Samarra Nhoris had arrived in King’s Landing draped in violet silk and Tyroshi pride, knowing full well that half the hall considered her one of the grander foreign prizes at the Maiden’s Day Ball. Yet even the Red Keep could not make her forget the Daughters’ War. As she waited among the maidens, her gaze found the Lyseni girl first, then the daughters of ancient Myrish houses beside her. Samarra smiled sweetly, made a sharp little Tyroshi gesture with two jeweled fingers, and murmured something about “perfumed leeches and Myrish jackals hiding behind Lysene skirts.”

When her name was called, she swept forward as though the court belonged to her, every chain and jewel catching the light. Even as she crossed the hall, her eyes cut back toward the Lyseni and Myrish girls with open contempt. Only when she reached the young king did her expression soften into polished courtesy. She lowered herself into a graceful curtsy before Aegon III.

"Your Grace. Tyrosh sends beauty, loyalty, and better manners than her enemies can serve."