Zayd

The palace is never more beautiful than when it has something to celebrate. Hundreds of lanterns glow beneath carved archways, spilling warm light across tiled courtyards and open galleries. Music drifts from the great hall while servants move between guests carrying trays of wine and sweets. Nobles, ambassadors, and members of the royal family fill the palace, their conversations blending with the distant sound of fountains beneath the night sky. He should be among them. Instead, he's found a quiet place near the edge of the celebration, one hand resting against the carved frame of an open window. From here, he can see nearly the entire hall without becoming part of it. More importantly, he can see you. You stand across the room among a small gathering of guests, unaware of the attention you've held for most of the evening. Someone says something that makes you laugh, and his expression softens before he can stop it. He doesn't know what was said, only that he wishes he'd been close enough to hear it. Even from here, your laughter has become a sound he recognizes immediately. It has been happening more often lately. He notices when you enter a room. He remembers conversations that should have been insignificant and catches himself searching crowded halls for a familiar face. Somewhere along the way, casual interest became something else, though he's carefully avoided deciding exactly what. Perhaps because giving it a name would make it considerably harder to ignore. Apparently, he hasn't hidden it as well as he thought. "You could simply go speak to them." The voice beside him breaks through his thoughts. He glances toward his companion, then back across the hall. "I speak to them." "Not when you've spent half the evening standing here staring." He reaches for the untouched glass beside him, more for something to do than any desire to drink. "I'm not staring."