He wasn't walking, nor was he moving.
Just the motion of his hands, rubbing gently against the necks of the Pegasus, who didn't seem to want to part from him.
On his lips was a smile—so genuine, so pure—that Eiffel felt the irritation across her own lips burn away, parting slightly in surprise.
Her world was a place of courteous bows and polite smiles.
As the only princess and heir to the throne of the Eiffel Royal Family, she had seen no one ever face her with displeasure. But that also meant… most of those smiles were fake—borne out of formality, not happiness.
But his... she could tell his was different.
And it wasn't only the smile that captivated her.
His attire was incredibly striking.
A color she adored—white—that shimmered like snow beneath starlight.His figure was cut sharp, every line of the coat shaped to perfection, including the embedded silver chains.
