They walked back to the villa in silence, the afternoon light already going long and gold over the rooftops, and Isole didn't let go of his hand once the entire way.
The house was full when they arrived — Ashe on the porch steps, already standing before the gate had properly closed behind them; Valerica in the doorway, document case set aside for once; Mara at the kitchen window, watching; Nyx somewhere just inside, present the way she was always present, a half-step ahead of anyone noticing she'd arrived.
Nobody asked how it went. They could all read it plainly enough in the specific, spent quality of Isole's posture — not defeat, not quite victory either, something closer to a person who had just set down a weight she'd been carrying since before any of them had known her.
