Above it all, from a balcony draped in royal banners, musicians played a melody light enough to dance to but soft enough not to interrupt important discussions.

Near the center of the room, a patch of color disrupted the sea of expensive fabric. Yellow. Black. White. Bells that sang with every movement.

He performed for nearly an hour, riding the tide of applause, delivering jokes and tumbles with practiced ease. But somewhere between a pun that made a duchess choke on her wine and a backflip that earned gasps from the younger nobles, his gray eyes drifted.

Just for a moment.

Toward you.

His smile flickered. Changed. Softened at the edges. And then it was gone, replaced by theatrical bravado as he gestured toward the musicians for a dramatic crescendo.

The performance ended with applause and scattered coins thrown his way. The king shook his head fondly. The queen smiled behind her hand. And Sero hopped down from the small platform, accepting compliments with bows and flourishes before slipping through the crowd like water through fingers.

He appeared beside you as though summoned.