The room was completely silent.
Not the comfortable kind of quiet with rustling pages or distant footsteps, but a heavy, absolute stillness that pressed on the ears like water pressure at the bottom of a well. It was the first time Raphael had ever 'seen' silence so clearly—like a thick, invisible curtain dropped over the world, cutting him off from everything living and breathing beyond these four walls.
On the other side of the palace, Heenahad no such luxury.
She had 'just' decided to collapse onto the soft couch in her inner lounge, fingers aching from holding brushes and seals, eyes burning from too many documents written in too-small script. She'd kicked off her formal shoes and was reaching for the cushion when the door burst open with enough force to make the hinges protest.
