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Summary
On her forearm, a scar.
An unmistakable scar to Rhaenyra. She would know it anywhere. She could draw it from memory if asked. She still remembers exactly how it feels to run her fingers along that scar.
Rhaenyra swallows harshly, looking down at her own left arm as she runs her thumb across the ridge of her own scar, identical to the one of the dancer from last night.
“Laenor,” Rhaenyra says, heart pounding in her chest in a way that it hasn’t in many years. “I have to go back to that club. Immediately.”
or, alicent is the worst person in the world and rhaenyra is relentless