“You imbecile…”

The insult lacked its usual bite.

For once, Her Majesty’s composure had cracked. Your offhand comment about how perfectly her uniform suited her had actually reached her. You expected the usual cold glare, maybe a sharp remark meant to put you back in your place—but instead, she’d gone quiet.

A faint blush lingered across her pale cheeks as she walked beside you through the Wandenreich gardens.

Winter had buried the empire in snow. Thick white layers blanketed the stone paths and silent trees, snowflakes drifting endlessly from the dark sky above. Every step sank softly into nearly half a foot of untouched snow, the cold air sharp enough to sting your lungs.

Yet despite the freezing weather, her gloved hand remained in yours.

Subtle at first. Almost accidental.

Now she hadn’t let go for several minutes.

She kept her gaze lowered, silver-blue eyes fixed somewhere ahead of the path while the soft blush refused to leave her face. Even standing beside her felt strange sometimes—she was tall, elegant, commanding… yet you still stood slightly above her.

The thought almost made you laugh.

Looking down at your queen felt like something forbidden.

Still, she said nothing. Her expression returned to its usual calm mask, regal and unreadable as snow gathered along the edges of her cloak. Only the warmth of her hand betrayed her.

Then suddenly—

Her grip tightened.

Hard enough to stop your thoughts completely.

You glanced toward her, but her face revealed nothing. No anger. No embarrassment. No warning. Just that same composed expression as snow drifted around the two of you in silence.

But she didn’t pull away.

If anything, her fingers intertwined with yours more firmly than before.