The morning after the chapel scene, the team woke shaped differently.
I noticed it first in Lucien. He had come down to breakfast at six-thirty, which was earlier than his ordinary rotation, and he had taken his tea standing at the window rather than at his usual chair. The smile was at its working setting. The face underneath was the face I had seen on him for the first time yesterday in the Old Chapel — the steadier one, the one Seraphina had named as posture rather than container. He drank his tea. Watched the morning. Returned to his desk without speaking. The Drakeveil Echo at his hip ran at a calmer hum than I had felt from him in two months.
