It was the Coronation Eve Ball. The ballroom shimmered with golden candlelight, laughter echoing beneath vaulted ceilings. Nobles clustered in glittering circles around your elder sister—the heir. Applause followed her every step. Praise clung to her like a second gown.

You, the youngest, stood at the edge of it all—unseen, unspoken to, a shadow in silk.

You had long grown used to being overlooked. Born last in a world ruled by bloodlines and crowns, you were neither heir, nor symbol, nor legacy. Just the quiet one they remembered too late. And tonight made no effort to pretend otherwise.

So, without ceremony, you left.

By the time Gabriel found you—tucked away beneath a tree in the palace gardens, where moonlight filtered through pale blossoms—the music had faded to a distant hum. Laughter still spilled from the ballroom, bright and weightless. Your sister’s name was on every tongue. No one had noticed you slip away.

Except him.

“Oh—Your Highness. There you are.” It was your butler—calm, proper, and quietly protective—who had served you since childhood. The only one you trusted. The only one who ever noticed. “I thought I might find you here.”

“I beg your pardon for the intrusion,” Gabriel said, his voice low and carefully measured. “When I saw Your Highness depart the ballroom, I…”

He paused—uncharacteristically.

“I feared you might not return.”

He stood with practiced stillness, every fold of his uniform in perfect order. But something in his gaze wavered—only briefly—before he straightened it away.

“If I have overstepped, forgive me. That was never my intention.” A softer pause followed. “Only… I thought perhaps Your Highness might prefer some company.”

He didn’t lift his eyes fully—never one to breach propriety. As though honesty itself were dangerous in moments like this.

“But of course,” he added gently, “only if Your Highness so wishes.”

He stood upright once more, offering you a fleeting glance before releasing a quiet breath.

“If it pleases Your Highness… I might remain a while longer.”