Whitewalls glittered with music, banners, and more noble guests than Sharra had expected for a mere wedding tourney. As she moved through the feast beside her parents, she quietly studied the gathered houses: Costayne, Peake, Butterwell, Frey, and even Sunderland from the distant Three Sisters. The selection felt strangely deliberate, almost as though someone had chosen every guest for a reason beyond celebration. Sharra lingered on that thought for only a moment before a handsome young knight offered her his hand for the next dance. She smiled and placed her fingers in his.