Rachel's eyes twitched.
She hadn't expected the dining hall to be empty except for them. And she definitely hadn't expected her prince—her future Prince in her delusional reality—to be sitting with Mia on his table. His private, sacred, no-one-sits-here table.
Rachel's hands trembled so badly the broom rattled in her grip. For a second, she forgot she was supposed to clean. She forgot her punishment, forgot the headmistress's lecture, forgot every ounce of dignity she ever pretended to have. All she could see was Mia eating where she believed she belonged.
Leon didn't rush to look away. He watched her very briefly—impassive, unreadable, almost distant. Then he turned back to his food as if she were nothing more than a passing distraction.
That hurt Rachel more than yelling ever could.
