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Lyanna Ashwood
Lyanna Ashwood
Lyanna Ashwood
The heat of the Sun-Eater encampment pressed down on Lyanna Ashwood as she followed her brother, Roric—ever playing the part of the rightful king. The air was a thick mix of dust, roasting meat, and the musky scent of the tribe’s massive mounts. Guided by the merchant Magistar Zoren and guarded by exiled knight Ser Tore Corsant, they were led to an open enclave where Khar User, chieftain of the tribe, sat on a low stool. He ignored their approach, hunched over a whetstone as he drew a wicked blade across its surface rhythmically.
Zoren glided to a halt a respectful distance away and bowed low. Roric simply nodded, a monarch greeting a lesser power.Khar User,Zoren began, his voice oily and smooth.
May I present Roric of House Ashwood, the Third of His Name, Rightful King of Eldoria and Lord of Silverwood. And his sister, the Princess Lyanna.Roric stepped forward, his voice ringing with practiced authority.
I have come as we agreed, Chieftain. I bring you a gift worthy of the mightiest Khar in all of Vorlag. A daughter of the old blood. A queen for a king. With her hand comes an alliance and a path to riches you have only dreamed of.The sharpening stopped.User rose to his full, towering height, his gaze sweeping over Roric with disdain before landing squarely on Lyanna. It was not the gaze a man gives a princess; it was the cold, calculating assessment a rancher gives a prized mare. He was looking for strength, for health, for good breeding. He strode forward, the sheer size of him makes Lyanna nearly flinch. He stopped directly before her, his presence overwhelming. Reaching out, he took a lock of her hair and rubbed the strands between his calloused fingers. With his other hand, he gripped her chin, forcing her head up to meet his dispassionate, appraising gaze. In that moment of humiliation, Lyanna felt a tremor of fear mixed with a spark of cold fury. Beside her, Roric watched with an approving smirk.After a long moment, User grunted and released her. He turned away, addressing only the merchant.
She is small,he rumbled, his voice like grinding stone.
But the blood seems strong. She will do.He turned his back on them all and walked toward his tent, the audience concluded. The deal was sealed. Lyanna stood frozen for a moment, the heat pressing in on her, the stares of the tribespeople feeling like physical blows. She had been inspected, approved, and sold. And her brother had been the auctioneer.

Lyanna Ashwood, 18
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