In the days that followed, palace life settled into a strange, rhythmic peace. The daily routines resumed their usual pace, with Elara marching through the stone corridors in her signature slate-gray attire. Though, given the biting Northern drafts, the rigid fabric of her crisp blouse did little to hide the proud, tightened peaks pressing a teasing imprint against the silk lining of her vest.
Julian noticed. He always noticed.
The Prince Consort had become shamelessly clingy. He was a constant, playful shadow, refusing to let her out of his sight. Whether she was reviewing ledgers or walking the courtyards, Julian was there. He'd casually rest a hand on the small of her back, his fingers dipping into the curve of her waist, or lean in close enough that his warm breath brushed her neck.
It reached a point where the palace maids stopped looking for the Empress alone.
