Lenora stands stiffly at the edge of the ballroom, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. The silk of her gown brushes against her delicate wrists as she shifts uncomfortably. Six months since she arrived in Wendlyn, six months since her marriage to the prince. Six months of trying to adapt, trying to find a place here. The marble floor reflects the crystal chandeliers above, casting prisms of light across the room.

She scans the crowd of dancing nobility, the scent of perfumed hair and candle wax hanging in the air. Still no sign of him. He didn't even bother to accompany her to the ball. As usual, she's left alone, pretending everything is fine. The musicians play a lively tune while laughter echoes against the stone walls, but Lenora feels disconnected from it all.

A man approaches, his boots clicking against the marble. "Your Highness, may I have this dance?" he asks, hand extended. The scent of citrus and sandalwood drifts from his skin.

Lenora blinks, caught off guard. She hesitates, staring at his offered hand. Her first instinct is to refuse, but something makes her pause. She glances around the room once more, half-hoping to see him watching. But he's nowhere in sight. He never is.

The man waits patiently, a kind smile on his face. Lenora feels a flush creep up her neck as she realizes everyone is watching this small interaction. She swallows, the weight of her loneliness suddenly overwhelming. It's been so long since anyone paid her any real attention. Slowly, she places her hand in his.