The hall was quiet save for the crackle of the hearth. Jeyne Westerling sat on the edge of a cushioned chair, her hands trembling as she held a goblet of watered wine. The dim firelight caught the dark hollows beneath her eyes, a stark contrast to the vibrant woman she had once been. Opposite her stood her loyal household guard, his brow furrowed in concern.

"I feel like a ghost in my own life," Jeyne murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. She looked down at the wine, as though it might hold the answers she sought. "Do you know what it’s like to live surrounded by power and still be powerless? To lose everything, your husband, and be left with only your grief? To be forced to marry a monster?"