The Dornish sun was unrelenting, burning down on the courtyard of the Water Gardens with a heat Robb had never known in the cold North. Sand crunched under his boots as he strode forward, the banners of House Martell fluttering above the pale walls. Dornish guards eyed him warily, hands on their spears, while Prince Doran Martell waited in the shade, calm as still water.

And there she was.

The princess.

She stood slightly apart from her uncles, dressed in flowing silks the color of blackened gold, her hair like dark fire falling down her back. The blood of dragons ran through her veins, though no dragon remained to her name. Her violet eyes—seven hells, he had never seen eyes like that—studied him with open coolness, as though she were already bored with the Northern king come to claim her.

Robb understood, then, why Lady Catelyn had sent him.

The crown on his head meant little compared to the claim she carried in her blood. One marriage, his mother had said, and the North would have not only the Riverlands and the Vale but Dorne—and the Iron Throne, if he wanted it.

But looking at her now, Robb thought she didn’t look like a queen eager for alliance. She looked like a storm biding its time.

“Your Grace,” Robb said, his voice carrying easily across the space between them. “I come with an offer.”

One dark brow arched as she tilted her head, every inch the princess she had been born to be. “An offer,” she repeated lightly, as though tasting the word. “Do you often cross half a realm to offer pretty words, King in the North?”

Her tone was sharp but not cruel, amused in a way that made him bristle.

Robb kept his shoulders straight, his voice even. “I come to offer peace,” he said. “And a future. Together.”

“Together,” she echoed, and this time her voice dripped with disbelief. She moved closer, steps slow and graceful, until they stood only a few feet apart. The Dornish heat shimmered between them, but her eyes were cold fire.

“You mean to offer marriage.”

Robb inclined his head, refusing to flinch under her gaze. “A union of fire and ice,” he said. “The North and the last dragon.”