no business asking about it. Thus, she only said to the doctor, "I hope His Highness recuperates soon. I imagine the Princess would be much happier if her son was healthy again."
"She would, Miss," Doctor Bergson said with an oddly confident nod. "She's a loving and attentive mother."
Muriel's fingers wiggled inside her muff and gloves. She tapped some of her teeth with her tongue. The doctor likely didn't notice any of that, however. "Doctor, may I ask, are you married?"
He shook his head. His hair seemed to be in a single braid running down his nape. "I'm far too consumed with my occupation to have a wife."
"But certainly a wife would appreciate a husband with regular income."
"Just the same, I shouldn't marry." At this moment, both of them were dusted with snow. "I need to leave you, Miss. I hope you won't mind."
Assuming he needed to go past her, Muriel stepped aside. "Don't let me keep you, Sir."
"Goodbye, Miss Devin," the man said as he passed her, some snow falling from his shoulders and hat, his boots' heels grinding on the pathway.
The doctor appeared to be pleasant enough, but Muriel knew better than to rely on him. She could only rely on herself.
***
The following days were pretty dull. At least they weren't difficult. She didn't have any chores whatsoever. The most taxing duties she had were pouring tea, playing music, writing boring letters dictated by her mistress, and reporting messages to high ranking servants.
Princess Arya still gave a brutal statement every now and then, but some of her statements weren't directed towards Muriel. The princess seemed to be a painfully honest kind of person, uncaring of people's feelings as long as she was able to give what she thought to be the truth. Sometimes, Muriel thought she actually agreed with the princess, but she didn't want to admit that to anyone.
One morning, however, there was a minor disagreement.
Princess Arya wanted to have some furniture carried out of storage and taken to a reception room that was almost never used. Muriel watched with the princess as a few men laid the tables out for their perusal.
"This one's darling," the princess said as she stepped toward a small table with a drawer and four thin legs. "There's a lovely floral scroll here on the drawer."
Muriel was looking at a different table, a long one made of white walnut wood. It wasn't ornate, and it seemed a little bit old, scratched, and chipped, but the legs were thick and sturdy. Those legs were connected by an H-shaped bar. The tabletop was also very sturdy. Muriel imagined that three people could safely put their backsides on the thing and be very stable.
