For a minute there, I lost myself.

He hadn’t even pulled back the blankets, just collapsed onto the comfort of his bed and fell asleep. He woke early, though, a single nightmare having plagued him that night. He did not know of its significance, nor did he really want to consider it. Still, it lingered in the back of his mind and would not leave. It had been years since he’d dreamed, and it was difficult not to think of it having really happened.

A quick, gentle knock forced Larkin out of bed. He touched his temples, wincing at how sensitive his skin seemed to be. His eyes slowly slid closed again, and he sat on the edge of his bed, letting the blood ease itself back into his brain. He shouldn’t have stood so fast, having gotten so little sleep. Groggily, he gave the maids permission to enter, and they poured in, carrying the supplies they needed to prepare Larkin for the upcoming day.

They went to work immediately, some of them just to dust and straighten his room, others to prepare his bath and others to bring his breakfast, which he did not eat. The smell of his spiced bath was pleasant, and he removed his clothes, shoving one of the younger maids to the floor as she tried to assist him in untying the back of his undershirt. If it had been any other morning, he probably would have done the same if the help had not been offered.

He sank into the water, and leaned against the side of the white tub, his head resting in his hand as they brushed and washed his hair. He was more docile than he had ever been, the servants saw, but were still wary. He tended to be that way before an outburst. But this was different; it wasn’t the tense calm of their leader. It was a tired laziness, as if something on his mind prevented the normal flow of his essence. The weight of something had him down.

They dressed him as his hair dried, his thoughts straying away from what he needed to think of to something else, something less important, but essential to the upcoming events. He should have been thinking of seeing the other governors once again, of those he liked and those he didn’t, of the arrangements, the entertainers and the food, and the music and dance. But he didn’t.

He did not wear his complete attire, saving the show for later. His hair was left down, much to the disappointment of his hairdressers. He turned when they were finished lacing on his clothes and stared at himself in the mirror. He lifted his hands, stared at them for a moment, and then ordered that they bring him his white pair of gloves. He slid them on and examined them in the mirror. It had been while since he’d worn this pair. Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who’s the fairest one of all? Oh, King, you are the fairest one of all.

Larkin left his room in a swirl of white, and his servants scurried after him. He took them to Tic’s room, unlocking it for them. He held the door as they went inside, each one daring a glance at his face, confused he would not be joining them to assist in readying Tic for the party. He shut the door as the last maid went inside, but did not relock it. The guard was still there, his lack of sleep obvious. He could barely keep his eyes open, and was grateful that Larkin sent him to fetch someone to take over.

He remained outside the room, once again touching his temples. This time he did not wince but grinned, thoughts of his night forcing a laugh from him. He disappeared down the long hall, ready to organize for the ball.