I kept looking at Lucy’s hips, my eyes following the steady rhythm without any sha at all.
She knew exactly what she was doing.
Every step she took was asured, slow, and confident, like she was performing on purpose.
She stayed just far enough ahead of , never turning back, yet sohow fully aware of my attention.
It felt tactical, almost playful, and she didn’t bother hiding it.
The way she walked made it impossible to look anywhere else, and she made sure of that.
The soft sway from side to side was the best show she could have offered, and she knew it.
Beside , Kalia walked quietly, her movents calr, her presence steady.
She only jiggled slightly as she walked, not trying to compete or draw attention.
She didn’t need to.
She simply stayed close, matching my pace, her shoulder occasionally brushing mine.
There was sothing grounding about her nearness, sothing that balanced Lucy’s bold display.
Between the two of them, the walk felt longer than it was, not because of distance, but because of the way every step held its own kind of tension.
It didn’t take us long before we reached the dining room.
The mont we stepped inside, the space opened up wide and grand, and the air felt heavier, richer.
The walls were dressed in red and golden curtains that fell smoothly from ceiling to floor, catching the light and reflecting it softly.
The colors made the room feel warm and powerful at the sa ti, like a place where important decisions were made and rembered.
In the middle of the room stood a long black wooden table, polished so well that it reflected the glow from the lights above.
The table stretched far, commanding attention, and it was already filled with dishes laid out neatly from one end to the other.
There were almost a dozen seats on each side, all perfectly aligned, waiting to be filled.
At the head of the table, however, were two seats that stood apart from the rest.
One was a huge golden chair that clearly belonged to the king.
Its size alone made a statent, with carved details that spoke of strength and authority.
Beside it sat a smaller chair, but no less exotic.
It was designed with just as much care, just as much beauty, and it clearly belonged to the queen.
And there, seated in the queen’s chair, was Maria.
She sat quietly, her posture proper, her hands resting together as she looked down, trying her best to hide her blushing face.
The color on her cheeks was impossible to miss, even with her eyes lowered.
She looked both proud and overwheld, as if she wasn’t yet used to sitting there, as if the chair itself carried weight she was still learning to hold.
Seeing the chance, Lucy’s previous smirk grew even wider.
She slowed her steps just enough to enjoy the mont, then turned her head slightly, her voice rising with dramatic flair as she said, "Look, Maria is dying to beco a queen, Ragnar. I hope you two keep it quiet tonight."
The words echoed just enough to draw attention, and Lucy clearly enjoyed every second of it.
Maria’s blush deepened instantly, spreading across her face like fire.
She squeezed her hands together, clearly caught between embarrassnt and sothing else she couldn’t quite hide.
I couldn’t help myself.
I smirked too, feeling the playful energy in the room, and replied, "Alright, let eat enough at to give my queen a good night in bed."
The mont the words left my mouth, it was like a switch flipped inside Maria’s mind.
She froze for a brief second, then slowly lifted her gaze and stared straight at .
Her eyes didn’t waver.
Without saying a word, she suddenly reached for my plate.
Before I could react, she began filling it, moving quickly but carefully, scooping from every dish on the table.
She didn’t hesitate.
at, sides, sauces, everything found its way onto the plate.
She worked with focus, as if she had a mission she had just accepted.
Lucy tugged at my arm, laughing under her breath, but I let it happen.
I simply walked to my seat and sat down, letting Maria continue.
The mont I sat, Maria pushed the plate toward .
It was filled with each part of every dish on the table, stacked high enough to form a small mountain.
It was almost impressive.
Thankfully, Maria clearly knew what type of food to choose, balancing flavors and portions so it actually made sense as a al.
I looked at the plate, then at her, and nodded with a smile.
"Thank you, Maria."
Her face turned even redder, if that was possible.
She swallowed and managed to say, "It’s my duty as the queen."
There was sothing sincere in her voice, sothing that went beyond the words themselves.
I held her gaze for a mont, smiling softly, then turned to my food and dug in.
The first bite was rich and satisfying, and the room slowly began to fill with movent as everyone else took their seats.
At so point, all the girls settled in, each filling her plate from the dishes laid out before them.
The sound of cutlery, quiet conversations, and soft laughter blended together, creating an atmosphere that felt alive.
Smiles were exchanged, jokes were shared, and the heavy air of the room transford into sothing lighter, warr.
The dining room was filled with laughter and joy, the kind that ca naturally, the kind that didn’t need to be forced.
It didn’t take long until we finished eating.
The banquet had been lively, the laughter of the nobles echoing through the vast hall, the clinking of silverware punctuating the conversation.
Even with the grandeur of the event, my mind had barely touched the pleasures of the feast.
The castle itself was enormous, more magnificent than I had rembered.
Its walls seed to breathe with history, each stone telling a story of the kings and queens who had walked its halls before .
Corridors stretched endlessly, so lined with tapestries so old the colors had softened into gentle whispers of the past.
Each of us could take a couple of rooms for himself, and I felt a rare sense of freedom as I considered which quarters I would claim for the night.
The luxury of it, the silence away from the court, promised a respite I had not felt in months.
I could almost hear the castle exhaling after a day full of life, a gentle settling into the calm of night.
I walked toward the royal bedroom to sleep.
My steps were slow, deliberate, lazy almost, as if the castle itself urged to take my ti, to savor each corridor, each door, each familiar shadow that flickered under the torchlight.
The path felt endless, yet not in a tiring way, more like a quiet ditation before the day’s demands pressed down on my shoulders again.
My robe brushed softly against the floor, and for once, I felt the heaviness of my crown lighten, at least for these few steps.
And then, reaching my room, I pushed the door open, and froze.
The scene that greeted was sothing I had not anticipated, sothing that made the pulse in my chest quicken and the air in the room feel suddenly thinner.
Maria was there, in my bed, lying as if she belonged there, though logic and etiquette scread that she should not.
The moonlight poured through the open window, spilling across the room in silvery beams, and it hit her so perfectly that she looked almost unreal.
Her white nightgown clung gently to her form, soft folds shifting with the gentle breeze that slipped through the open window.
Her hair, blonde and untad, fanned across the pillow, catching the moonlight in strands that seed almost to glow.
Her skin was pale, but not fragile-looking, rather, it held a soft luminescence, like porcelain kissed by the first touch of dawn.
Every subtle rise and fall of her chest under the delicate fabric spoke of the quiet rhythm of sleep, the peacefulness of a soul unburdened in a way I rarely experienced myself.
The breeze continued to flow into the room, teasing the hem of her nightgown, moving it softly over her legs, creating a dance as quiet and intimate as the night itself.
I felt a strange mixture of wonder and hesitation.
Part of wanted to speak, to announce my presence, but another part was rooted to the spot, unwilling to disturb the fragile perfection of the mont.
"Maria..." I whispered, barely louder than the sound of the wind.
The syllable hovered between us, and yet she did not stir.
The stillness was almost hypnotic, the way the moonlight fell across her face, highlighting the gentle curve of her cheek, the slight crease at the corner of her closed eyes that hinted at laughter she had shared earlier.
I stepped closer, each movent careful and deliberate, mindful not to disturb the gentle scene.
There was sothing intimate in watching her like this, sothing that made my chest tighten as I slowly walked to her.
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