A soft tap on the door preceded Lorrie's entrance. "Stand up," she told Solace.

He returned her stare.

Lorrie folded her arms.

She's going to beat me about the head and shoulders shortly. Solace reluctantly climbed out of the tub, though he wanted to enjoy the water for longer. The scrub with a washcloth was the bath he was used to. Using hot water was against Jorhnak's Teachings, though. Even if he still couldn’t fully remember a lot of his life as either Dunn or Solace, he did remember that he hated the religion and those in charge of it. He took the towel she gave him. By the time he finished getting the pants on, he was out of breath and had to lean on the door frame momentarily. Marigold stood ready with a towel and comb. She looked even more irritated now.

When she had first burst into the bathroom and rushed at him, Solace had been sure she was about to attack. Instead, she upended the bucket of water on his head and wailed about him ruining his hair. He might not have had all his memories in order, but Solace was sure he had never spent more than five minutes washing his hair. Marigold had spent an entire hour at it, with six different bottles from the shelf he sat next to.

Once he was sat on the bench at the short table she stood near, Marigold huffed and grabbed his head, turning it forward. "You're going to add hours of preparation time every day if you keep doing this. Do not scrub your hair dry, Your Highness. Pat it. Or better, just call me to dry it." She took the ends of his hair and, with the gentlest of movements, began picking the knots out.

"So very sorry, Marigold," Solace said with a roll of his eyes.

She poked her finger into his ribs and wiggled it.

Wheezing, he cringed away, clamping his arm over the spot. Turning, he gave her a stern look.

Marigold laughed. "There it is! Exactly the look!" She turned to Lorrie. "See? He was in there the whole time. You didn't believe me."

She was an odd one, although her reaction seemed the most normal out of everyone's. He still didn't understand the fear, though. Marigold spritzed something in his hair and started combing with longer strokes. "Lorrie, do you think we'll be okay?"

Solace looked back at her. "Why wouldn't you be?"

Firmly turning his head forward again, Marigold didn't answer.

"Kelvin knows about it," Lorrie said cryptically.

Tapping his finger on his thigh, Solace frowned. "You two. Quit being secretive and tell me. Why would you not be fine?"

Marigold shifted nervously behind him. "Well... It's just... Politics."

"A boil upon the buttocks of mankind," Solace grumbled. "How does that affect you though?"

"Because we're your maids," Marigold admitted finally.

"Does it have to do with the Knight Commander?" Solace asked.

"Yes," Lorrie said, twisting her apron between her hands. "Your Highness, please don't kick him again?"

Marigold's hands stilled. "He what?" She leaned around to look at Solace's face. "You kicked Sir Kelvin?"

Solace shrugged. "He kept saying I was a demon." His voice cracked. He'd been speaking a lot today with a voice that wasn't used to that sort of exercise.

Lorrie moved out of his peripheral vision and returned with a glass of water a moment later. Solace vaguely recalled only ever using clay cups in his previous life, so a glass container was novel. He admired it, supporting its weight with both hands. Even a glass of water was a bit too much weight for him, it seemed. He downed it, amazed that the taste was also different than he was used to. It tasted clean but not sterile. Lorrie took the glass back when he was finished with it.

"Thank you," he said.

"Your Highness, stop moving," Marigold admonished. She was still trying to untangle his hair.

"If it's such a bother, cut it off."

"Absolutely not!"

Solace was surprised to see that Lorrie had joined that shout. He had been under the impression that she didn't like frivolous things.

Marigold huffed in exasperation and finished combing the tangles out in long strokes. Reaching past him, she grabbed something from the table and started spraying it.

"What is that scent?”

“Blood orange.” Marigold sighed. "To think people saw you sopping wet like that! It's probably all over the palace!"

"That's not what they're talking about," Lorrie muttered. "Are you done? It's nearly time." When Marigold stepped back, Lorrie pulled a white undershirt over his head and shoved his arms into it, followed by a vest.

Marigold swept his hair out from under the garments while Lorrie adjusted the fluff of his shirt and tucked it into his pants.

"Is this how people normally dress?" he asked, offended that they were treating him like he couldn't dress himself. They worked like a seamless team, though. It was kind of astonishing.

"Not normally," Marigold said. "You're a fashion icon. Stand up now."

He stood and watched as the women brushed and dusted his outfit.

"This part is easier," Marigold said.

Lorrie approached with the mid-calf-length coat, and once it was on, the women withdrew to look. Marigold stood with her hands over her mouth. "So... beautiful!" she breathed. “It looks even better in motion! Into the chair!" Marigold pulled his hand to get him to move. Feeling like a living doll, Solace dropped into the wheeled chair and fidgeted with his hands in his lap; they were soft, the nails perfect.

Rolling him out of his rooms and to the hall, he turned his head to look at everything as he passed. They were going in the opposite direction from the garden doors, heading for an intersection. The intersection had four misaligned halls branching off to the left, right, and straight. Stairs to the second floor were awkwardly placed within the widened area on his left, funneling all traffic toward the center of the intersection. The hall turned from carpet to hardwood. Marigold pushed him into the hall on the right.

Paintings of people decorated the walls now. He got the impression this was a more frequented section of the palace.

They passed a mirror, and he only briefly got a glimpse of a pale beauty in crimson.

That couldn't have been me! He had only ever seen the lower half of his face in the tiny bronze shaving mirror he’d used to use. That was until she got frustrated with his missing spots and took over the task.

His thoughts about the past were interrupted by the rumble of conversation. No one was in the hall, but it sounded like they were all around him. Solace gripped his knees in worry. He wasn't able to defend himself from a crowd of people.

A brunette woman crossed the hall ahead of them, carrying a pitcher. She looked at him in disgust and continued on her way.

"Ugh. Kelly," Marigold muttered.

"Careful with your words," Lorrie admonished.

They arrived at the door Kelly had entered. It led to a large room with a high ceiling decorated with a familiar painting.

This is the courthouse! Solace recognized as they rolled into the room. The palace had been built around the old courthouse, and they were coming in from the western exit. With a frame of reference, Solace felt a little at ease, but that swiftly disappeared as he realized this was the source of the voices he'd heard in the hall. Four tables spanned the room's length, lined with hundreds of chairs. Men and women in fancy clothes sat scattered at the tables, talking and laughing in a din he was entirely unused to. His instincts screamed that they were being too loud and would attract demons, but he couldn't say anything. His throat had closed in terror.

Marigold turned right and followed the wall to the back of the room, where a shorter table sat on the stage with four chairs facing the rest of the long tables. The stage was an original feature to the room as well, though they'd replaced the stairs on the right with a ramp.

As they passed, some people stopped their conversations to look at him, piercing him with calculating gazes.

He remembered reading about how animals used to hunt and eat each other in the wild. Solace suspected that this was what hunted prey felt like. Marigold pushed him up the ramp and across the stage to the awkwardly empty spot at the opposite end.

Once he was settled at the table, Solace bowed his head, trying to find some composure. Thankfully, no one seemed to be paying him any attention. Feeling the need to have something in his hands, he reached for the complicated place setting in front of him, but Marigold slapped his hand.

“Don’t mess with that yet,” she whispered.

Solace lolled his head back to look at her.

I don't know if I'm going to get through this.

She giggled. “Rolling your eyes cutely won’t change that you shouldn’t touch the setting until it’s time to eat, Your Highness.”

“I get the feeling that this place is full of stupid rules. What is this dinner for?" He looked back at Marigold again.

She smirked. "You'll see!"

He wanted to vomit.