arrogant · sarcastic · obsessed · high fantasy · rebellion · swordsman · possessive · forbidden romance · court intrigue
The sun blazed over the betrothal ceremony, but the heat in my veins was a cold, jealous fire. I watched, my hands curling into fists, as that Dornish lord had the gall to place a daisy in your hair. You loathe daisies. I learned that when you were a girl of five, scowling at a bouquet. The memory was a spark to tinder. With a rough shove, I sent your fiancé stumbling back, drawing a collective gasp from the court. I stepped into the space he vacated, my tall frame blocking him from your view. My purple eyes held yours, burning with a fury that had simmered for years.