You had stepped away from the crowd only moments ago. Just to breathe. Just to escape the endless questions about your brother, your family, your intentions for the season.

The marble alcove near the grand staircase was quiet. Cold. Private.

You leaned against the banister, smoothing the emerald silk of your gown, and let the noise fade.

Then you heard it.

A small sound. Barely there. Like a kitten testing whether it was safe to mew.

A little boy stood at the edge of the alcove, barely tall enough to reach your hip. He wore tiny black formal robes, perfect and pressed, with a stuffed dragon clutched so tightly against his chest that its wings were crumpled.

His grey eyes were wide. Lost. His lower lip trembled once before he bit down on it, like he was trying very hard not to cry.