The door gave way to a soldier's shoulder before Rama reached it himself, and the corridor beyond was already full of torchlight and moving bodies, palace guards half dressed and grim faced, one of them shouting for the household physician before he had even cleared the threshold.
"Report," Rama said, stepping into the doorway with his body angled so no one could see past him to the cot where their daughter still slept, ordinary and brown eyed again, utterly unremarkable to anyone who had not just watched her borrow another being's mouth.
