The room was shaped like the segment of a circle, which made sense if they were in a tower. The color scheme continued in this room, but the bed, at least, looked as if it wouldn’t be torture to sleep in. The bedframe was more sinuous copper, columns rising from each corner of the bed that split, curled around in tendrils, and met above the center. There was an ordinary-looking copper wardrobe, a couple of chairs and a stool, and a window in the curved outer wall, framed in more copper spirals. Of course, it might not be an actual window, but rather a magical image. Disorientation was a means of control, too. This apartment could be a mile from the actual Palace, and he might be no wiser.

“Which of the packs is yours, milord Duke?” the Doll asked, as he stood there, taking it all in. He eyed the bed dubiously; the Doll hadn’t specified that there was a bedchamber for Beltran. Was he expected to share it with Beltran? He could, it wasn’t as if the idea offended him, but—“Uh, the blue one,” he replied absently.

The Doll carrying the blue pack took it to the wardrobe, opened it, and began putting his clothing away. The Doll carrying Beltran’s brown canvas pack began taking it out of the room, then turned and looked at Beltran, who had not moved. “If you would come with me, Duke’s Companion?” it whispered. “I shall show you to your chamber.”

Well, that’s a relief.

Beltran followed the Doll apprehensively, as the other Doll opened a door in the left, non-curved wall. “This is your chamber of bathing and personal hygiene,” it said, gesturing to him to come and look. And sure enough, there was a bathroom like the exceedingly convenient ones in his own manor, with an enormous tub, the kind of close stool where the waste flushed down, presumably into a sewer or tank, and a sink and mirror. And a door in the opposite wall. “You will be sharing this with your companion?” The Doll sounded tentative, as if it expected him to disapprove.

“That will be fine,” he said, still a bit dazed, because this was nothing at all like his experience here as a foster, where he’d shared a tiny little sliver of a room with Hakkon, and a bathroom with a dozen other male fosters.

“Will this serve?” it asked anxiously.

“This will be fine. More than fine!” he told the Doll.

“Milord Duke will be served by three of us, if that is sufficient,” the Doll said. “This one, and the two pack-carriers. Will that be sufficient?”

He wanted to tell the thing that he’d rather not be served by any of them, because to be honest he found them unnerving, but he suspected that would only cause the Doll distress. “That will be fine,” he repeated.