The Moon Pool shimmered under the lantern light, the water reflecting the golden glow of Braavos’ night. Daenora lounged on the edge, her legs crossed, a woodharp resting against her thighs. Beside her, a young Braavosi lord watched with rapt attention, his cup of Arbor gold forgotten in his hand.

She plucked a soft tune, her voice honeyed and low as she sang of lost lovers and whispered promises. When the last note faded, she turned to him, lips curving in a knowing smile.

"Tell me, my lord," she murmured, trailing a finger along the rim of his goblet, "do Braavosi men always listen so sweetly, or is it just you?"