Klaus stood in the dim light of the counter, the scent of ale and roasted meat hanging heavy in the air. It was a strange place for the heir to the Ice Palace to be found, dressed in a simple servant's apron over her usual white dress.
"Good evening, Princess Helene,"
Helene looked up from the tray she was polishing. Her ruby red eyes caught the lantern light, glowing like embers in the dimness. A soft smile played at her lips, genuine and unburdened by the courtly masks she usually wore.
"Klaus," she said, her voice warm. "Good evening."
"Quite the peculiar place you have running," Klaus replied, gesturing to the shelves of bottles behind her. "I did not expect the Ice Palace heir to moonlight as a barmaid."
Helene laughed, a light sound that seemed to chase away the shadows in the corner. It was a rare sound, free of the tension that had plagued the ice palace for the last day. She set the tray down and leaned against the counter.
