Noel wore black.
Not the refined black of a man attending a formal occasion. Just black — dark coat, dark shirt, dark trousers.
He sat in the carriage across from Cedric and watched the city pass by the window, not speaking for a while.
The streets were busier than usual for the hour. He noticed it without wanting to — the people moving in the same direction, the cluster of bodies visible two streets ahead outside the station, the particular energy of a crowd that had gathered to watch something.
Something that is neither a celebration nor a protest. Just the grim, ordinary human appetite for witnessing.
He looked away from the window.
Cedric was watching him.
"Bennett told me," Cedric said. "About the princess."
Noel looked at him.
"Everything?" he said.
"Everything."
