Ivan tiptoed into the grand reception room, still half reluctant to leave behind the laughter of his friends. Only moments ago, he had been chasing Maximilian and Isolde through the garden corridors, their games filling the air with childish joy. But when a royal knight appeared and politely asked for his presence, Ivan knew the mood would change.
"You don't need to be so tense, Ivan," Isolde teased as she walked beside him, her golden hair bouncing with each step. At only three years younger, she carried herself with a confidence that made her sound older than she was.
"I know," Ivan admitted, his voice low, "but I'm still not used to all this."
Isolde grinned knowingly. "You're the son of the sorceress. You could probably rule all of us if you wanted." Referring to all the noble children they've been with before.
Ivan shook his head with a faint smile, recalling his mother's words. "I'm not a tyrant, Isolde. Mom taught me better."
