The return to the palace was nothing like their journey into the Expanse. They rode out before the sun had fully risen, the camp already stripped down by the knights working with silent urgency. No one complained, not even the younger ones who usually found something to gripe about.
The lingering weight of the mist clung to them still, sitting on shoulders and breath alike. Levan did not allow it to linger, he set a steady pace, firm but not harsh, keeping Ilaria close to the center of the formation.
The first day passed without incident. The terrain shifted from pale, bone-like trees back to old forests coloured by earth and moss. Still, no one relaxed. Ilaria felt it too, the sensation of being watched. Not by beasts, but by memory itself.
She did not speak of it, and Levan never asked, though she often caught him glancing her way as if making sure she had not drifted too far into thought.
