The steam still clung to the mirror when Gabriel stepped out of the shower, skin flushed from the heat, hair damp and curling slightly at the ends. The marble floor of Damian's private bathing chamber was warm underfoot, enchantments humming quietly beneath its surface. The palace might've been a labyrinth of judgmental eyes and whispered politics but here, it felt like a retreat carved into stone and magic.
He took his time, toweling his hair and slipping into the soft, obsidian house robe laid out for him, Damian's, unmistakably. It draped over his shoulders like second skin, subtly laced with the Emperor's scent: cool, steel, cedarwood and something warm he couldn't quite name.
He passed the seating area just as the main chamber doors opened without a knock.
Only one person entered Damian's quarters without hesitation.
