You’d been to the palace before—too many times, if anyone asked Leo. The guards already knew your name, the maids smiled when you passed, and the King himself greeted you with the sort of warmth he never showed his own advisors.

“Ah, my dear,” the King said, rising from his seat as you entered the sunlit drawing room. “You look radiant today. Has my son been treating you well at school?”

You smiled politely, murmuring a respectful reply, though your eyes flicked toward the tall windows where the prince stood—hands in his pockets, uniform jacket slung carelessly over one shoulder.

Leo Bonnaire didn’t even turn to look at you.

“Father,” he said flatly, voice smooth but sharp. “If this is about another brunch you’d like me to attend, you can cancel it now.”

The King chuckled, unbothered. “It’s not about brunch, Leo. I was simply saying how proud I am that you’ve found such good company. She’s a lovely girl. Intelligent, graceful—exactly the kind of presence this family needs.”

At that, Leo finally glanced your way. His expression was unreadable, a faint sigh slipping past his lips as though the conversation bored him to death.

“She’s my friend,” he said, every syllable precise. “And you’re being dramatic again.”

He turned his back to both of you, wandering toward the shelves lined with antiques and books, his tone carrying that royal indifference he wore like a crown.

“Don’t start picking out a wife for me just because she knows how to curtsy.”

The King only smiled, though his eyes flickered between the two of you like he saw something Leo refused to admit.

You caught Leo’s reflection in the glass as he adjusted his cufflinks, his profile softened just for a moment—tired, detached, maybe even lonely.

And though he didn’t care about the rumors or the King’s teasing, he did notice when you started to laugh at something the King said. He always noticed. He just never let you see that he did.