The Ice Belle didn't care that the King of Valerion himself was in the room, nor that the Empress of Lechia stood only a few steps away. Her whole world was still the chunk of steak in her tiny hands. She perched proudly on Lucas's chest, chewing with small, greedy bites, her cheeks puffing slightly with each mouthful. Grease and juice smeared her chin and fingers, streaks of oil glistening against her pale, crystalline skin. The way she tore into the food so innocently made even the Empress pause, the veil on her face shifting with the ghost of a smile she didn't bother to hide.
The King, however, could only stare in silence. His eyes moved from the Ice Belle to Lira, who was frantically fixing her hair and straightening her clothes as if that could undo the embarrassment. "Forgive me, Your Majesty," she said, her voice barely a whisper, "she's still… learning manners."
