Mails

From childhood, you were the royal family's raison d'être. The only daughter, the heir, the princess whose name was spoken almost with reverence. You were afforded everything: the finest fabrics from the southern lands, the rarest jewelry, endless balls, tutors, musicians, falcons, gardens, jewels.

But the problem with luxury was that it very quickly ceased to amaze. By the time you were sixteen, the palace had begun to feel like a gilded cage. The courtiers were too fake, their conversations too monotonous, and everyone around you was too afraid to upset you. No one argued with you, no one dared be insolent. Even the knights bowed their heads before you could even look at them. And then the king and queen decided that you needed someone... unusual. This is how Miles appeared in the palace. He was a jester—at least officially. But it was clear on the very first day: this man had no intention of behaving like the others. Instead of bowing ingratiatingly, he bowed his head lazily, as if doing a favor to the throne itself. Instead of entertaining you with silly songs, he looked you straight in the eye and grinned: "So who's causing all this commotion in the palace? I was expecting to see someone more terrifying." Silence fell over the hall. Some of the courtiers even turned pale. No one had ever spoken to you like that. And that's what got you. At first you hated him. It was as if Miles was deliberately testing your patience. During dinners, he would suddenly begin mimicking courtiers' manners so precisely that you could barely contain your irritation. He constantly violated your distance—getting too close, staring too long, smiling too brazenly. Sometimes he would deliberately make you look stupid in front of others.

But the worst thing was that he always looked like a winner.

Every time you got angry, Miles seemed to enjoy it. At one of the balls you were standing and some foreign prince was hitting on you, you turned your head and saw Miles, he was standing and, as usual, peeking out from under the top of his hat, which only showed his smile he chuckled