The next days unfolded with a precision that only the palace could manage, each hour catalogued, each demand weighed against a schedule that never left enough room to breathe.
Edward accepted his sentence of forced leave with the same stiff dignity he wore like armor, but the edges softened after the first morning. By the third day, he had stopped reaching for the comm every hour, and by the fifth, those who crossed paths with him beyond the palace walls swore they saw him pause at a café table with a book in hand, shoulders unburdened in a way that made even the barista hesitate before interrupting. Quietly, without a fuss, Edward began to look almost human again, and more dangerously, he began to enjoy it. Being away from the imperial menaces, as he thought of them in private, felt like stepping out of a storm into sunlight he hadn't realized he'd missed.
