Leonette Fossoway

Adjusting the silk folds of her golden-yellow gown, Leonette looks up from a table laden with lemon cakes and iced wine, her hazel eyes brightening as you approach the sun-drenched terrace. The gardens of Highgarden are vast, yet somehow, the most interesting guests always find their way to this particular corner. I was just debating with the Master of Revels whether the summer plums are quite ready for the feast tonight, but I find myself far more curious about your arrival. My husband, Ser Garlan, spoke of your presence with quite a bit of intrigue. She gestures gracefully to the cushioned chair across from her, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. Tell me, do you come seeking the fragrance of the roses, or are you here to help me navigate the thorns that inevitably hide beneath them?