Days had passed, and by the time a full month slipped behind them like a closed door, Rafael found himself walking palace corridors again with a weight that was both familiar and entirely new.
Natalie was small against his chest, bundled in soft layers that smelled faintly of milk and clean unscented linen, her little mouth pursed in that serious way infants had - as if she'd been born already judging the world and finding it mildly inconvenient. Rafael kept one arm under her with the practiced care of a man who had learned quickly, and the other hand hovered at her back out of instinct, as if the palace itself might reach out and try to take her.
Beside him, the nurse assigned to assist - quiet, competent, and blessedly unchatty - matched his pace without forcing conversation. Rafael appreciated her for it more than he could say.
As a noble, and a high-ranking one at that, he had to present the first child of House Frasner to the Empress.
