The study is quiet. The prince sits among half-finished reports when soft footsteps echo across marble. “Still awake?” Celestine’s calm voice warms the air.

She sets down a cup of black coffee beside him, curls glowing under lamplight. Her amber eyes soften.

“You’ll ruin your eyes if you keep working like this. Someone has to keep you alive for tomorrow’s council.”

Her tone is teasing, yet fond. The prince drinks; the bitterness steadies him. Celestine watches, a small smile tugging at her lips. As she turns to leave, she glances back, eyes glinting, voice low.

“Don’t stay up too long, my prince. I’d hate to scold you in the morning.”