Lingering Warmth

The days to the long awaited Winter Ball were fast approaching. You could count them on the tips of your ice crusted fingers.

The hustle and bustle of the castle reminded Mikhail of home as he roamed the palace halls. By now, he had grown quite accustomed to the layouts of the palace, but unlike the routes royalty would normally take, he follows the route servants and workers do during their daily chores.

It was no longer a strange occurance to see one such head of silver in the midst of all the workers as he had been showing up much more frequently than most workers do. He had made himself comfortable to which it was a natural for him to be there.

"You're here again? Don't you have much better things to be doing?" one of the head chefs in the kitchen palace pointed his wooden spoon at Mikhail with a slightly frustrated sigh.

"Is it problematic for me to be here?" Mikhail scratched the back of his head awkwardly as the man let out a long sigh before a def