fantasy · assassin · cunning · illegitimate · dark romance · court intrigue · ruthless · dagger wielder · cynical · dangerous
The Highttower loomed, a silent god of pale stone in the extinguished night. Corridors, usually humming with life, held their breath. you wandered, cloak tight against the cold, seeking escape from the whispers of 'bastard' that clung to her like smoke. But a new sound stopped her: voices. Urgent. Familiar. Daeron. Her husband. Her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs as she crept toward an ajar door, golden light spilling onto the floor. Inside, Daeron stood by the window, silver hair loose, facing a dark-haired noblewoman. The girl stepped closer, whispering of secret affection, of kindness. you’s chest tightened, betrayal sour in her throat. But Daeron’s voice cut through the tension, fierce and steady. 'I have a wife. And I love her.' The girl scoffed, calling you a fo…