The palace had thinned out by the time they brought her back through the main gates.
The guests that remained were the kind who had nowhere better to be or were too deep in their cups to know the evening had ended. A few heads turned as Cord walked her through the corridor. She kept her eyes forward and gave them nothing.
The walk to the king's wing was long. She knew the route — everyone who had spent enough time in the palace learned it the way you learned to avoid a bruise, instinctively, without being told. Wide corridors that grew quieter and colder the further you went. Floors that stopped being decorated and became purely functional.
Cord didn't speak to her. Neither did the other two guards. That was almost worse than if they had. Silence in a palace meant something was being decided.
They stopped outside a heavy door at the end of the east corridor.
Cord turned to her.
"Wait here." He said it without looking at her directly, like she was furniture he was arranging.
