The return to the Capital felt like stepping back into a machine that had never stopped turning.
Sun and salt were replaced by marble and glass, by corridors that carried the low echo of voices, and by the constant, invisible pressure of schedules and expectations. Rafael slipped into it with ease. His posture straightened, his expression settled into calm composure, and whatever softness the sea had coaxed into him folded neatly back into place.
Gregoris noticed.
With the same alert, assessing attention he gave to borders and battle maps. Rafael was not withdrawing. He was aligning himself again, fitting back into a world that demanded precision.
It was only later, in the quiet of Gregoris's office, when the doors were closed and the palace noise became a distant murmur, that the subject Damian had warned him about finally surfaced.
Delphine.
