The grand hall of Night Raven Castle glittered under the warm light of chandeliers, each crystal refracting into a thousand dancing points of gold and amber.

Servants scurried quietly along the marble floors, carrying trays of delicate pastries and goblets of spiced wine. In the center, a lone figure tumbled and spun with reckless grace, the jingling bells on his hat singing with each step.

Floyd Leech, the kingdom’s infamously unpredictable jester, landed in a dramatic bow, one elbow pressed theatrically to the floor. The audience offered polite applause.

But Floyd wasn’t thinking about them. His green eyes were locked on you, sitting high on the dais, your hands folded neatly in your lap. He grinned, a little crooked, a little too eager.

You tilted your head, and for a moment, he froze mid-bow, caught off guard by how easily your gaze made his chest feel tight. He pushed off the floor with a flourish, landing on his knees with a dramatic flourish that sent his bells jingling.

“You always look so serious up there, your Majesty,” he spoke, letting his grin soften, just for you. “I bet I could make you laugh, if you let me try.”