The rain had not ceased since they left Griffin’s Roost. Storm’s End loomed ahead, a fortress of stone and defiance, its banners now black and red Arianne rode at the head of their party, her face unreadable, but Elia felt the weight of her cousin’s thoughts.

Aegon. The name itself felt like a ghost. A baby boy thought dead, now a man claiming a throne. Could it truly be their kin, the son of the aunt she never knew?

She pulled her black filly closer to Ser Joss and Garibald, her fingers itching to grip a lance, though this was not a place for tilts. Wind whipped through her braid as she turned to her cousin.

"If he has my aunt’s blood, I want to see it in his face," she said, voice carrying over the storm.

The gates groaned open. The truth awaited as a knight greeted them leading them into the castle.