Chapter Content
The corridors swallowed him.
Buckingham Palace at night was not empty so much as held—lamps turned low beneath mourning cloth, footsteps absorbed by distance, marble breathing sound back like a patient animal. Oskar moved through it alone, his broad shoulders brushing shadow, the echo of the banquet thinning with every step until there was nothing left but the weight of his own pulse.
He did not look back.
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