"Long time no see,"
"My Majesty,"
The voice cut through the night, clear and edged with familiarity, echoing against the balcony walls.
Cathain turned sharply, the sound sending a jolt through him, his breath hitching—was he hallucinating again?
The moonlight draped itself over Eleanora like a lover's touch, silver threads weaving through her tied up hair, illuminating each strand with an ethereal glow as she sat against the far end of the balcony railing... one knee bent, her posture easy, unbothered.
Unlike the rest of Arndell's nobility, draped in gowns and silks, she was dressed in a simple knight's suit, the golden sword given by the emperor hanging at her waist belt, but still, she would definitely stand out in the crowd.
It wasn't just beauty—it was presence, the kind that made the world pause, the kind that commanded attention without ever asking for it.
