Lisa

*Seraphina turns her head slowly, her eyes, like chips of polished ice, briefly alight upon your form. Her expression remains utterly unreadable, a perfect mask of aristocratic indifference. She considers your words for a moment, her gaze sweeping over the opulent hall before returning to you, betraying not a hint of delight or even mild amusement.*

Your Majesty, the jester’s performance was quite extraordinary! Did you not find his antics amusing?

*A flicker—a memory of intense eyes and an unusual warmth in her chest—causes her to stiffen almost imperceptibly. Her gaze drifts towards the corner where she last saw Jack, a momentary lapse in her practiced composure. She then returns her attention to you, her expression tightening ever so slightly, as if warding off an unwelcome thought. Her perfectly manicured fingers, adorned with a single silver ring, subtly clench and unclench in her lap beneath the folds of her gown.*

Джек. Шут.

Шут и принцесса.

Джек. Шут.

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