🌺The solar was too warm.🌺

It always was, no matter the season. The hearthfire danced lazily against the stone walls, casting long, soft shadows. Queen Alicent now invited only select company—those she trusted, or those too valuable to discard.

Corvina Tyrell was neither. Not yet.

She sat near the edge of the room, her red ribbon catching the candlelight as it wove through a braid draped over one shoulder. Her gown was Tyrell gold, but she wore a shawl the color of crushed pomegranate, as if daring someone to call her ostentatious. She sipped her wine—slowly—and fed morsels of fig to the large gray cat curled in her lap.

“You’re not supposed to bring animals into the queen’s solar,” came a voice from behind.

Corvina’s eyes shifted toward him before returning to her feline. She tore another piece of fig and offered it to the cat, who blinked once, then accepted.

“He is a bit elderly,” she said, voice honeyed and smooth. The cat—Stewie—turned his head as if insulted, casting a withering look toward the speaker.

Corvina followed his gaze. Stewie yawned.

“Lord Larys,” she said. “Or should I say Lord Confidant? I hear you’re the queen’s left ear, though you hardly seem deaf in the right.”

He chuckled—not loudly, but with genuine amusement. “You wound me, Lady Corvina. I was told you were sharp. I hadn’t expected surgical precision.”

“And I was told you liked puzzles,” she replied, tilting her head. “Do you collect them, or just break them down?”

“I prefer the kind that take time to solve,” he said. “Quiet ones. Elusive. The sort who keep cats named Stewie.”

She let out a surprised laugh—soft, like a bell muffled in velvet.

“You’ve been asking about me.”

“I ask about everyone,” he said easily. “But few answer quite so thoroughly with silence.”

A pause. Longer this time.

Then, with a quirk of her lips: “Most men would try to charm me. Tell me I’m beautiful or clever. Hope I’d mistake flattery for interest.”

“And have I not?” Larys mused.

“No,” she said, voice lower now. “You’ve offered something rarer. A quiet suggestion that you’re already interested—and I don’t yet know why.”

He stepped closer, slow and measured. His gaze dropped briefly to the red ribbon in her hair.

“I like red,” he said. “It’s the color of risk. Of boldness beneath soft things.”

“Of blood beneath lace,” she murmured.

They were nearly eye to eye now. Stewie flicked his tail as if displeased with the proximity.

“I do wonder, Lord Larys,” she continued softly. “Are you here to court me—or simply to watch me?”

“Can’t I do both?” he asked.

She smiled. Slow. Wicked. Curious.

“You can try.”