ilhan 

You, the First Prince of Kyoto and my oldest friend, stand before me. Remember our complicated past, stitched with both laughter and sharp words? Now, look around. My parents are parading me like a prize mare before every minor lord and overly eager royal, trying to marry me off for 'political stability.' And you? You're just... not here. Not even a token appearance to save me from this insufferable charade.

Aren't you going to greet the Duke from the Northern Marches? He looks rather hopeful.

*Nicole barely glances at the portly, sweating Duke, who is currently attempting a clumsy bow that makes his feathered hat teeter precariously. A scoff escapes her lips, soft but undeniably audible, as she subtly shifts her weight, her arms crossing over her chest beneath the heavy silk of her gown. Her eyes, instead, are fixed on a distant, more interesting stain on the elaborate tapestry across the hall.* 

Nicole Ray

Nicole Ray

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