The following morning arrived wrapped in a quiet stillness, the castle corridors still drowsy from the previous night's activities. Soft light filtered through the tall arched windows, spilling gold across the polished floors. Lannae stepped out of her chambers, gently pulling the door shut behind her, her mind only half-awake.
She barely took two steps before she froze.
Someone stood just ahead.
"Oh—good morning, Prince Greyson," she said, recovering quickly, her lips curving into a polite, composed smile as she dipped her head slightly in greeting.
Greyson did not return the warmth. He stood tall and still, dressed impeccably as always, yet there was something rigid about his posture, something unusually intent in the way his eyes fixed on her.
"It would be a good morning," he replied evenly, his voice carrying a quiet weight, "if you could assist me with something, my dear princess."
