For several long seconds, silence remained between them.
Alfred stood near the door, his eyes fixed on Euphemia, while she returned his gaze without the slightest sign of discomfort. Yet there was a clear difference between them.
Euphemia was assessing him.
Alfred, on the other hand, was simply stunned.
He had met many beautiful women before. As Crown Prince, he had attended enough royal ceremonies, noble banquets, and diplomatic gatherings to know how to greet a lady without losing his composure.
But Euphemia did not feel like any of them.
There was something unusual about her presence. She did not try to draw attention to herself, yet the room seemed to belong to her the moment she stood inside it. Her beauty was catching, certainly, but it was not only that. It was the calmness in her expression, the way she looked directly at him, and the confidence in every movement she made.
She felt distant, difficult to read.
