"Princess!"
The voice cracked through the hallway like a whip, sharp and unmistakably done with her. Ilaria froze mid-tiptoe, one foot still lifted like she'd been caught trying to sneak off a battlefield. She turned her head slowly to find Melyn standing with arms crossed, lantern raised, eyes blazing beneath it.
"…Melyn!" Ilaria squeaked, her shock far too dramatic to be believable. "Wh–what a surprise! Fancy seeing you here!"
Melyn blinked. They were in the royal family's private corridor. At nearly three in the morning. And here she was, in her nightgown, barefoot, slipping past the pillars and walls like a pretty little thief.
"Oh yes," Ilaria continued, nodding with an enthusiasm that would have embarrassed a squirrel. "Gorgeous night for… walking and admiring the ceilings. Don't you love how, um, ceiling-shaped they are?"
To prove her point, she looked up, only to instantly regretted it because the corridor ceiling was utterly plain.
