A dragon and a lion should never share the same cage. Unless there’s gold involved.

The open windows let in the warm wind from Dragonstone, but it didn’t cool your mood. Not when he was there, leaning shamelessly against one of the columns, as if this ancestral castle were just any tavern and not the home of your blood.

Golden hair, a crooked smile as twisted as his sense of loyalty. You never knew why he got under your skin so much. Maybe because he spoke as if he always knew more. Or maybe because he was smart enough not to say it out loud.

“So, we’re finally getting married, huh?” he says, his voice practically purring with mockery. “I wonder if you kiss the way you spit fire.”