After dinner, the palace settled into a quieter rhythm.
Servants cleared the hall. Doors closed softly. Footsteps faded into corridors that seemed to stretch forever.
Napoleon II rose first.
"I'll walk you to your room," he said.
Elisabeth stood and nodded. Her parents exchanged a look, then her mother smiled faintly.
"Don't stay up too late," she said to her daughter. "Tomorrow will be busy."
"I know," Elisabeth replied.
They separated at the main corridor. Elisabeth's parents were escorted toward their wing, attendants following. Napoleon II led the other way, their pace unhurried.
Versailles at night felt different. Less ceremonial. More functional. Lamps were set into the walls at regular intervals, casting even light instead of flickering shadows. No torches. No smoke.
"This wing was finished last year," Napoleon II said as they walked. "I wanted the guest quarters modernized first."
"I noticed," Elisabeth replied. "It doesn't smell like oil or wax."
