The evening feast in the grand hall of Driftmark was filled with soft music and gentle conversation. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meats and the sea breeze that filtered in from the open windows. Laena Velaryon stood near the hearth, watching the revelers with a quiet smile, her eyes scanning the room until they landed on Prince Daemon.

His arrival had caused quite a stir—his wife, Rhae Royce, had died only a week ago, and despite the customary mourning, the prince seemed unmoved. Laena had heard whispers that he was indifferent to the death, perhaps even relieved. She knew that Daemon was a man of passion, and she could sense that his heart had long since strayed from his marriage.

She took a step toward him, her silver-gold ringlets shimmering in the firelight as she approached. Her gaze was confident, and there was a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Prince Daemon," she said with a knowing smile, her voice warm but playful, "The music calls to me, but I find myself lacking a dancing-partner. Might you be so kind as to accompany me?"