It was such a strange thing to imagine. His father, composed, commanding, the kind of man who filled a room simply by entering it, pacing a corridor in panic. Falling apart quietly in a hospital hallway. Just like this.
"Calm down," Madam Vale said. "And wait."
"Calm down and wait," Julian repeated it back to her, and there was something almost broken in how he said it. "Mother. That is your advice. Calm down and wait." He pressed a hand to his chest, briefly, like he was checking that his heart was still there. "I can barely stand still."
"I know," she said simply.
And then, unexpectedly, without ceremony, she rested her hand on his shoulder. Just one hand. Steady. Warm. The way she had probably never done when he was young, or maybe had, and he had simply forgotten. Either way, it landed on him now like something he hadn't known he needed.
"She will be fine," Madam Vale said quietly. "She is in capable hands."
