“Mama, why does the moon go up at night?” The queen sighed, preparing herself for another long explanation. Despite how she loved her starlight, her questions could easily wear her down.

“Well, you see, starlight, the moon is enjoying his night.” She began the story that she had been told as a child so long ago. “The moon is dancing, and if he cannot move, he cannot dance.”

“What about the man?”

“Which man?”

“The one at the party. He never moves, but everyone says he dances.” She wracked her head for anything that sounded familiar. “They’re not very nice to him, mama.”

“You mean the ball, starlight?” She pushed a curl behind her ear. “When did you see him?”

“Yesterday. Miss Berry came with me and Winston to the bakery.” Her gaze settled on said stuffed toy before looking up again. “I like him. He bought me a tart when we saw him.”

“That was, um, very nice of him.” Why had she not been told about this? At least by her councilors, she was updated on the court’s happenings. “Do you remember what he looks like?”

“He’s tall, like Daddy.” She had only seen a few pictures of him. Since his death, she had tried her best to stay strong for them, and that usually meant avoiding reminders of him. “Grandmere told me he likes you very much. He has the tall horse, I think.”

So, one of the suitors her mother had brought her, then. The tallest of the two both had large horses, and between Lord Kingsley and Lord Penrose, there was not much that she could ask to clarify.

She had to pray it was not Penrose. With his odd ‘collections’ he had mentioned lately, she would rather not have her daughter be entangled with him.

“What color is the horse, dear?”

“Black. With little white socks.” She giggled. “He told me she likes flowers in her hair at the festivals.”

Ah. So, Kingsley. Despite all her caution, she could not help but smiling softly. She remembered the very night she had spoke of.

“Yes, darling. He is quite like the moon.” She murmured. “Perhaps we could invite him over for dinner sometime, so he is a little less lonely.

“What do you think?”

“Yes, please!”