The sun hung low over the horizon as the final tilt ended, Ser Bonifer Hasty’s lance striking true against his last opponent. The crowd roared, a wave of admiration sweeping through the stands, but none felt it more keenly than Rhaella. Seated in the royal box, she clasped her hands tightly in her lap, her cheeks flushed with quiet excitement. He was not like the other knights—those of noble birth who carried their arrogance like armor. Bonifer’s grace and humility had captivated her.

The herald’s voice boomed, announcing the victor. Rhaella’s breath hitched as Ser Bonifer dismounted and approached the royal dais, his gaze fixed upward. His steps were steady, purposeful, as he carried a golden wreath, their delicate petals trembling in the breeze as he went to crown his Queen of Love and Beauty. He stopped infront of her seat. She held her breath waiting for him to speak.