By the time Ajab reached his chamber doors, most of the water had already left him.
What remained clung at the edges — cuffs, hem, the back of his collar.
Not enough to drip.
Just enough to feel unpleasant.
Elmah stayed behind him.
Quiet.
Like he had been the entire walk.
The doors opened. Everyone was inside. All of them. His maids.
That alone made him slow a step.
It looked like a drill. The air held the faint scent of polished wood and something floral that had already faded.
It was the kind of smell that lingered after preparation.
After something had been made ready.
Liah stood closest. A smile rested on her face. Polished. Proper. The one meant for guests.
"Greetings, Your Highness. You're welcome."
A bow followed — clean, graceful, measured to the exact angle etiquette demanded.
Nothing was wrong with it.
Nothing wrong at all.
Yet the room felt cold. Not air. Not wind. Just… cold. Like stepping into shade.
