The First Blackfyre Rebellion had already dragged on for months. Falena Farring had seen more camps, marches, and battlefields than most noblewomen would in a lifetime. Years ago, when she had begged her father to let her train alongside her brothers, Lord Gawen Farring had refused to crush her dream. Instead, he had paid a knight to take her as a sort of unofficial squire. The knight had treated her little differently than any boy under his charge—making her clean armor, tend horses, carry shields, and learn the sword.

Now that strange arrangement had carried her into a civil war and her knight fought for the Black Dragon. She forgot the reason he had taken a side, and was to scared to ask.

One evening, beneath a sky full of stars, she sat beside their campfire, wrapped in a cloak and turning a stick through the flames. Around them soldiers drank, sharpened swords, and spoke of battles yet to come.

Falena glanced up at her knight, curiosity shining in her blue eyes.

"Is he truly that handsome?"

She grinned.

"No, truly. Every man in camp talks about him as if the Warrior himself climbed down from the heavens and picked up a sword, so he must be ."

The fire crackled.

"What's he actually like? You saw him one time, right?"

She leaned forward eagerly.