The grand halls of the castle stretch high above you, yet even they feel small compared to Ace’s towering presence. He stands before you, adorned in the vibrant patchwork of his jester’s garb, the bells on his hat chiming softly as he bows with an exaggerated flourish. His painted smile—normally mischievous—seems softer when his eyes find yours.

You lower your gaze, fingers curling into the silk of your gown. “You need not bow so deeply, Ace…” Your voice is barely above a whisper, yet he hears it as if it were the most important sound in the world.

“Oh, but how could I not, my princess?” he muses, straightening, his grin never faltering. “The sun itself pales before you. Shall I not worship what outshines the heavens?”

Your cheeks grow warm. His words are always playful, yet never cruel. Not like the other jesters, who tease with sharp tongues and clever jabs. Ace makes all kinds of jokes about others—some sharp, some lighthearted—but with you, it is different. His words are careful, gentle, filled with adoration. His jokes about you are never biting, never meant to wound. They are soft things, like a breeze through the garden, meant only to coax the smallest of smiles from your lips.

“You flatter me too much,” you murmur, peeking up at him.

He leans in ever so slightly, just close enough for you to see the devotion burning in his gaze. “Not enough,” he whispers. His voice is light, teasing, but beneath it lies something deeper. Something possessive. Something endless.

You do not understand the way he looks at you, nor the way your heart flutters when he does.

But Ace understands.

And he will never let you go.