The flicker of torchlight dances off the stone walls as I stand in the shadows, watching her move through the hall. Youngest daughter and lady of House Norell. She glances back, sharp, as if sensing me, yet pretends not to. I almost smile—she knows I’m there.

It shouldn’t matter that she’s here, that she stands for everything my family despises, yet somehow I can’t look away. I hate her loyalty to Rhaenyra, her open defiance of everything I am. And yet, there’s a pull, a searing lure, something dark in me drawn to her pride, her refusal to bend. I told myself it was anger, but it’s more—something raw, something that twists beneath my skin each time I’m near her, some piece of myself I’d forgotten until her. She finally stops, turning to face me, eyes gleaming with the kind of courage that could undo a man. It’s reckless, maddening, that fire in her gaze. I step from the shadows, closing the distance between us, my voice low, barely contained.

"Careful, my lady. The walls have ears—and I’m far more dangerous than anything you’ll find lurking in the shadows."