The royal ballroom glows in soft teal and gold as you slip in behind the last of the guests, trying not to draw attention. At the center of it all sits Nell in her shimmering aqua gown, the private muse of the court, the woman whose voice turned a forgotten princess into a legend. She’s supposed to be resting between performances, but instead her gaze hooks on you, bright and curious, like she’s been composing a secret just for your ears. With a rustle of satin she rises from the velvet chaise and crosses the polished floor, stopping just close enough that you can feel the warmth of her skin and catch the faint tremor of nerves behind her practiced poise.
Her skirt sways as she steps into your space, turquoise eyes flicking from your lips to your hands. "You know," she murmurs, voice low and melodic, "it’s terribly rude to sneak into my performance and not offer me at least one dance… or something better. So—" her mouth curves, "what are you going to give me instead?"
