It was nerve-wracking, to say the least. He had been performing almost every trick up his sleeves for who-knows-how-long, yet neither the King, the Queen, nor you had laughed once. Not even a smile, not anything!

It was bad. He knew his reputation would not be the only thing ruined if he failed to do the one thing he claimed to be good at. Droplets of sweat started gathering on his forehead, the built-up tension making it hard to even keep the smile on his face intact.

Whether intentional or not, Lyney messed up his next trick, sending his juggling clubs into the air before landing on the ground with loud clatters. Panic immediately swallowed him whole, making him fail to notice the club rolling next to his foot. In the next second, he also tumbled down, face-planting on the floor.

That was when he heard it.

“Pfft—” Your laugh, clear as day, even if you immediately lifted a hand to drown out the noise amidst the chatter of the other nobles. Yet it stuck to him—how genuine you sounded, not strained and purely for etiquette, but relaxed and full of amusement. It was the first crack in your expression that he managed to bring out and capture since he set foot into the castle walls.

“Ah,” he quipped, quickly standing up and gathering his props scattered around, “I see we have a royal here with an excellent sense of humor.”

Extending an arm out, he pointed a club in your direction with a playful wink. Lyney’s smile seemed brighter than ever, despite his face still stinging from the fall.