When he finished cleansing himself of the dirt and oil that had built up over the past week, Crow bid Percival goodbye and headed back to his room alone. Luckily, no one had stabbed him in the back yet, but he continued to stay on edge after getting a glimpse of how many noblemen had been invited to the event. He had only just started getting used to the faces of the people who lived in the palace with him. Throwing in so many unfamiliar people made him jumpy. He hoped the effects of the wine would wear off soon, so he could function without feeling so fog headed. Right now, the slowness of his reflexes only served to give him more anxiety, because he couldn’t trust himself to react if one of the guests proved to be malicious.

Heading into his room, the viceroy looked up to find that he wasn’t alone. “You’re back early,” he commented obviously to Preston, who was setting up a station for him to get ready in front of the mirror.

The attendant glanced his way and nodded before returning to his task. “I left my sister to nap,” he explained without looking up again. “She still loves the goose down blanket you gave her.”

“I’m glad,” Crow smiled, pleased to hear that the blanket was doing the good he’d intended for it. He stepped over to the chair by the mirror and sat down, examining the face of the reflection in front of him. His hair was starting to flow past his shoulders, so he decided it was about time to cut it. “What will you be doing during the party?” he asked the boy as he picked up the comb on the table.

“Whatever you need me to,” Preston shrugged. He reclined languidly against the bed as he watched the viceroy take care of his own appearance. Most of the duties he was supposed to fulfill as a personal attendant had been negated by his master’s own denial of accepting more help than he needed. It had taken a few weeks, but the boy no longer stood rigidly at attention now that he knew there was rarely any work for him to do. “I’m just supposed to be present to test your food and take care of any responsibilities you need done during the festivities.”

“Sounds like it’s going to be an easy night for you,” Crow smirked, tugging at a particularly stubborn knot in his hair with the ivory teeth.

“Every night is an easy night when my master won’t let me do my job,” the attendant pointed out wryly.

“Then you should thank me,” the viceroy caught his gaze in the mirror.

“I suppose I should,” Preston mused. He stepped away from the bed and bent at the waist in a bow. “Thank you for being an independent prat, my lord.”

Crow threw the comb at him.

Once he finished cropping his hair with a knife and trimming down his beard to a manageable length, the viceroy allowed his servant to pick one of the more elaborate outfits from his closet—just to spite him for the comment he’d made—and changed clothes. He put on a pair of clean black trousers and a vermillion shirt with a belt that rested over the top of his white undershirt. The nested clothing didn’t bother him as much as it had the first day he’d worn layers, but he had a feeling he was going to be warm when he stepped into a room full of hot bodies later. Still, he didn’t complain. He knew it was the kind of outfit his father would have wanted him to show up in, so there was no point in fighting it.

Preston declared him presentable for the noble public, and the two made their way to the ballroom to join the rest of the guests that had been invited to Penelope’s party. Crow could feel his heartbeat quicken in his chest in anticipation to find out if the knight’s hard work would pay off.