FIRE IN OUR EYES ✧ AEMOND TARGARYEN

✧ CHAPTER ONE ✧

1.

Haera is intimately acquainted with the smell of blood. It clings to her like a second skin, a constant companion from the moment she draws her first breath. She is born covered in it, slick and warm against her newborn flesh. And if the whispers of war on every passing person's tongue are true, she will never smell anything else for the rest of her life.

But Haera doesn't mind. Blood's been her constant companion, from the scraped knees of a curious child to the scarlet flow marking her tenth and one year, the passage into womanhood. It's stained her fingers during long nights of pushing needle through cloth, and now, as she stitches Ser Dougas Stally's arm, her hands are steadier than ever.

Ser Stally's face contorts, eyes screwed shut, a constellation of lines across his brow as he wrestles with the pain despite the milk of the poppy's sweet offering. Haera works quickly, and efficiently, her fingers deft and sure as she pulls the suture through his skin, the thread as familiar as an old friend.

"The boar, miss!" Ser Stally grunts through clenched teeth, his breath hot against her cheek. "Twice my size, fatter than any king, angrier than Maegor in his day!"

Haera doesn't correct him, doesn't tell him that boars don't venture this far North on Massey's Hook, not at Stonedance. They stay in the Kingswood, far from the sea's briny kiss. Unless Ser Stally's been in the Kingswood himself, defying Lord Massey's orders to remain on the Hook, to steer clear of the war raging beyond their borders. His Lordship's latest hunting party had stopped at the very edge of the Kingswood.

No war. No boars. Just the sea's salty breath and the relative safety of their little corner of the world. But Haera knows better than to voice such thoughts aloud. Men like Ser Stally need their tales of bravery and conquest, even if they're more fiction than fact. So she nods, making the appropriate noises of amazement as she ties off the final stitch.

"You must have been very brave, Ser," she dotes, her voice dripping with honey. It's a well-practiced act, one she's perfected over the years. Stroke their egos, make them feel important, and they'll be putty in her hands.

From over the knight's shoulder, Haera's companion, a slight girl of six-and-ten named Neryne, makes a face as she cleans up Haera's mess. She's new to the healing arts, sent by the septas to shadow Haera and learn her craft, a filly still unsteady on her legs. With maesters growing ever rarer at Stonedance, the holy sisters have taken to conscripting village maids to serve in their stead as herbalists and menders of flesh, a stopgap measure that leaves much to be desired.

"Fool doesn't know boar from bull," Neryne mutters sourly under her breath, her words a whisper that carries no further than her own ears. Haera hears, and delivers a swift kick to the girl's ankle beneath the table, a sharp reminder to mind her tongue. Neryne swallows a yelp of pain, but holds her peace, knowing better than to provoke her mentor's ire.

The knight either doesn't hear the girl's remark or doesn't care to retort, his attention fixated on the woman tending to his wounds. He looks up at Haera from his seat on the infirmary cot, his eyes shadowed by a veil of disappointment. "I was meant to join the company marching to Rook's Rest," he says, his voice a dejected sigh. "Lord Massey only ended up sending half the battalion, leaving me behind like so much chaff."

"Perhaps the gods spared you from that fight," Haera replies, her fingers deft as she wraps a length of gauze around his forearm, the fabric stark white against his sun-bronzed skin. The knight's face darkens, a storm cloud blotting out the sun.

"I don't need their pity," he snaps, his pride wounded deeper than his flesh, the words bitter on his tongue.

"And yet," Haera says, pulling the bandage taut with a sharp tug, tighter than might be strictly necessary, "they've shown it to you." She wipes her hands on a rag, the fabric coming back stained red, like a painter's canvas. "I wouldn't worry. This storm of war has just blown in, I'm certain there'll be other battles you can brave."