The Dancing Princess

As soon as we were seated at the long, oak dining table—its surface polished to a shine, set with silver cutlery and crystal goblets—a porter in a crisp, dark uniform hastened to Leon's side. He leaned in, his voice dropping to a urgent whisper, his eyes darting toward the door as he spoke. I watched Leon’s jaw tighten, his brows knitting into a frown, the relaxed smile he’d worn just moments ago fading. He turned to me, his violet eyes softening slightly, as if trying to mask his concern. "I need to leave for a while—there’s a matter with the guard patrols I have to address. I'll be back before you finish your soup," Leon said, pressing a quick, warm kiss to my forehead before standing. His hand brushed mine briefly, a silent reassurance, before he followed the porter toward the castle’s west wing, his strides long and purposeful. My heart felt empty as I watched Leon's retreating back, the chair beside me growing cold already. I stirred the creamy vegetable soup in my bowl with a sp