Something feels different when I wake up the following morning. Initially, I have trouble clocking where the discrepancy arises. Everything presents as it should - the maids are as attentive as usual, Marie has returned and scrubs my hair in that familiar, silly way she has done since I was young, and Ms. Laroche drones on about some classical revitalization in arts that the empire experiences a few decades prior.
Even amidst the anticipation of seeing Julian later today, the feeling nibbles at me like a mouse. Before anyone asks, no it's not about yesterday. In a way most unlike myself, I've come to a strange peace about the imperial family and my place within it. Nor is this my spider sense alerting me to the fact that I've missed a key detail - I've gotten a good enough idea of the big picture at this point.
No, this is purely emotional.
