A Transmigrated Princess's Guide To A Fluffy Royal Life!-Chapter 52: On His Shoulders!!!

The reaction in the ballroom was immediate.

Music didn’t stop, but several bows did.

All eyes turned.

Nobles stared with subtle gasps. A few diplomats spilled their wine. Somewhere in the background, one of Evelisse’s brothers said "What the—?" so sharply it could slice cheese.

And Evelisse?

Evelisse held her head high.

She led Altair—not by the hand, because even she knew that would be awkward—but by a confident little nod, as if she were the most important seven-year-old on the planet.

"Remember," she whispered, "no fast spins. My tiara’s on extra tight, but I don’t trust physics."

Altair murmured back, "I’ll try not to launch you like a cannonball."

They took their place near the edge of the floor.

The music—a gentle waltz—flowed like a warm breeze.

Evelisse didn’t expect to be lifted or twirled or dipped like the older ladies. She simply wanted to move. Light on her feet. Tiny glides. Letting the rhythm and her ridiculous courage carry her.

Altair bowed slightly. She curtsied—elegantly, flawlessly—and then they began.

A small sway.

A gentle step.

And then—

Laughter.

Soft and stunned, rippling around the room like sunlight breaking through clouds.

Because no one had ever seen *him* like this.

The Duke of Orlean.

Stiff, stern, and infamous for scaring off suitors with a single glare—

Now lightly stepping to a waltz, guided by a bright-eyed girl half his size, who whispered every so often, "You’re doing great, Your Grace! Just two more steps till the cookie!"

Up on the royal dais, Queen Seraphina’s gloved hand covered her mouth in surprised delight.

King Aldric, quiet and still, watched the scene unfold with a strange, unreadable look.

And Lucien?

Lucien muttered, "She’s either a genius... or an actual fairy in disguise."

Jared, beside him, whispered, "I give it ten seconds before he hoists her onto his shoulders."

Leo bet five gold coins that it would be fifteen.

It happened at eleven.

"Brace yourself," Altair said softly. "I’m improvising."

"Huh—?"

And suddenly, Evelisse found herself airborne.

Not far. Not dangerously.

Just—

Lifted.

A strong arm gently scooped her up, and within seconds, she was balanced on the Duke’s shoulders like a tiny, glittering crown of chaos.

The ballroom exploded in cheers.

Musicians hiccupped, then doubled the tempo.

The dance floor turned into a sea of spinning colors, but all eyes stayed on them.

Evelisse threw her arms out dramatically like a triumphant knight claiming victory.

"Behold! The tallest dance partner in all the kingdoms!"

Fluffy—hidden in her sleeve—nearly fainted from pride. "This is it! This is peak adorable diplomacy!"

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But Evelisse didn’t notice the screen.

She was too busy laughing, riding a Duke like a majestic parade float.

Altair finally slowed, stepping aside from the dance floor with a small smile tugging at his lips. He gently lowered her to the floor.

She landed with the poise of a thousand tiny duchesses.

"Thank you," she said, panting slightly but glowing like a sunrise. "That was the most fun I’ve had since I used Felix’s hair tonic to glue cookies to the ceiling."

Altair looked like he wanted to laugh again, but instead, he gave her a deep, proper bow.

"The honor," he said quietly, "was mine."

They locked eyes.

And in that moment—amidst the shock and stunned awe of the court—it felt like something long broken had started to mend.

But before she could say anything more—

"EVELISSE!"

A chorus of voices broke through the awe-struck hush.

She turned.

Her brothers were marching toward her across the ballroom floor like a royal battalion of concerned chaos.

Lucien in front, his expression unreadable but his strides controlled. Jared was smirking, Callum trailing with a small sketchpad somehow already scribbling something. Marcus held a sprig of mint in his gloved fingers like he’d wandered out of a garden party, and the twins—Leo and Lance—were practically bouncing with competitive energy.

Felix, of course, reached her first.

"Did you just—was that—you danced with the DUKE?" he gasped, eyes wide and sparkling. "That’s so—so—you’re SO BRAVE!"

Evelisse giggled. "It wasn’t scary, Brother Felix. He’s very polite. Like a knight who forgot he owns half the country."

Felix grabbed her hands, beaming. "Then it’s my turn next!"

"Mine," Leo cut in.

"No, mine!" Lance elbowed his twin.

"Settle," Lucien said mildly, kneeling to pat Snugglewuff who had jogged over, tongue out and tail wagging like a fuzzy metronome. "One at a time."

Evelisse blinked at him. "Big Brother... are you... smiling?"

He gave her the faintest nod. "You did well. Mother and Father are proud."

Then Jared chimed in, "And I, for one, demand a dance before Felix snatches all your sparkle. He’s already planning a commemorative mural, probably with heroic lighting."

"I am!" Felix admitted cheerfully, producing a small charcoal from his pocket.

"Wait your turn, art goblin," Jared grinned. "Let the suave brothers go first."

"I was suave first," Marcus offered serenely, twirling the mint sprig with one hand.

"You were born holding a leaf, that doesn’t count," Jared shot back.

"I’d like to go last," Callum said quietly. "So I can sketch all of you properly."

As they bickered, Evelisse just laughed.

It felt... light. Easy. The tension had melted into joy.

But her eyes drifted—not to her brothers, not even to Snugglewuff, who had somehow stolen a biscuit from a noble’s tray.

She looked toward the edge of the ballroom.

Where her father now stood.

Watching.

He hadn’t moved, not once during the dance.

But now, his feet stirred.

Slow. Deliberate.

King Aldric of Florabelle made his way toward Duke Altair, who stood with his arms loosely folded behind him, eyes watching the King approach.

The music softened into a gentle background hum.

The court held its breath.

Even the most distracted guests turned.

Queen Seraphina, from her seat, clasped her hands tightly in her lap.

Aldric stopped just before his old friend.

Evelisse’s heart tightened.

’Please let this work... please let this be real,’ she thought, clutching her little hands.

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