The door was kicked open.
It wasn't an ordinary wooden door, but a heavy oak one reinforced with iron—one that would normally take at least two grown men to break down together.
Yet a single iron-shod boot smashed it apart as effortlessly as if it were made of paper.
The crack of splintering wood echoed through the narrow stairwell like a muffled clap of thunder.
Lyonel's three trusted young guards, stationed outside on the staircase, didn't even have time to draw their swords.
Seven figures in white armor surged up the stairs like a white tide, swallowing them whole in an instant.
Their armor bore the seven-pointed star, their cloaks were pure white, and golden seven-pointed stars were embroidered onto their collars.
Standing by the window, Lyonel's mind went completely blank.
He didn't even have time to wonder why the Faith had armed men.
The Targaryens had outlawed that three generations ago.
He didn't have time to think about how they had found this rented house.
He didn't even have time to think about what would happen next.
But Samantha reacted faster than he did.
"Get dressed!"
Her voice was sharp but steady. She tore herself from his embrace, bare feet landing on the cold stone floor as her hands hurriedly tied the laces of her bodice.
Lyonel was half a beat slower.
He had only just grabbed the shirt lying beside the bed when the door was kicked completely open.
A flood of white poured into the room.
Not light.
People.
A group of men in white armor filed inside behind an elderly man. Their armor reflected the candlelight with a cold silver sheen, while the seven-pointed stars on their breastplates and cloaks gleamed brightly.
Each knight wore a sword at his waist. Around every hilt were carved the symbols of the Seven—the Father, the Mother, the Warrior, the Maiden, the Smith, the Crone, and the Stranger—each face exquisitely detailed.
The old man at the front lowered his hood, revealing an aged face lined with deep wrinkles.
The High Septon.
At that moment, Lyonel felt his blood freeze.
The High Septon's dull gray eyes, as lifeless as stagnant water, slowly swept across the room.
Across the rumpled bed.
Across the scattered clothes on the floor.
Across Lyonel's bare upper body.
Across Samantha's half-laced bodice and her exposed shoulder.
Silence filled the room.
It was more suffocating than any scolding could have been.
At last, the High Septon spoke.
"Lyonel Hightower."
"And Samantha Hightower..."
"I thought the two of you possessed at least a shred of shame."
"It seems I overestimated you."
His gaze shifted from Lyonel to Samantha, then back again.
"What a disgrace..."
Those words struck Lyonel like daggers, one after another, burying themselves deep in his chest.
His face flushed crimson.
His lips trembled as he tried to speak, but it felt as though something were lodged in his throat. Not a single word would come out.
The High Septon took a step forward.
Stopping before Lyonel, he looked up at the young man. Though half a head shorter, there was something new in his eyes now.
Pain.
Or perhaps disappointment.
"You should be ashamed of yourself, Lyonel," the High Septon said slowly.
"You are House Hightower's heir."
"Your house has long been the guardian of Oldtown, the protector of the Citadel, and the Faith's most loyal servant."
"Your ancestors stood here when the Andals invaded. They built the Starry Sept. They welcomed the Faith across the sea and made Oldtown the center of the worship of the Seven."
He raised a hand and pointed a finger at Lyonel.
"And what have you done?"
"In a rented house... with your own stepmother..."
He didn't finish the sentence.
He didn't have to.
The color drained from Lyonel's face.
"And if..." the High Septon continued heavily, "your father were to learn of this..."
The words shattered Lyonel's last line of defense.
His legs suddenly gave way beneath him.
He dropped to his knees.
"Your Holiness!"
Lyonel's voice came out hoarse and frantic as he wrapped both arms around the High Septon's leg.
"It's all my fault!"
"I was the one who seduced Samantha!"
"I forced her!"
"It has nothing to do with her! Every sin is mine alone!"
"Please..."
"Enough."
But it wasn't the High Septon who spoke.
It was Lady Samantha.
Lyonel looked up to see that she had already finished tying her bodice and had slipped into a dark green outer robe.
She sat upright on the edge of the bed, her back perfectly straight, her red hair draped over her shoulders.
The panic from moments before had vanished.
Only calm remained.
"I was the one who seduced Lyonel," Samantha said evenly.
"I sought him out."
"I tempted him."
"I was the one who brought him to this house."
"The sin is mine, not Lyonel's."
The High Septon turned toward her, surprise flickering briefly across his gray eyes.
He hadn't expected the woman to willingly take all the blame.
According to the Faith's doctrine, adultery was an equal sin for both men and women.
Public opinion, however, had never judged them equally.
An adulterous man might one day be forgiven.
An adulterous woman never would be.
"Lady Samantha."
"Do you understand what you're saying?"
"I do," Samantha replied.
"I know exactly what I'm saying."
"Do you know the punishment for adultery?"
"I do."
She raised her eyes and met the High Septon's gaze without flinching.
"I will be sent to the Silent Sisters."
"To be confined for life."
"Never to speak to another soul again."
"To spend every day praying, laboring, and repenting until death."
Lyonel's pupils contracted violently.
"No!"
He sprang to his feet, rushed in front of Samantha, and spread his arms to shield her.
"You can't! You can't do this!"
"She's the Lady of House Hightower!"
"She's Lord Tarly's daughter!"
"If you so much as touch a single hair on her head, House Hightower will—"
"Will do what?" the High Septon asked calmly, glancing at him.
Lyonel fell silent.
The High Septon took another step forward, walked around Lyonel, and stopped before Samantha.
"Your Holiness," Samantha said as she looked directly at the old man.
"If you expose this..."
"You'll be offending far more than House Hightower."
"You'll also be offending House Tarly."
"I am Lord Tarly's daughter."
"My family will never stand by and watch me be sent to the Silent Sisters."
"Are you certain you want to do this?"
The High Septon narrowed his eyes slightly.
House Tarly of Horn Hill.
One of the Reach's oldest and proudest houses. Their words were First in Battle, and their armies were renowned for their iron discipline.
If Samantha were truly sent to the Silent Sisters by the Faith, House Tarly would be furious.
Not because they cared so deeply about Samantha herself, but because it concerned the family's honor.
The entire house would be humiliated.
"My duty leaves me no choice," the High Septon replied cautiously.
"Adultery... especially adultery between a stepmother and her stepson..."
"It is an offense against both morality and nature."
"It violates the teachings of the Seven."
"No noble house stands above the Seven, Lady Samantha."
"Not even House Tarly."
Samantha stared at him for a long moment.
"Then what do you intend to do, Your Holiness?"
The High Septon remained silent, studying the two of them.
Only after a long pause did he finally speak.
"I will give you two choices."
He raised two fingers.
Lyonel and Samantha silently watched him.
"The first choice..."
He lowered one finger.
"Lady Samantha, you will choose of your own free will to enter the Silent Sisters."
"The Faith will keep this matter secret."
"You will enter the Starry Sept under the pretense of voluntarily dedicating your life to the Seven."
"No one will ever know the truth."
"Lyonel will remain the heir to House Hightower."
"House Hightower's honor will be preserved."
"So will House Tarly's."
"Everything will continue as before."
Hearing that, the young Lyonel clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white.
"How dare you!"
He roared at the High Septon, his voice echoing through the room.
"If you send her to the Silent Sisters, I'll—"
"You'll do what?" the High Septon asked coldly.
"Storm the Starry Sept with those few green boys of yours?"
"Enough."
Samantha cut them off once again.
"Your Holiness," she said calmly, looking at the old man.
"Tell us about your second choice."
"I don't believe any of this happened by accident."
The old man looked at her in silence for several seconds.
Then he smiled.
"Lady Samantha... you truly are a clever woman."
"I prefer speaking with clever people."
He lowered his remaining finger, turned to Lyonel, and placed both hands heavily on the young man's shoulders.
"The second choice..."
The old man's gray eyes locked onto Lyonel's.
"We need you."
"Lyonel Hightower..."
Lyonel froze.
"Me?"
He pointed at himself, his face filled with confusion and disbelief.
"Yes."
The High Septon nodded.
"You."
Lyonel's thoughts raced.
Need me?
What could the Faith possibly need from me?
But the old man's next words made his entire body go rigid.
"Your father has abandoned the Seven," the High Septon said calmly.
"For many years, House Hightower and the Faith have enjoyed a close partnership."
"And the Faith has always supported your house."
"But your father, Lord Ormund..."
"He chose the wrong side."
The High Septon sighed.
"He chose to support Aemond Targaryen."
"The kingslayer."
"The kinslayer."
"The patricide."
"The blasphemer who has defiled the Seven."
His voice suddenly turned ice cold.
"He has forgotten his duty as the guardian of Oldtown."
"Oldtown is the heart of the Faith of the Seven."
"Instead..."
"He chose to become a servant of House Targaryen."
Lyonel's lips trembled.
He already understood what the High Septon was implying.
"You want me to kill my own father?"
The High Septon looked genuinely surprised.
"Kinslaying?"
The old man shook his head.
"Kinslaying is one of the gravest of sins."
"The Seven curse every kinslayer."
"Neither the laws of men nor the laws of the Seven would ever forgive such a crime."
"Why would I ask you to murder your own father and burden yourself with such a terrible sin?"
Lady Samantha finally spoke again.
"Stop speaking in riddles, Your Holiness."
"What exactly do you want?"
The High Septon glanced at her.
"My demands are quite modest."
His gaze returned to Lyonel.
"The next Lord Hightower..."
"Will be you."
Lyonel's pupils shrank.
"You... you... you..."
His trembling finger pointed at the old man.
"You want to murder my father?"
"You intend to assassinate Lord Hightower?"
The High Septon gave no answer.
He merely stood there, quietly watching Lyonel.
Lyonel's anger erupted like a volcano.
He charged at the old man, throwing a punch.
Had it connected, the High Septon's aged face would have been left a bloody mess.
But it never landed.
Two hands clad in white steel gauntlets shot out from either side, seizing Lyonel's arms at the same time.
They belonged to the two knights standing behind the High Septon.
His arms were locked in place, suspended in midair, unable to move.
"Let me go!"
Lyonel struggled wildly, kicking and thrashing.
"You madmen!"
"You want me to betray my own father?"
"You want me to betray House Hightower?"
The High Septon raised a hand and made a small gesture.
The knights released Lyonel's arms but remained at his side, ready to restrain him again at a moment's notice.
"Calm yourself, child," the old man said patiently.
"No one is asking you to betray your father."
"We simply want House Hightower to stand on the right side."
"The right side?"
Lyonel rubbed his aching arms, breathing heavily, his eyes bloodshot.
"And what exactly is the right side? The Faith intends to kill Aemond Targaryen?"
"Have you all lost your minds?"
"Perhaps," the High Septon replied calmly. "But if he doesn't die, even more people will be reduced to ash."
"That Prince Regent's hands are drenched in blood."
"Lyonel, he is not a ruler."
"He is the next Maegor."
"If he continues pulling the strings behind the Iron Throne, the Seven Kingdoms will become a slaughterhouse."
"And what does that have to do with me?" Lyonel practically shouted.
The High Septon looked at him steadily.
"I am not asking you to kill your father, Lyonel."
"I simply hope you do not follow in his footsteps."
"Your father will die."
"Perhaps not on the battlefield..."
"But when that day comes..."
"You will become the next Lord Hightower."
Silence settled over the room for a long time.
Lyonel stood motionless, his head lowered, his hair hanging over his face.
"And afterward..."
His voice was so quiet it was almost inaudible.
"What will happen to Samantha and me?"
A faint smile tugged at the old man's lips.
"If you are willing to help the Faith..."
"The Faith will not pursue the matter between you and Lady Samantha."
"Afterward, we will quietly allow..."
Lyonel suddenly looked up, fury blazing in his eyes.
"So that's it."
"You intend to use this to blackmail me?"
"If I refuse, you'll expose everything, strip me of my place as heir, and leave Samantha condemned by the entire realm?"
"You're forcing me!"
"I am merely offering you a choice," the High Septon replied calmly.
"A better choice."
Still unwilling to yield, Lyonel glared at him and shouted through gritted teeth.
"You're forcing me!"
"Your Holiness, you should remember this—House Hightower still commands more than two thousand men in Oldtown's city garrison."
"If they were to storm the Starry Sept—"
The High Septon looked toward the knights beside him and let out a cold laugh.
"Lyonel."
"You are welcome to try."
"When the time comes..."
"You'll understand."
Samantha stopped the furious Lyonel.
She had already noticed the knights.
By rights, the Targaryens had long forbidden the Faith from maintaining an armed force...
Or even knightly orders.
Yet now...
It seemed the Faith had secretly rebuilt its militant orders.
She understood better than anyone the power of faith.
If Lyonel truly led soldiers against the Starry Sept...
The men under his command would likely never dare commit such an act of sacrilege.
The whole of Oldtown might well turn against its own lord.
The High Septon looked at Lyonel's unwilling expression, his own face suddenly turning stern.
"You have no other choice, Lyonel."
"Who do you think you are?"
"Once your scandal with Samantha spreads across the Seven Kingdoms..."
"What will you have left?"
Lyonel's face turned deathly pale.
He looked at Samantha.
She had remained standing behind him the entire time, saying nothing, never moving.
"If I agree..."
Lyonel turned back to the High Septon, his voice hoarse.
"What do you need me to do?"
The High Septon's eyes brightened.
"It's very simple."
"The Stranger will soon come for your father."
"After that..."
"All you need to do is recall House Hightower's army."
"Recall them?" Lyonel frowned.
"Yes. Bring them back to Oldtown," the High Septon answered calmly.
"And then?" Lyonel asked.
"And then?"
The High Septon smiled.
"Then you need do nothing at all."
"You need only wait."
"When the time comes, you will be free to decide House Hightower's allegiance."
"You may continue supporting the Greens."
"You may side with the Blacks."
"Or remain neutral."
"The Faith will not interfere."
"But you'd prefer I support the Faith," Lyonel said coldly.
"I hope you will stand with justice," the High Septon replied.
"And justice, as it happens, stands with the Faith."
Lyonel fell silent.
He thought of his father.
Lord Ormund Hightower had never been a good father.
He was stern, rigid, and rarely showed affection.
But he was still his father.
Lyonel felt his throat tighten.
He could not betray his father.
But neither could he lose Samantha.
"If I refuse..."
He looked at the High Septon, his voice calm.
"What will you do?"
The High Septon let out a long sigh, one filled with regret.
"Then I will have no choice but to reveal your sins to the world."
"I believe every honorable knight and every faithful follower of the Seven will have their own opinion of you—the heir to House Hightower who committed adultery with his own stepmother."
"Your reputation will be utterly destroyed."
The High Septon paused.
"And your father..."
"He will still die at King's Landing."
"Because that is the fate awaiting him."
Lyonel clenched his fists once more.
"You're threatening me," he said.
"I am saving you," the High Septon replied.
The two men stared at each other for a long time.
At last, Lyonel lowered his head.
His entire body trembled.
Not from fear.
But from the helpless fury that had nowhere left to go.
"I accept."
His voice was so low it was barely audible.