Prince Larus stood near the center of the hall, surrounded by a cluster of admirers—mostly ladies of the court, though a few ministers had been drawn into his orbit by sheer charisma. He was dressed in full Marus regalia tonight: golden threads woven through deep bronze fabrics, more jewelry than usual, his hair loose and gleaming like burnished gold. He looked like a king already.
But when his blue eyes met hers across the room, the polite smile he'd been wearing faltered.
Just for a heartbeat.
Then it returned, brighter, warmer, but Heena could see the truth beneath it.
He wasn't ready to leave either.
She walked toward him, the crowd parting automatically. Nobles bowed as she passed, murmuring "Your Majesty" in hushed tones.
Larus extricated himself from his admirers with effortless grace and met her halfway.
"Your Majesty," he said, bowing low, one hand pressed to his chest in the Marus style. "You look radiant tonight."
