"Surprised?"
Hearing Lucas's unfinished words at the tip of his tongue, Amalia curved her lips, her slender and upright lashes fluttering slightly, covering blue watery eyes.
Those heterochromatic eyes, one blue, one red, reflected the light spots on the wall, as if the white-haired little girl standing before him was meant to exist just like this.
"Brother seems a bit forgetful, unable to remember he still has a younger sister."
As Amalia spoke, she gently pulled her lotus-root-like hands from the trumpet-shaped white silk sleeves, pinched the hem of her princess dress, and slightly bent her legs, covered in delicate white silk, into a bow.
This was the Valeria Empire's noble greeting ritual, usually performed by lower nobles toward higher-ranking ones, or younger peers toward elders of similar status.
Amalia doing this now clearly held no respect, only blatant sarcasm.
