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chapter twenty three. stolen glances
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𝕯RESSED in flowing white, the Princess of Storm's End stood tall in the stone courtyard, the morning sun casting a soft glow across the fabric of her gown.
Her dark hair, freshly braided, shimmered against the pale silk, and despite the chill in the air, Taliana held herself like warmth lived in her spine.
Today, she would meet the first of the men—and women—who had sworn their blades to her cause.
They waited in a line before her, silent and alert. A small company, yet handpicked by Lord Edwin himself. As Taliana approached, her eyes scanned each face—measuring, reading.
One in particular caught her attention. A woman. Blond hair tied back, sharp blue eyes that revealed little but saw everything.
Taliana moved toward her.
The woman bowed quickly, fist to chest, "Princess." Her voice was low, respectful.
Taliana offered a curious smile, "What is your name?"
"Althea," the woman replied.
Taliana's smile grew, something sparking in her eyes. "A rare thing, to see a woman among the swords. I'm glad to have you."
Althea nodded once, but her faint smile gave her pride away.
Beside her stood three men, each standing at attention. Taliana turned to them gracefully, meeting each of their gazes in turn.
The first, broad-shouldered with chestnut brown hair and a solemn face, stepped forward.
"Ser Eris," he said. His voice was as steady as a stone wall.
Next to him, a younger man with raven-black hair and a cocky grin bowed slightly.
"Ser Farrell, Princess," he said, a glint of mischief in his tone.
Taliana gave a soft hum of amusement but said nothing—her gaze already drifting to the last man.
He was tall, lean, and handsome in a quiet way. His armor was polished but worn, and his eyes—gray-green, gentle—met hers only briefly before he bowed deeply.
