Princess Isabelle quickly curtsied, placing one hand over her chest and another tugging the side of her gown in an elegant bow. She then straightened her body, her smile filled with such friendliness that no one would turn away.
Cassius didn't return the curtsy. He stood tall, hands folded behind his back, the very image of unshaken authority. His expression, as always, was carved from ice not cruel, but detached, untouched. A crown prince who had seen too much to be moved by charm or beauty.
Arabella, just a step behind him, said nothing. She watched. Her breath caught as Princess Isabelle stepped closer, eyes radiant with admiration.
"Princess Isabelle Maralovan," the girl said brightly, offering her name like a gift. Her curtsy had been flawless, every movement graceful, every smile practiced yet sincere but it was the hope behind her eyes that made it almost painful to watch.
