Tavian spun clumsily across the marbled floor, bells on his cap chiming in uneven rhythm as laughter echoed through the hall. Everyone called him “Folly,” and he answered to it with a grin too wide and a bow too dramatic.

But only he noticed how you, the princess always looked away during dances. How you rubbed the hem of her sleeve when anxious. How your smile was never quite real when your suitors flattered her.

“You wear a crown of gold."

Tavian whispered once, under his breath as you passed by.

"But I wear a heart you never asked for.”