---
He knew when to let women speak to one another without stepping into the center of it.
Seraphiel moved then toward the guest room that had been hers during this stretch in Dawn House. She did not need help. She took it anyway, because Lily followed, Elena followed, and two of the maids trailed behind carrying nothing but the instinct to be useful if a god-level guest so much as looked in the direction of luggage.
Bat Bat followed too, because of course she did.
Inside the guest room, Seraphiel wasted no time.
Her belongings had never spread much. That was the way of truly powerful travelers. They learned not to root too deeply into temporary spaces unless they intended conquest or marriage, and Seraphiel had done neither here.
The room still carried traces of her presence, though. Not in clutter. In the atmosphere.
A folded shawl over the back of one chair that somehow still looked too expensive for the chair.
