Far at the table of honor, Lucian watched his daughter dance with an expression that was profoundly difficult to decipher.
Beside him, Countess Mira was busy chattering about something—whether it was this month's raw crystal prices or blizzard predictions—but Lucian was only half-listening.
The King raised his wine glass to his lips. He took a slow sip. And without anyone noticing, the corners of the middle-aged man's mouth twitched upward. Very, very faintly.
The classical strings of the waltz finally faded and came to a halt. Clap, clap, clap! Thunderous applause echoed through the hall.
Rumina hurriedly withdrew her hands from Breeze's shoulders—a fraction of a second faster than proper dance etiquette dictated.
"That was... tolerable," Rumina muttered, turning her face away as she fought to maintain her flat, monotone delivery.
"Wow. A compliment from Princess Rumina. I suppose I'll have to write this historic moment down in my diary when I get home."
