Chapter 57

I stood at the end of the table, rubbing my forehead where a headache was starting to form.

I'd just spent the last ten minutes explaining the entire mess. Visiting the White Sword Tower in the early morning, the misunderstanding about my sword, the brutal fist fight with Ser Gerold Hightower and his interrogation about my "intentions" toward his grand-niece. And, of course, the wedding planning that I'd had no part in initiating.

"So no," I said, letting my hand drop. "I am not in any way betrothed. It's truly just a big misunderstanding."

Silence hung in the room for a moment.

Then Oberyn leaned forward in his chair, his dark eyes bright with something like admiration. "You fought the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard?"

I couldn't help a small smirk. "Bare-knuckled."

"Remarkable, my friend,” Oberyn said, laughing. “Truly remarkable.”

Even Father gave me a subtle nod from where he stood beside Mother. Then I caught Mother elbowing him in the side, her expression pointed. "Indeed. It seems he must have forgotten to mention that small detail when he returned from King's Landing."

"Was that why you had a black eye when you arrived?" Alysanne asked, her blue eyes wide. "You said you'd been sparring!"

I nodded. "I wasn't lying. Just... not clarifying who I'd been sparring with."

Arianne was frowning at me, the way she always did when she thought I was hiding something. Which, to be fair, I usually was.

But it was Princess Elia's voice that cut through the room next. "The part I do not understand, Ser Galladon, is why the Lord Commander would even think you had something with this... Lady Malora."

I raised an eyebrow at her tone. There was something sharp beneath the polite words. Something that made the air feel slightly charged.

I tried to keep my composure. "I am not sure I understand that part either, Princess. Apparently, she mentioned me in her letters to him. And he must have misconstrued what that meant."

"Why would she even mention you at all?" Arianne asked, suspicious.

"Yes, Ser Galladon.” Ashara Dayne's violet eyes were practically piercing me from across the table. “Why would she?"

Faced with hard looks on both sides, I did the only thing I could. “What can I say?” My smile was charm incarnate. “I met her only briefly, but it seems I have an effect on maidens."

At that, Oberyn bursts out in laughter. Father joined with a low chuckle, clearly amused despite himself. Even Mother smiled, shaking her head in that fond, exasperated way she had.

My sisters gave me the same look they always did when I joked with them, half annoyed, half amused, entirely unimpressed.

The Dornish ladies, on the other hand, were not so easily charmed.

Elia's dark eyes were shooting daggers at me. If looks could kill, I'd be bleeding out on the floor.

Ashara had her nose in the air, though I could have sworn I spotted some crimson creeping into her cheeks. "You certainly have a high enough opinion of yourself, ser."

"A jest, of course," I said, raising my hands in surrender. Time to backtrack before I dug myself deeper. "I met Lady Malora along with her brother, Ser Baelor, when I stopped at Oldtown after the tourney at Lannisport. I have exchanged letters with Ser Baelor a few times since. But that is all."

The fact that Malora had slipped me a priceless magical artifact in the strangest meeting of my life went unsaid, naturally.

Some things were better left unmentioned.

Ashara sniffed. "As you say."

But she didn't sound convinced. Not even a little.

She gave a certain look to Princess Elia—some kind of feminine communication that happened entirely without words. Whatever message passed between them, Elia rose from her seat.

Ashara joined her, standing with fluid grace.

"Excuse me, my lord, my lady," Elia said, her voice perfectly courteous. "The food was delicious. You have my thanks. But we must prepare ourselves for the day."

Mother was the picture of courtesy in return. "Of course. I will have my maids at the ready should you need anything at all. Do not hesitate to call on them."

Elia and Ashara smiled—polite, distant smiles that didn't quite reach their eyes—and swept out of the room.

The temperature seemed to drop about ten degrees with their departure.

Mother caught my eye, gave me a look that clearly said We will be discussing this later, then took my sisters by the hands. "Come, girls. We must ready ourselves as well."

Alysanne went willingly, already chattering about something. Arianne shot me one more skeptical look before following.

Father lingered just long enough to signal we should speak later, then he too was gone, leaving just Oberyn and me in the small dining room.

The silence stretched for a moment. Then Oberyn stood and came to my side, clapping a hand on my shoulder.

He gestured down the hallway where the ladies had just disappeared. "Don't worry about them. Ashara's just unused to competition."

"There's competition?” I blinked at him. “I'd love to know what the terms of the contest even are."

Oberyn gave me a look. "You expect clear rules from a lady? Oh, my friend. Come, I have much to teach you.”

xxx

Instead of a brothel or some other house of disreput, as I would’ve expected, we headed to the practice yard instead.

The morning sun was climbing higher, warming the courtyard stones. A few guards trained at the far end, but they cleared out quickly when they saw us approaching with practice weapons.

I selected a sword and shield from the rack. The sword was blunted steel, heavier than a real blade to build strength. The shield was good oak, well-maintained. Oberyn took a practice spear, testing its weight with a few experimental spins. He moved with the same grace I’d seen the last time we fought.

"Ready?" he asked, settling into a warrior’s stance.

In truth, I was tired. Two months of near-constant marching, living rough, sleeping on the ground. My muscles ached in ways I'd almost forgotten were possible. But at least we'd gotten a good night's sleep the night before instead of another of Jack's forced marches.

"Ready," I said.

We circled each other slowly. With the men-at-arms gone, the courtyard was quiet except for the distant sound of waves against rocks and the cry of seabirds overhead.

Oberyn moved like his namesake, a viper coiled and ready to strike. His spear held low, point tracking me as I moved. 

Then he darted in.

Fast. So fast the spear was a blur. A lightning thrust aimed at my chest.

I brought my shield up, angling it to deflect rather than absorb. The spear point scraped off the rim with a metallic screech. He pulled back immediately, reset, thrust again. This time at my legs.

I sidestepped, let the point pass harmlessly by, and slapped at the haft with my sword. Wood cracked against wood.

Oberyn danced back out of range, grinning. "Not bad. You've kept your practice."

I only grunted, and we circled again. I kept my shield up, my sword ready.

Another thrust, feint high, real attack low. I caught it on my shield and pushed forward, trying to close the distance. But Oberyn was already gone, dancing back on light feet.

"So," he said conversationally, as if we weren't trying to hit each other. "Don't tell me you think they came all the way here for Tarth's natural beauty?"

I couldn't help but smile. "I much prefer the term handsome. But thank you for noticing."

Oberyn snorted and attacked again.

This time it was a combination. Thrust, withdraw, thrust from a different angle. I batted the first away with my sword, caught the second on my shield, and saw my opening.

I dashed in, trying to hammer him with my shield. Use my weight and strength to overwhelm his speed. But Oberyn stepped back again, using the haft of his spear to check my momentum. The wood caught against my shield edge, redirecting my charge harmlessly to the side.

"She's not the only one with competition, you know," Oberyn said, resetting his stance. "Ashara has plenty of admirers in my brother's court. Her father shall not wait long before he betroths her to one of them."

He continued his assault, controlling the rhythm of the fight with his longer reach. Thrust, withdraw, circle, thrust again. Keeping me at the end of his spear, not letting me get close.

I blocked and dodged, feeling out his patterns. Waiting for an opening.

Then Oberyn got cocky.

He over-extended slightly on a thrust, confident in his speed. And threw out the challenge with that insufferable smirk of his.

"Or perhaps it is that you do not have the stones to court her?"

I blocked two quick spear thrusts with my shield, raising an eyebrow. "Stones, huh? I'll show you some stones."

Oberyn's smirk widened. "Oh, I wouldn't mind that at all."

I could only shake my head at the man. Of course he wouldn’t. He started to harry me again, probing with the spear point. But this time, I stopped holding back.

I was stronger than Oberyn, had always been stronger. But now I was faster too, more experienced. And I’d pushed myself like never before since my stop at Morne. 

Exploding forward, I closed the distance before he could reset, getting inside his spear's reach where the length became a liability. Oberyn's eyes widened slightly. He tried to backpedal to create space like he usually did. I didn't let him.

My sword came in high. He brought the spear haft up to block. I used the moment of contact to slam my shield into the middle of the haft, using my weight and strength to drive it down and to the side.

He tried to disengage, to spin away. But I was already there.

I hooked his ankle with my foot as he moved. Not hard enough to trip him completely, but enough to throw off his balance for a crucial half-second.

My sword came back around. He blocked with the spear again, but he was off-balance, couldn't put his full strength into it. I pushed forward with my shield. Not to hit him, just to occupy his attention, to keep him defensive, while my sword snaked around the spear haft. I caught it, twisted, and yanked.

The spear flew from his hands.

Oberyn stumbled back, reaching for the dagger at his belt, the instinct of a fighter who always has a backup plan.

But then I was already lunging, slapping at his wrist with the flat of my sword and ramming the shield into his gut. The Prince folded around it like a neat, human-like envelope, gasping in pain, and I finished it off by being a good host and kicking him while he was down.

He fell on the ground with a groan, only to find the blunted point of my practice sword pressed against his chest, right over his heart. Oberyn only laid there looking almost shell-shocked for a moment. 

I smiled, pulling the sword away. “See,” I said. “Stones.”

Wincing, he coughed and rubbed his stomach. "Huh," he said, voice a little wheezy. “Didn’t expect that. You've gotten fast."

"I've been practicing," I said. Offering a hand, he took it, and I pulled him up. "A lot has happened since we last sparred."

Too much. Plus the fact I'd grown half a foot since then and picked up almost a stone in weight, most of it muscle. I wasn't the gangly teenager he'd first met in Sunspear. I was bigger, stronger, faster.

I certainly wasn't the same fighter as before.

Oberyn dusted himself off. "Yes, so it has." He moved to retrieve his spear. When he turned to look at me, his eyes had gained a rare, saddened cast."Losing your mother... I am glad your own story turned out for the better. It is not a pain I'd wish on anyone, much less a friend." He met my eyes. "Had I known it was happening, I would have sailed there myself."

I gave him a solemn nod. "Thank you, Oberyn. That means more than you know."

"And your latest adventure too." He leaned on his spear. "Even down in Sunspear we heard what you did with the burning lord. An honorable thing, yes, but dangerous. Have you considered not getting into so much trouble all the time?" His smile was fully back now.

I chuckled. "Aye, I should do that. What happened in the throne room…” I let out a sigh. “It was ill-thought out. Very much so. Even if I cannot say I regret it."

"You shouldn’t. It made for a great story. Ashara spent the entire day raving about it," Oberyn said knowing look. "Calling you all types of fool."

"In her defense, I've been known to act like one."

"Perhaps. But a woman only does that when she cares about someone." Stepping closer, Oberyn laid a hand on my shoulder. "Dornish women are the best in the world, my friend. Trust me, I’ve tried them everywhere, so I'd know. Just think about it, eh?"

I nodded, and we left the courtyard after that, though not without Oberyn extracting a promise that we'd spar again soon. He wanted to even the score.

xxx

Afterwards, I had a hot bath brought up to my rooms. My first proper bath in two months.

The servants filled the wooden tub with steaming water, added herbs that made the whole room smell like lavender and something else I couldn't identify. I dismissed them and sank into the water with a groan of pure relief.

Gods, this was heaven.

I let myself soak, feeling the aches and pains of two months' campaigning slowly ease. The hot water worked magic on sore muscles. I could feel the tension draining out of my shoulders, my back, my legs.

And as I luxuriated in it, I let myself think about things I'd been avoiding.

Ashara.

It had been clear she liked me even after my short stay in Dorne. This wasn't a world where knights and noble maidens exchanged letters if there wasn't some interest between them. But I'd been too preoccupied to truly wrap my head around what it all meant.

Courting. Betrothal. Marriage. That was way harder than rescuing ladies from towers or expanding medieval port towns. At least with those I knew what I was doing.

Father had always told me I was free to marry for love instead of duty, as he had been. It was something he wanted for me and for my sisters, and he made sure we all knew it.

But I wasn't so idealistic as he was. Not anymore.

I had one goal now, one driving purpose: make House Tarth as powerful as it could be. Build something that would last. That would protect my family when the wars came. When the Long Night fell.

I wouldn't want to marry someone I hated, of course. But I had to be strategic about it. Had to think with my head, not my heart.

House Dayne was old and prestigious. One of the most ancient houses in Westeros, with a history stretching back to the Age of Heroes. They'd even married into the Targaryens once, with Dyanna Dayne serving as King Maekar’s wife in a not so distant past. Any family would be honored to join with them.

Still, I couldn't help having doubts.

Wouldn't a marriage in the Stormlands be more beneficial? To secure our standing with our neighbors instead of with a house a thousand miles away, separated by oceans and deserts? Especially now that we had significant holdings in the Rainwood. Those holdings bordered other Stormlander territories. Alliance through marriage could smooth a lot of potential friction there.

Then there was the whole Hightower thing.

Given what I knew of Malora—or rather, what I didn't know—I didn't think the betrothal talk was anything other than crazy miscommunication on Gerold's part. The man had jumped to conclusions based on his grand-niece mentioning me in letters, which I knew were more about the glass candle than any kind of infatuation.

But it got me thinking.

Compared to the Hightowers, House Dayne might as well be paupers.

The Hightowers were one of the richest houses in Westeros. They controlled Oldtown, the second-largest city in the realm. They had their hands in trade from across the known world. They funded the Citadel, patronized the Faith. Their wealth was closer to the Lannisters than even the Tyrells.

A marriage to Ashara wouldn't bring any significant economic benefits beyond strengthening ties with Dorne and maybe an increase in trade with Starfall's humble port. Prestige and honor couldn’t feed an army. It didn't buy ships or weapons or the thousand other things I needed to build the force that could make a difference when everything went to shit.

Letting out a breath, I settled deeper into the tub, closing my eyes, and unbidden, a picture formed in my head. Ashara's face this morning when I'd walked into the family dining room. That look of surprise and delight. Before Father came in and screwed it all up with talk of Hightower betrothals.

Gods, but she'd somehow gotten even more beautiful than I remembered. Those violet eyes. That dark hair. The way she glided like a fairy when she walked. How witty she was. 

What was a man supposed to do against beauty like that?

I dunked my head under the water, trying to clear my thoughts. When I came up, I forced myself to think practically.

Marriage options. Real options. House Morrigen. Old Stormlander house, with a seat near our  new one on the mainland. A marriage there could secure the western approaches to the Ivy Fort.House Caron. Marcher lords, with a good martial tradition, lots of knights, and a daughter of age. Could be useful when the wars came. House Dondarrion. Not as rich as some, but respected, and the Lightning Lord's lands were strategic in the Red Mountains.

Or look further afield. Coastal houses all over the Narrow Sea, maybe. Lord Lucerys had all but offered me some of his Velaryon cousins, and I’m sure I could find a wife in Gulltown or even with the Manderlys at White Harbor. We’d certainly make big, strong children.

The Westerlands. House Lannister itself was out of reach, I was sure, but there were Lannister cousins. Lannisters of Lannisport. Houses sworn to Casterly Rock that would love a connection to a rising house and could come in with plenty of gold as a dowry.

Then there was the Reach, of course. Plenty of wealthy houses there. And though I didn’t think Malora was truly interested, would it be a bad thing if she were? She was just as beautiful as Ashara, and certainly richer, even if she was as mad she was mysterious.

"Fuck," I muttered to the empty room.

This was why I'd avoided thinking about it. Because when I did think about it, when I really let myself consider it, I only came up with more question marks.

I stayed in the bath until the water started to cool. Then I climbed out, dried off, and dressed in clean clothes that felt impossibly luxurious after two months in the same travel-stained leathers.

I needed to talk to Father. Get his advice. See what he thought about the political implications of various matches.

And then... then I needed to talk to Ashara.

xxx

Later that morning, I left Father's solar with none of my doubts erased.

He thought if I was old and smart enough to do the work I was already doing of building a private army, managing trade operations, and conducting military campaigns, then I was old and smart enough to pick a wife responsibly.

Though he'd given me plenty of advice on love, which basically translated to him gushing about Mother for a good ten minutes. How she'd made him laugh. How she'd challenged him. How she was the smartest person he'd ever met. How he thanked the gods every day that his father had let him choose for himself.

He wasn't wrong on either account. I'd never accept a marriage I didn't desire, so there was little point in him picking for me.

But it didn't make the decision any easier.

He did tell me about the work settling the newcomers at the Ivyfort, the port we were building on the coast that was coming along well, and the plans for roads connecting our new holdings to the rest of Cape Wrath, which were not so much. Still, Ser Endrew was doing good work there, managing the influx of refugees and coordinating with the knightly families who'd sworn to us.

Father also passed over the report written by Jace's man. So far, we were clear. No signs of trouble. No indication that Ser Endrew was anything other than loyal. No problems with the new vassals. No signs of enmity from the new neighbors.

One less thing to worry about.

I also got to read Lord Leyton Hightower's letter. It confirmed what I'd already imagined. It was the diplomatic, medieval equivalent of sending a text asking: "What's this I hear about your son and my daughter?" Only his source of gossip had been the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, which gave Gerold, the crazy old fool, plenty of credibility. 

I'd have to write a response as soon as possible. One for Lord Hightower, of course. But also a clarifying one for Ser Baelor. And perhaps even one for Malora herself, though I had no idea what I'd say.

Dear Lady Malora, thank you for the glass candle. It’s been helpful when I need to have my brain broken by fire witches. Also, sorry your grand-uncle thinks we're getting married. Best wishes, Galladon.

Yeah, that would go over well.

I was halfway to my chambers when I ran into Arianne in the hallway.

"There you are," she said. "I've been looking for you." She stepped beside me as we walked and spoke low enough only I could hear. “It's too bad I couldn't just look in the glass candle to see where you were.”

"Nice try," I said flatly.

She gave me an impish smile. "Worth a shot." Then she turned to me, her expression serious. “I need to tell you something. Well, somethings.”

That got my attention. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. Just... come with me. My rooms are closest."

Her chambers were just down the corridor. We slipped inside and she closed the door behind us, checking to make sure no servants were nearby.

The room was quintessentially Arianne. Books stacked on every surface. A half-finished sketch on her desk. Her bed a rumpled mess. The only thing missing were some emo band posters in the walls to tie up the space.

She settled onto the edge of her bed, gesturing for me to sit beside her.

"So," she started. "I've been observing the Dornish ladies while they've been here."

I raised an eyebrow. "Oh? I didn't think you were suited as a spy."

"Do you want to hear this or not?" She crossed her arms.

"No, no. Go ahead."

"I thought they were suspicious at first," Arianne said. "Just coming to visit Tarth for no true reason. And without sending word or announcing themselves when they arrived either."

I blinked. "Wait, what? They didn't send word?" I had been out for two months on the road, so I had thought I’d simply been away for the whole process of their visit.

"Mother said there was no raven. Princess Elia claimed it must have gone astray, but..." Arianne shrugged. "I don't think that's true. I think they wanted to arrive unannounced."

My mind churned. Why would they go to such lengths? He suspected a big reason they were coming was for the Princess to meet with Gerion. If Ser Sarek had told him the truth, then the two of them would be almost an item at this point. But that didn’t mean they needed to skulk their way into the island.

"While you were gone," she continued, "I've been trying to do as you said. I've been joining the ladies' meetings when Mother holds them. Watching their auras for any sign of treachery or deception."

I looked at her with genuine surprise. "You have?"

"Yes. And I've begun doing it for the household too. Any visitors who come to the castle." She wouldn't meet my eyes. "I thought... I thought it might be useful. After what happened with Lenora."

I reached over and patted her head, the way I used to when we were children. "I'm glad. I'm proud of you, Ari."

She made an exasperated noise and batted my hand away. But I could see through it as easily as she read people's feelings. She enjoyed the praise.

"What about the Dornish, then?" I asked. "Did you find anything concerning?"

For a moment, I wondered if I'd read them wrong all along and they didn't actually have good intentions. The Stormlander in me even thought: Of course. They're Dornishmen after all.

But Arianne shook her head. "It's not what you think. It's Lady Ashara."

My stomach did something complicated. "What about her?"

Arianne's pale cheeks suddenly flushed. "She's... she's pink."

"Pink?"

"Her aura. Every time someone talks about you around her, it gets bright pink. Like..." Arianne struggled for words. "Like sunrise. Like flowers. Like..." She bit her lip. "I think she loves you."

Oh.

Well.

I swallowed hard. "Love is a big word, Ari. It's thrown around too easily sometimes. Mother and Father have been together for almost twenty years, and you see how they are with each other. That’s love. What you're seeing with Ashara is probably just infatuation."

"Maybe," Arianne allowed. "But it's there. And it's real."

"I see. Thank you for your wisdom, my lady."

"Hey don’t joke about this.” Her eyes were fierce now. “You shouldn't play with a lady's heart, Gal!" 

I raised my hands in surrender. "I know, I know. I don't plan to do anything nefarious with her heart, I promise. Things are just... complicated."

Her eyes softened. "I know."

"You know about love complications now, do you?" I looked at her skeptically. "At thirteen?"

Arianne snorted. "No, stupid. I know that your situation is complicated. I hadn't put it together until today. Until Father blurted out about the Hightower girl and you mentioned where you stopped on the way back from the tourney.” She shot me a knowing look. “Then I remembered reading the only mention of glass candles in a book about the Citadel and the Hightower's library."

My gaze sharpened. "Put what together, Ari?"

I already knew the answer. But I needed to hear her say it.

"It was Lady Malora who gave it to you, wasn't it?"

I didn't answer. Just looked at her.

That seemed to be enough.

"You don't have to tell me," she said quickly. "It's more that there's something you should know about her. Well, I think it's her. If she was truly the one who gave you the glass candle."

I pulled her closer, lowering my voice even though we were alone. "You can't tell this to anyone else, Ari. For her sake more than anything. It's not our secret to tell."

"I know, I know." She nodded seriously. "Trust me, I owe her more than you know."

"What do you mean?"

Arianne sighed, looking down at her lap. Then she took a deep breath, looked up, and told me about the strange specter-figure she'd met in the glass candle world. A woman shrouded in mist and shadow who'd appeared when Arianne was lost and afraid, guided her back to her body, and taught her how the candle world worked.

Apparently, she'd deliberately chosen to hide it from me back then, afraid that I’d take the candle away from her since she was basically disregarding the biggest stranger danger rule, only she was doing in a magical, parallel reality. And then by the time we'd had our family talk and she'd decided to clean up her act, she hadn't even remembered to mention it. Too much time had passed and it had just slipped her mind.

But now that she'd made the connection between Malora Hightower and the candle world specter, she thought I needed to know something important.

While Lady Ashara's affection for me was genuine, Arianne didn't think I was right in saying that the whole thing with Lady Malora was a misunderstanding by the Lord Commander. She thought there had to be something there as well. Malora had played her own part in saving our mother, guiding Arianne through the glass candle when she'd needed it most.

And she didn't think Malora would have done that if she didn't have a reason for it.

In her mind, what other reason could a young maiden have to help a young knight?

Once again, I left a family member's presence feeling all the more confused than when I'd entered. My life was becoming impossibly tangled, and I could see no clear path forward for my romantic future.

I was only saved from spiraling further when a servant found me in the corridor to tell me a Lannister ship had been spotted in the horizon.