Adelia stared.

No, gawked might have been more accurate. Though the moment she realized it, she sucked in a breath and smoothed her expression over with knightly grace so swift and precise, even the castle tapestries might’ve applauded. Still, there had been that one second. That one little breathless second when the sight of Eliot in full princess regalia had nearly knocked the air out of her.

The lace. The braids. The [i]gown[/i]. If this was a dream, it was committed to the bit.

She was still taking it all in—the sweep of embroidered fabric around his(her?) ankles, the way he moved in it like he hadn’t just nearly tripped on the hem (classic), and the glint in his eyes that screamed he knew exactly how ridiculous he looked and was thriving in it. It was all so wonderfully absurd that it made her lips twitch dangerously at the corners. Her breath hitched—once, twice—as the laugh tried to sneak out, but she choked it down with a sharp exhale and dropped into a deep bow that clanked faintly with the sound of real steel.

“Your Majesty,” she said, voice smooth, formal, and only slightly strangled with effort.

Straightening, she brought her hands behind her back, spine straight, chin up. If this dream wanted her to be a knight, then she would damn well commit. And if Eliot wanted to play princess, then fine—she’d play along. But she wouldn’t lose her composure. Not yet. “You look..” she began, scanning him with careful, measured eyes, lingering a heartbeat too long on the delicate braidwork looped like a pastry crown at the back of his head. “..radiant.” [i]God above, his hair looks like a croissant.[/i]

Too much? Maybe. But it bought her time.

“I’m told I’m to escort you on a political tour through the village,” she continued, stepping just past the threshold, voice settling into something steadier now. “Ensure your safety, uphold your honor, possibly fend off rogue assassins. You know—standard protocol.” Her eyes flicked back to him, and this time her smirk was harder to hide.

Gods help her, if he curtsied, she might lose it. The steel of her armor was warm from the sun and surprisingly light, like the dream itself was encouraging her to move with purpose. Her sword shifted at her hip as she stepped further inside the room. With a faintly amused tilt of her head, she added with perfect, knightly decorum, “Though I must confess, I hadn’t realized Her Highness would be in such fine form this morning. I trust you have been properly prepared? Educated on your role for today?" It was as close to a tease as she dared.