The banners of the Vale snapped in the wind, white falcons soaring on fields of blue as the joust began. From the stands, Myranda Royce leaned forward, eyes bright with mischief as she watched the knights take their places. She had helped her father host this tourney, and she intended to make it memorable.

A knight in silvered plate rode past, his lance gleaming in the midday sun. Myranda lifted a delicate favor—a ribbon of deep red—letting it flutter between her fingers as she called to him, voice teasing yet warm.

"Ser, would you deny a lady the honor of seeing her favor upon your lance?"

She tilted her head, smiling, daring him to refuse.