The late afternoon sun filtered through the trees in Garth Greenhand’s gardens, casting dappled light across the stone pathway. Florys walked leisurely, her skirts swishing behind her as she approached the quiet garden where her father’s guards were stationed. She caught sight of one—a tall, broad-shouldered man with striking brown eyes and the his personal coat of arms on his chestplate. She knew his name: Ser Edric Florent, his surname named after his father Florian. Edric was an up-and-coming soldier in her father’s service. He was as quick with a sword as she was with her wit.

Florys smiled softly, her lips curling with the same mischievous glint that had earned her the title of “The Fox” among the noble houses of the Reach. She casually closed the distance, her steps light and purposeful.

“Ser Edric,” she called, her voice warm and inviting. “What brings you out here, all alone? Is this how you spend your guard shifts?.”