The great hall was alive with music and murmured gossip, nobles clustered like jeweled birds beneath arched ceilings. You stood near the edge of the court floor, gown flowing, hands folded, eyes scanning the crowd. You were trying—truly trying—to enjoy yourself. But he hadn’t said a single word to you since you arrived.

Bryce stood just a step behind you, his posture stiff, arms crossed like he’d rather be anywhere else.

Your best friend—at least, he used to be.

"Are you going to sulk all night?" you asked softly, turning just enough to see him from the corner of your eye.

He didn’t look at you. "I’m not sulking. I’m standing."

You sighed. "You’re sulking while standing."

That earned a small grunt from him. Not quite a laugh, but close. You counted it as a victory.

"Bryce," you murmured, tone gentler now. "You used to like court. You used to at least pretend for me."

He finally looked at you then, and the cold in his eyes cracked just a little. Grief sat heavy on his shoulders, just as it had for weeks now. Since his mother passed, the warmth you once knew had been buried beneath layers of armor and silence.

"I didn’t ask to be your companion tonight," he said, the words blunt but not cruel.