I trudged up the granite steps, leaning every so often on the dark oak railings as I frequently paused to catch my breath. "At least it's only the third floor", I muttered. A small consolation, seeing as it was a building with just four floors. Undeterred, I limped on; my left leg slightly dragging behind me, unable to support as much weight.

Bracing myself, I opened the wooden door to the Royal Corridor slowly. Peering around and squeaking with surprise at the guard on the other side. Sheepishly, I bowed my head in apology keeping my eyes cast down and edged my way around the door. Before ducking my head, however, I managed to notice the bemused smirk of the guard, clearly a well-trained warrior by the look of his muscular frame, raising an eyebrow at me.

"Rose Tyler, reporting for cleaning duty." I whispered, keeping my body still under his gaze as he ascertained my level of threat. Even though I'd been living in the palace grounds for nine months now, I could not bring myself to talk above a whisper if any of the wolfmen approached me. A lifetime of habits is not likely to change quickly.

"Head on in, this door will remain open; I'll be patrolling every so often." The guard's voice was loud in the echoey corridor, but not brusque. True to his word he opened the huge, oak panelled doors and left me enough room to skirt around him. I scurried to the cleaning cupboard, trying to hold back a shiver when I felt the wolfman's eyes on me. I know it wasn't in my head that I could feel his stare linger on my leg, no doubt curious when living in a world where disease or deformity were rare.

Doing my best to ignore the guard, I got to work. Edna, the Head Housekeeper, had kindly shown me everything I needed to do earlier this week. (It had been a different guard then). I remember trying to hold back my awe at the King's private rooms, hoping my nervousness would just be interpreted as a poor girl's sense of inferiority.

Without pausing or appearing to be dawdling, I took in the details of all the rooms as I proceeded to polish, clean and dust with great vigour. His quarters were extensive: a corridor that ran through the middle, separating living spaces, kitchenette, private study, library, washrooms and bedroom. The stone and wood aesthetic that all wolves seemed to love was present, and I guessed the bronze timber to be rare and expensive as it wasn't anything I recognised.

My eyes lingered on the small clues to the King's private life as I cleaned: the knowledge that he liked to sit in his library and drink whisky made evident by the tumbler found by an old-fashioned leather armchair and a pile of half-finished books; peppermint toothpaste, rolled up carefully from the end; pink lilies in the foyer, yet barely any other type of decoration apart from a few austere paintings. But, best of all, permeating every room was that soft, butterscotch scent I remembered so well. When changing the sheets in his bedroom, I had to stop myself from pulling them in close to sniff more deeply.

His bedroom was surprisingly plain: a dark wooden fourposter with a navy bedspread, a closet, typical bedroom furniture and lavish animal skins for rugs. Although, from what I've learnt about wolfpeople since moving here, they are not a race marked by their love of paraphernalia and trinkets like the humans are.

Even though the guard didn't appear to be keeping an eye on me, nonetheless I'd left all the doors open to the rooms I was in, as according to Edna's instructions. "It's more to protect you" I remember her saying, "in case anything was to go missing or be moved around, you're less likely to be blamed." I had nodded sagely, appreciating the notion that I'd be offered some sense of protection if anything were to happen.

The last room I cleaned was his private study. I was told specifically not to linger too long in here, just change the bins and pick up any used crockery. I scurried around, ignoring the papers on the desk and trying to be as efficient as possible. I safely assumed the King spends a fair amount of time here in the evenings, as there were two mugs with the remains of some kind of tea and the room felt more lived in than anywhere else.

One odd thing was the map hanging on one wall; it covered a huge corkboard and all the territories of the Crown (and some that were not) stretched across it. Ardel, the capital and where I was now, stood roughly in the centre. The Bane territories located far to the right-hand corner, near woodland and rivers. But, what I found peculiar were the red pins stuck almost at random across the board, over villages and hamlets, with no obvious pattern. Scared to be caught prying, I wrenched myself away.

My back and leg were sore from all the bending, but I tried to not let it show as I limped back out into the corridor to put everything away; pride was my ally. Fortunately, there was a dumb waiter for me to put the rubbish on without having to carry it downstairs.

The guard, who had been on station all morning whilst I worked, cleared his throat when seeing that I was done. "It's Rosa, isn't it?" His voice was a deep baritone, although I could hear an air of something mischievous in his tone. Perhaps, he'd been given this job as punishment for something. I didn't want to find out. Mustering my courage, but remembering to keep my eyes cast low, I whispered the correction "Rose".

Unaffected, the guard continued rather jollily: "Are you new here Rose? To the Palace, I mean."

Panic seized me. Oh no, he was trying to converse with me. These wolfmen were not like the ones I was used to, keeping themselves at a distance. Edging towards the door, hoping to make it politely clear that I was not one for small talk, I murmured back, "I've been here nine months."

"Really? I haven't seen you around." His politeness was confusing me. But, I knew what I needed to say to end this conversation, "I was transferred from the Bane Pack".

It had the desired effect. A small silence ensued. Murmuring again, as I made my tactical retreat, "If that will be all". I didn't wait for a response, nor did I raise my eyes to see his inevitable pity. Pushing the servants' door open just enough for me to hasten through, I began my slow trek down the stairs and back to the Palace kitchens.