Tanda Sunglass, devoted to the Faith, is chosen by Queen Alicent to marry her drunken son, Aegon II Targaryen-binding her fate to a dangerous legacy.
Will her soul stay true to the Seven or will it darken with war?
I stumbled into my chamber, breathless and shaken. The image of Prince Aegon's drunken leer, his hands groping me without a second thought, still lingered in my mind. He didn't even realize I was his betrothed-his betrothed-for the Seven's sake!
"Asshole!" I screamed, grabbing the nearest book and hurling it across the room. My voice cracked with a rage I didn't know I had, the sound echoing off the cold, stony walls. It felt strange to unleash so much anger, especially here, where everything felt foreign and suffocating.
I closed my eyes and whispered a prayer, trying to regain my composure, but the anger only dimmed slightly, making way for a tidal wave of sadness. My knees buckled, and I slumped down on the edge of the bed, feeling the weight of it all pressing down on me. Back home, I could always sit by the large window, look out at the sun-drenched fields, and feel the world lift me up. But here? Here I was trapped, not just by these walls but by the knowledge that I was betrothed to a drunken pervert.
"I'm betrothed to a creep... to a drunken pervert," I mumbled, the words slipping out as my sobs wracked my body. I cried for what felt like an eternity, the world outside darkening as the last traces of daylight slipped away.
Through blurry eyes, I glanced toward the tiny, dusty window tucked in the corner of the room. It was growing darker, and the welcome feast was approaching fast. The thought of seeing Aegon again-knowing what had happened earlier-made my stomach twist, but I had no choice. Duty called.
I wiped my tears and rang for one of the handmaids. They had introduced themselves when we arrived, but I'd already forgotten most of their names in my daze. I thought one of them might be Cecilia. Yes, Cecilia. She entered quickly, along with another girl, both of them moving with quiet efficiency as they began undoing the mess that had become of my hair.
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I sat in silence as they worked, my mind wandering elsewhere, until Cecilia's soft voice pulled me from my thoughts.
"Lady Tanda?" she asked hesitantly.
"Oh, yes, sorry, Cecilia. I was... zoning out," I said, trying to offer her a small, apologetic smile. I didn't want them to worry.
She returned the smile and held up two dresses. One was a soft, pale yellow off-the-shoulder gown-simple yet elegant. The other was ivory white, lacy and flowing with a floral design that made it look almost bridal.
"Would you prefer the yellow or the white one?"
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I stared at the two options, my heart sinking a little at the sight of the white one. It was beautiful but too reminiscent of something I wasn't quite ready for yet.
"I'll wear the yellow," I said, nodding. "I'm worried I'll spill something on the white."
That wasn't the real reason, though. I wanted to wear the yellow to match my family-to stand with them. I wasn't a Targaryen yet, and I wasn't ready to present myself as anything other than what I was: Tanda of House Sunglass, still tied to my family, still bearing our colors.
