Naomi smiled softly as she curtsied, completing the final step of the dance with Zylan. The delicate fabric of her gown swished lightly against the polished floor, and the fading music left a lingering echo in the air. "It was truly a pleasure dancing with you, my dear husband," she said, her voice warm yet formal, as though she spoke from a practiced script.
Zylan's lips twitched ever so slightly, almost forming a smile—a rare gesture that sent a flutter through Naomi's chest. "The pleasure is mine, my dear wife. Or should I say… my little Eaglet."
