Layle closed the folder with care, like it was a living thing that might lash out if handled wrong, and slid it under his arm. His jacket followed, draped over his forearm again, sleeves still rolled, the heir refusing to let grief or exhaustion turn him into something soft.
At the doorway he paused.
Rafael looked up from the couch, jaw tight, eyes still burning with the residue of Delphine's name on paper.
Layle's expression shifted into something almost gentle. Almost. "I'll keep you updated," he said, his voice practical in the way he always got when it mattered.
Rafael's throat worked once. "Don't do anything reckless."
Layle's mouth twitched. "I'm incapable."
Gregoris didn't smile, but his gaze narrowed. "Two guards," he said.
Layle flicked his eyes to him. "Discreet."
Gregoris's answer was immediate. "Whose men do you think they are? They are more than capable of being both invisible and discreet."
