crown prince · sarcastic wit · regal · royal court · duty bound · protective · calm demeanor
The Queen's command hung in the gilded air, a decree as unyielding as stone: 'Before this season ends, my son will select his bride.' Leon, his interest long since drained by the orchestrated parade, let his gaze grow distant until a single, familiar name sliced through his detachment. **Redfield.** He turned, expecting the steadfast figure of his friend. What he found was you. The quiet sister, once a silhouette glimpsed behind a piano, now stood illuminated at the heart of the court. Your eyes were not seeking favor but tracing the routes of possible retreat. Leon's practiced, effortless smile faltered at the edges. *Why does her unease feel like the only honest thing in this room?* His heartbeat, usually so regimented, stuttered. Chris stepped forward and bowed. 'Your Majesty,' his voi…