The corridor felt longer than it should have.
Not because anything had changed physically, but because everything else had. The air carried a quiet tension that had not been there the day before, something sharper, more deliberate. It settled into the space without announcing itself, and everyone within it had already adjusted.
Eliot walked beside me, his pace even, his presence steady in a way that suggested he had already measured the shift and accepted it.
"They've started talking," he said.
"That was inevitable."
"Yes," he replied, "but the speed of it matters."
I glanced at him briefly. "What are they saying?"
"That you were called privately. That the Duchess did not leave pleased. That you were advised."
The last word lingered.
"Advised," I repeated.
"It sounds cleaner than the alternatives."
"Of course it does."
