Dance of The Dragonwolf

Red Vipers, White Lies

Hello, Drinor here. I'm happy to publish a new Chapter of Dance of The Dragonwolf.

If you want to Read 18 More Chapters Right Now. Click the Link in my Profile Bio

Chapter 56, Chapter 57, Chapter 58, Chapter 59, Chapter 60, Chapter 61, Chapter 62, Chapter 63, Chapter 64, Chapter 65, Chapter 66, Chapter 67, Chapter 68, Chapter 69, Chapter 70, Chapter 71, Chapter 72, and Chapter 73 are already available for Patrons.

The scorching Dornish sun beat down as Sunspear's distinctive silhouette emerged on the horizon. The three Winding Walls that protected the ancient seat of House Martell rose like giant serpents from the sands, their golden sandstone gleaming in the harsh daylight. The Spear Tower and the Tower of the Sun pierced the cloudless blue sky, their shadows stretching across the desert landscape.

Princess Aliandra Martell sat astride her sand steed, her lightweight silk dress in orange and red rippling in the hot breeze. Her dark hair was bound in a practical braid, adorned with golden threads that caught the sunlight. Despite the heat, she wore the traditional Dornish riding clothes: flowing pants beneath her dress, designed for both modesty and comfort in the saddle. Gold bangles clinked at her wrists, and a delicate coronet of copper suns rested on her brow.

Beside her, her younger brother Qyle shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. At fifteen, he was already showing signs of the Martell beauty, with his olive skin and dark, questioning eyes. He wore a sleeveless yellow silk tunic embroidered with copper suns, and loose-fitting breeches of the lightest linen. A copper arm ring in the shape of a snake wrapped around his upper arm, marking him as a prince of Dorne.

"Do you think he's already here?" Qyle asked, his voice carrying a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

Aliandra's jaw tightened. The memory of her father's reaction to her question about Lykard's exile flashed through her mind. She had been younger then, barely four-and-ten, when she'd gathered the courage to ask. Prince Qoren's face had transformed from its usual warmth to something she'd never seen before – a mask of barely contained fury and... was it fear? "Never ask me that question again, Aliandra. Never."

"We'll find out soon enough," she replied to Qyle, spurring her horse forward.

Their guards, dressed in the lightweight armor of Dorne – scaled copper breastplates over silk shirts, loose pants tucked into boots, and flowing cloaks of orange silk – followed close behind. Their spears caught the sunlight as they rode through the Shadow City, the maze-like settlement that surrounded Sunspear.

The streets were alive with activity despite the afternoon heat. Merchants in rainbow-colored robes called out their wares from beneath striped awnings. Children with skin darkened by the sun darted between market stalls, their laughter echoing off the sandstone walls. Women carried clay pots balanced on their heads, their faces protected from the sun by delicate veils of flowing silk in every shade imaginable.

"Princess Aliandra!" voices called out as she passed. "The Sun of Dorne!"

The common folk's greetings warmed her heart, but today they couldn't dispel the unease that had settled in her stomach. Nine years. Nine years since Lykard had been sent away, and now he was returning. What had changed? Why now?

The first of the Winding Walls loomed before them. They passed through the gate in the first wall, then the second, and finally approached the third and highest wall that protected Sunspear proper.

At the top of the gates, guards in polished copper armor stood at attention. Their spears were topped with the sun-and-spear of House Martell, the banners above them snapping in the hot wind that blew in from the Sea of Dorne.