A Transmigrated Princess's Guide To A Fluffy Royal Life!-Chapter 51: Can I Have This Dance?

"But when Isolde passed..." He took a long breath. "He didn’t come. Sent a letter. A sealed one. And said... said he couldn’t leave the capital because of a summit. A treaty negotiation with the Ruelan delegation."

He looked down at her, expression unreadable.

"You understand, little one? My wife died. The woman who gave her all for the Kingdom, the one who prayed for our victory with her own mouth and stood beside me when I nearly bled out in the snow."

Evelisse swallowed. "I... I understand why you’d feel abandoned."

"I would’ve crossed kingdoms barefoot for him," Altair said, voice like cold iron. "And he could not cross the sea for me."

Silence.

Heavy. Full of hurt not yet released.

"I never even opened that letter," he said finally. "Didn’t want his regrets. Didn’t want his excuses." freewebnσvel.cøm

Evelisse looked down at her gloved hands, then up at him.

"I don’t remember everything, Your Grace," she said slowly. "But... I know my father. And I know he doesn’t treat friendship lightly."

Altair didn’t respond.

"He’s stubborn," she added gently. "Like a tower with no doors, mother says. But he loves deeply. Even if he shows it badly sometimes."

Still no reply.

Evelisse looked back out at the moonlit garden.

"What if he didn’t come because... because he feared what it would do to him?" she whispered. "What if being there—seeing her laid to rest—would’ve broken the part of him that knew how to lead?"

Altair blinked.

"What if," she said softly, "he sent that letter not as an excuse... but as his only way to be there, even when he couldn’t breathe without cracking?"

He looked at her fully now, the edges of his gaze no longer quite so sharp.

’Say something,’ she thought. ’Even if you shout.’

Instead, he murmured, "He’s sent me letters every season. Did you know that?"

She shook her head.

"I burned the first few. Then stopped throwing them into the fire. Thought he was just trying to ease his conscience."

"And now?"

Altair was quiet again.

Then said, "Now... I’m not sure."

They stood together in the hush, where only the soft lull of the orchestra and garden breeze surrounded them.

Evelisse straightened her spine. "Then allow me to make a humble request, Your Grace."

Altair raised a brow. "A request?"

She took a breath. Her cheeks flushed just slightly pink.

"If you can forgive me for saying so... I think you look quite dashing tonight. But you’d look even more regal... if you smiled."

The duke blinked.

"Are you trying to negotiate with flattery, little one?" he asked dryly.

"No," Evelisse said brightly. "I’m trying to sneak joy into your evening while pretending it’s a negotiation."

A strange sound rumbled in his chest.

A laugh.

Short.

Barely there.

But real.

And then—he smiled.

Not a wide grin. Not a beam.

But a faint curve of lips.

Like something ancient remembering what warmth felt like.

[♡ Affection Points Increased: +50]

[Total points accumulated so far: 890♡]

Evelisse’s heart fluttered with glee. "There! That’s the one. You look like someone the world would write poems about."

"You’re dangerously good at this," Altair muttered, crossing his arms. "Are you sure you’re only seven?"

"I’m seven, but seasoned," she replied with full dignity. "The system says I can have extra affection points."

"...The what?"

"Nothing. A private royal matter," she said quickly.

Altair chuckled—actually chuckled—and looked away to hide it.

’Fluffy you better see this,’ she thought triumphantly.

"I see... I can tell you’re making a breakthrough." Fluffy acknowledged with a nod.

Then she tilted her head, her tone shifting just slightly—quieter, more sincere.

"I truly do wish to help, Your Grace. Even if I cannot fix the past... perhaps I can help heal the space between you and Father."

Altair’s eyes softened.

"You’re a brave child, Evelisse of Florabelle."

"Bravery is just kindness with extra steps," she said.

"You sound like Isolde again."

She smiled. "That’s the best compliment I’ve ever received."

For a moment, the ballroom faded.

It was just them. A little girl in silver shoes, and a hardened war-duke with cracks he forgot he had.

Then Evelisse stepped forward, folded her hands in front of her, and said the words that made his brows rise a full inch.

"May I ask for the honor of a dance, Duke Altair?"

For one entire heartbeat, Duke Altair just stared at her—as though a tiny, tiara-wearing noble sprite had suddenly asked him to leap off a cliff.

"...A dance?" he repeated.

Evelisse nodded with regal determination, though her hands were clasped behind her back like a squirrel bracing for incoming acorns.

"Yes, Your Grace. Just one. As a sign of goodwill," she said earnestly. "And to help oil the dusty hinges of your friendship with my father."

Altair arched a brow so high it nearly entered another tax bracket. "I haven’t danced in years. Especially not with royalty under four feet tall."

"I’m technically four feet and a smidge," Evelisse corrected primly. "And it’s not like I’ll be spinning you across the floor. I thought we’d just... bop gently. To the rhythm. Like well-dressed potatoes."

"...Potatoes?"

"Yes! Fancy ones. Like the kind served at state dinners. You can do all the actual moving. I’ll just sway and try not to step on your toes."

Altair let out a sharp, unguarded laugh. "That may be the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard at a royal event. And I once saw your brother Jared turn a toast into an opera solo."

"I helped approve the lyrics," Evelisse said proudly.

"Of course you did."

She twirled on her heel and posed like a miniature lady knight preparing for battle. "It’ll be fun. And think of the headlines: Reclusive War Duke Dances With Adorable Princess, Triggers Kingdom-Wide Swoon Epidemic."

Altair pinched the bridge of his nose like he was being personally assaulted by her optimism. "You don’t give up, do you?"

"I’m a Royal Persistence Unit," she said. "Very exclusive model."

"...If I say yes, will I be allowed to retreat after two minutes without causing scandal?"

"Yes. You’ll even get a thank-you cookie from me after."

"A cookie?"

She nodded solemnly. "Peach blossom shortbread. Baked by royal chefs. Possibly enchanted."

Altair let out another low chuckle, like a thundercloud learning to hum.

"Very well, little lady. But you should know, I’m nearly twice your height."

"I know. You’re like a walking clock tower."

"And you’re barely up to my belt."

Evelisse grinned mischievously. "Then just make sure to avoid twirling too hard. I might launch into orbit."

He sighed—deep and theatrical—and extended one hand. "Lead the way, then. Let’s scandalize the court."

Updat𝒆d fr𝒐m freew𝒆bnov𝒆l.c(o)m