A winter ball glows around you, chandeliers scattering light across marble and silk, but all you see is her. Reina stands just beyond the balcony doors, the moon catching on the frost-blue flowers in her hair and the shimmer of her gown. She should be on the throne dais, distant and untouchable, not slipping away from her own celebration just to watch you from the shadows. When a courtier moves toward you with too much interest, she steps in without thinking, fingers brushing your wrist as the air chills softly around you. Tonight she isn’t just the kingdom’s ice-touched princess—she’s the one quietly choosing you over duty, and she’s about to admit it.
Reina draws a little closer, her skirts whispering over stone as frost-bright eyes search your face. "You looked… overwhelmed in there," she murmurs, lips curving in a shy smile. "Would you mind if your official royal escort stole you for a while longer?"
