Seated on her gold-and-crimson high seat beneath the Iron Throne, Cersei could feel a growing tightness in her neck. Must, she thought. She dares say “must” to me. She itched2 to slap the Tyrell girl across the face. She should be on her knees, begging for my help. Instead, she presumes to tell her rightful queen what she must do.
“A thousand ships?” Ser Harys Swyft was wheezing3. “Surely not. No lord commands a thousand ships.”
“Some frightened fool has counted double,” agreed Orton Merryweather. “That, or Lord Tyrell’s bannermen are lying to us, puffing4 up the numbers of the foe5 so we will not think them lax.”
The torches on the back wall threw the long, barbed shadow of the Iron Throne halfway6 to the doors. The far end of the hall was lost in darkness, and Cersei could not but feel that the shadows were closing around her too. My enemies are everywhere, and my friends are useless. She had only to glance at her councillors to know that; only Lord Qyburn and Aurane Waters seemed awake. The others had been roused from bed by Margaery’s messengers pounding on their doors, and stood there rumpled7 and confused. Outside the night was black and still. The castle and the city slept. Boros Blount and Meryn Trant seemed to be sleeping too, albeit8 on their feet. Even Osmund Kettleblack was yawning. Not Loras, though. Not our Knight9 of Flowers. He stood behind his little sister, a pale shadow with a longsword on his hip1.
“Half as many ships would still be five hundred, my lord,” Waters pointed10 out to Orton Merryweather. “Only the Arbor11 has enough strength at sea to oppose a fleet that size.”
“What of your new dromonds?” asked Ser Harys. “The longships of the ironmen cannot stand before our dromonds, surely? King Robert’s Hammer is the mightiest13 warship14 in all Westeros.”
“She was,” said Waters. “Sweet Cersei will be her equal, once complete, and Lord Tywin will be twice the size of either. Only half are fitted out, however, and none is fully15 crewed. Even when they are, the numbers would be greatly against us. The common longship is small compared to our galleys17, this is true, but the ironmen have larger ships as well. Lord Balon’s Great Kraken and the warships18 of the Iron Fleet were made for battle, not for raids. They are the equal of our lesser19 war galleys in speed and strength, and most are better crewed and captained. The ironmen live their whole lives at sea.”
Robert should have scoured20 the isles21 after Balon Greyjoy rose against him, Cersei thought. He smashed their fleet, burned their towns, and broke their castles, but when he had them on their knees he let them up again. He should have made another island of their skulls22. That was what her father would have done, but Robert never had the stomach that a king requires if he hopes to keep peace in the realm. “The ironmen have not dared raid the Reach since Dagon Greyjoy sat the Seastone Chair,” she said. “Why would they do so now? What has emboldened23 them?”
“Their new king.” Qyburn stood with his hands hidden up his sleeves. “Lord Balon’s brother. The Crow’s Eye, he is called.”
“Carrion crows make their feasts upon the carcasses of the dead and dying,” said Grand Maester Pycelle. “They do not descend24 upon hale and healthy animals. Lord Euron will gorge25 himself on gold and plunder26, aye, but as soon as we move against him he will back to Pyke, as Lord Dagon was wont27 to do in his day.”
“You are wrong,” said Margaery Tyrell. “Reavers do not come in such strength. A thousand ships! Lord Hewett and Lord Chester are slain28, as well as Lord Serry’s son and heir. Serry has fled to Highgarden with what few ships remain him, and Lord Grimm is a prisoner in his own castle. Willas says that the iron king has raised up four lords of his own in their places.”
Willas, Cersei thought, the cripple. He is to blame for this. That oaf Mace29 Tyrell left the defense30 of the Reach in the hands of a hapless weakling. “It is a long voyage from the Iron Isles to the Shields,” she pointed out. “How could a thousand ships come all that way without being seen?”
“Willas believes that they did not follow the coast,” said Margaery. “They made the voyage out of sight of land, sailing far out into the Sunset Sea and swooping31 back in from the west.”
More like the cripple did not have his watchtowers manned, and now he fears to have us know it. The little queen is making excuses for her brother. Cersei’s mouth was dry. I need a cup of Arbor gold. If the ironmen decided32 to take the Arbor next, the whole realm might soon be going thirsty. “Stannis may have had a hand in this. Balon Greyjoy offered my lord father an alliance. Perhaps his son has offered one to Stannis.”
Pycelle frowned. “What would Lord Stannis gain by . . .”
“He gains another foothold. And plunder, that as well. Stannis needs gold to pay his sellswords. By raiding in the west, he hopes he can distract us from Dragonstone and Storm’s End.”
Lord Merryweather nodded. “A diversion. Stannis is more cunning than we knew. Your Grace is clever to have seen through his ploy33.”
“Lord Stannis is striving to win the northmen to his cause,” said Pycelle. “If he befriends the ironborn, he cannot hope . . .”
“The northmen will not have him,” said Cersei, wondering how such a learned man could be so stupid. “Lord Manderly hacked34 the head and hands off the onion knight, we have that from the Freys, and half a dozen other northern lords have rallied to Lord Bolton. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Where else can Stannis turn, but to the ironmen and the wildlings, the enemies of the north? But if he thinks that I am going to walk into his trap, he is a bigger fool than you.” She turned back to the little queen. “The Shield Islands belong to the Reach. Grimm and Serry and the rest are sworn to Highgarden. It is for Highgarden to answer this.”
“Highgarden shall answer,” said Margaery Tyrell. “Willas has sent word to Leyton Hightower in Oldtown, so he can see to his own defenses. Garlan is gathering35 men to retake the isles. The best part of our power remains36 with my lord father, though. We must send word to him at Storm’s End. At once.”
“And lift the siege?” Cersei did not care for Margaery’s presumption37. She says “at once” to me. Does she take me for her handmaid? “I have no doubt that Lord Stannis would be pleased by that. Have you been listening, my lady? If he can draw our eyes away from Dragonstone and Storm’s End to these rocks . . .”
“Rocks?” gasped39 Margaery. “Did Your Grace say rocks?”
The Knight of Flowers put a hand upon his sister’s shoulder. “If it please Your Grace, from those rocks the ironmen threaten Oldtown and the Arbor. From strongholds on the Shields, raiders can sail up the Mander into the very heart of the Reach, as they did of old. With enough men they might even threaten Highgarden.”
“Truly?” said the queen, all innocence40. “Why then, your brave brothers had best roust them off those rocks, and quickly.”
“How would the queen suggest they accomplish that, without sufficient ships?” asked Ser Loras. “Willas and Garlan can raise ten thousand men within a fortnight and twice that in a moon’s turn, but they cannot walk on water, Your Grace.”
“Highgarden sits above the Mander,” Cersei reminded him. “You and your vassals41 command a thousand leagues of coast. Are there no fisherfolk along your shores? Do you have no pleasure barges42, no ferries, no river galleys, no skiffs?”
“Many and more,” Ser Loras admitted.
“Such should be more than sufficient to carry a host across a little stretch of water, I would think.”
“And when the longships of the ironborn descend upon our ragtag fleet as it is making its way across this ‘little stretch of water,’ what would Your Grace have us do then?”
Drown, thought Cersei. “Highgarden has gold as well. You have my leave to hire sellsails from beyond the narrow sea.”
“Pirates out of Myr and Lys, you mean?” Loras said with contempt. “The scum of the Free Cities?”
He is as insolent43 as his sister. “Sad to say, all of us must deal with scum from time to time,” she said with poisonous sweetness. “Perhaps you have a better notion?”
“Only the Arbor has sufficient galleys to retake the mouth of the Mander from the ironmen and protect my brothers from their longships during their crossing. I beg Your Grace, send word to Dragonstone and command Lord Redwyne to raise his sails at once.”
At least he has the sense to beg. Paxter Redwyne owned two hundred warships, and five times as many merchant carracks, wine cogs, trading galleys, and whalers. Redwyne was encamped beneath the walls of Dragonstone, however, and the greater part of his fleet was engaged in ferrying men across Blackwater Bay for the assault on that island stronghold. The remainder prowled Shipbreaker Bay to the south, where only their presence prevented Storm’s End from being resupplied by sea.
Aurane Waters bristled44 at Ser Loras’s suggestion. “If Lord Redwyne sails his ships away, how are we to supply our men on Dragonstone? Without the Arbor’s galleys, how will we maintain the siege of Storm’s End?”
“The siege can be resumed later, after—”
Cersei cut him off. “Storm’s End is a hundred times more valuable than the Shields, and Dragonstone . . . so long as Dragonstone remains in the hands of Stannis Baratheon, it is a knife at my son’s throat. We will release Lord Redwyne and his fleet when the castle falls.” The queen pushed herself to her feet. “This audience is at an end. Grand Maester Pycelle, a word.”
The old man started, as if her voice had woken him from some dream of youth, but before he could answer, Loras Tyrell strode forward, so swiftly that the queen drew back in alarm. She was about to shout for Ser Osmund to defend her when the Knight of Flowers sank to one knee. “Your Grace, let me take Dragonstone.”
His sister’s hand went to her mouth. “Loras, no.”
Ser Loras ignored her plea. “It will take half a year or more to starve Dragonstone into submission45, as Lord Paxter means to do. Give me the command, Your Grace. The castle will be yours within a fortnight if I have to tear it down with my bare hands.”
No one had given Cersei such a lovely gift since Sansa Stark46 had run to her to divulge47 Lord Eddard’s plans. She was pleased to see that Margaery had gone pale. “Your courage takes my breath away, Ser Loras,” Cersei said. “Lord Waters, are any of the new dromonds fit to put to sea?”
“Sweet Cersei is, Your Grace. A swift ship, and as strong as the queen she’s named for.”
“Splendid. Let Sweet Cersei carry our Knight of Flowers to Dragonstone at once. Ser Loras, the command is yours. Swear to me that you shall not return until Dragonstone is Tommen’s.”
“I shall, Your Grace.” He rose.
Cersei kissed him on both cheeks. She kissed his sister too, and whispered, “You have a gallant48 brother.” Either Margaery did not have the grace to answer or fear had stolen all her words.
Dawn was still several hours away when Cersei slipped out the king’s door behind the Iron Throne. Ser Osmund went before her with a torch and Qyburn strolled along beside her. Pycelle had to struggle to keep up. “If it please Your Grace,” he puffed49, “young men are overbold, and think only of the glory of battle and never of its dangers. Ser Loras . . . this plan of his is fraught50 with peril51. To storm the very walls of Dragonstone . . .”
“. . . is very brave.”
“. . . brave, yes, but . . .”
“I have no doubt that our Knight of Flowers will be the first man to gain the battlements.” And perhaps the first to fall. The pox-scarred bastard52 that Stannis had left to hold his castle was no callow tourney champion but a seasoned killer53. If the gods were good, he would give Ser Loras the glorious end he seemed to want. Assuming the boy does not drown on the way. There had been another storm last night, a savage54 one. The rain had come down in black sheets for hours. And wouldn’t that be sad? the queen mused55. Drowning is ordinary. Ser Loras lusts57 for glory as real men lust56 for women, the least the gods can do is grant him a death worthy58 of a song.
No matter what befell the boy on Dragonstone, however, the queen would be the winner. If Loras took the castle, Stannis would suffer a grievous blow, and the Redwyne fleet could sail off to meet the ironmen. If he failed, she would see to it that he had the lion’s share of the blame. Nothing tarnishes59 a hero as much as failure. And if he should come home on his shield, covered in blood and glory, Ser Osney will be there to console his grieving sister.
The laugh would not be contained any longer. It burst from Cersei’s lips, and echoed down the hall.
“Your Grace?” Grand Maester Pycelle blinked, his mouth sagging61 open. “Why . . . why would you laugh?”
“Why,” she had to say, “elsewise I might weep. My heart is bursting with love for our Ser Loras and his valor62.”
She left the Grand Maester on the serpentine63 steps. That one has outlived any usefulness he ever had, the queen decided. All Pycelle ever seemed to do of late was plague her with cautions and objections. He had even objected to the understanding she had reached with the High Septon, gaping64 at her with dim and rheumy eyes when she commanded him to prepare the necessary papers and babbling65 about old dead history until Cersei cut him off. “King Maegor’s day is done, and so are his decrees,” she said firmly. “This is King Tommen’s day, and mine.” I would have done better to let him perish in the black cells.
“Should Ser Loras fall, Your Grace will need to find another worthy for the Kingsguard,” Lord Qyburn said as they crossed over the spiked66 moat that girded Maegor’s Holdfast.
“Someone splendid,” she agreed. “Someone so young and swift and strong that Tommen will forget all about Ser Loras. A bit of gallantry would not be amiss, but his head should not be full of foolish notions. Do you know of such a man?”
“Alas, no,” said Qyburn. “I had another sort of champion in mind. What he lacks in gallantry he will give you tenfold in devotion. He will protect your son, kill your enemies, and keep your secrets, and no living man will be able to withstand him.”
“So you say. Words are wind. When the hour is ripe, you may produce this paragon67 of yours and we will see if he is all that you have promised.”
“They will sing of him, I swear it.” Lord Qyburn’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “Might I ask about the armor?”
“I have placed your order. The armorer thinks that I am mad. He assures me that no man is strong enough to move and fight in such a weight of plate.” Cersei gave the chainless maester a warning look. “Play me for a fool, and you’ll die screaming. You are aware of that, I trust?”
“Always, Your Grace.”
“Good. Say no more of this.”
“The queen is wise. These walls have ears.”
“So they do.” At night Cersei sometimes heard soft sounds, even in her own apartments. Mice in the walls, she would tell herself, no more than that.
A candle was burning by her bedside, but the hearthfire had gone out and there was no other light. The room was cold as well. Cersei undressed and slipped beneath the blankets, leaving her gown to puddle68 on the floor. Across the bed, Taena stirred. “Your Grace,” she murmured softly. “What hour is it?”
“The hour of the owl,” the queen replied.
Though Cersei often slept alone, she had never liked it. Her oldest memories were of sharing a bed with Jaime, when they had still been so young that no one could tell the two of them apart. Later, after they were separated, she’d had a string of bedmaids and companions, most of them girls of an age with her, the daughters of her father’s household knights69 and bannermen. None had pleased her, and few lasted very long. Little sneaks70, the lot of them. Vapid71, weepy creatures, always telling tales and trying to worm their way between me and Jaime. Still, there had been nights deep within the black bowels72 of the Rock when she had welcomed their warmth beside her. An empty bed was a cold bed.
Here most of all. There were chills in this room, and her wretched royal husband had died beneath this canopy73. Robert Baratheon, the First of His Name, may there never be a second. A dim, drunken brute74 of a man. Let him weep in hell. Taena warmed the bed as well as Robert ever had, and never tried to force Cersei’s legs apart. Of late she had shared the queen’s bed more often than Lord Merryweather’s. Orton did not seem to mind . . . or if he did, he knew better than to say so.
“I was concerned when I woke and found you gone,” murmured Lady Merryweather, sitting up against the pillows, the coverlets tangled75 about her waist. “Is aught amiss?”
“No,” said Cersei, “all is well. On the morrow Ser Loras will sail for Dragonstone, to win the castle, loose the Redwyne fleet, and prove his manhood to us all.” She told the Myrish woman all that had occurred beneath the shifting shadow of the Iron Throne. “Without her valiant76 brother, our little queen is next to naked. She has her guards, to be sure, but I have their captain here and there about the castle. A garrulous77 old man with a squirrel on his surcoat. Squirrels run from lions. He does not have it in him to defy the Iron Throne.”
“Margaery has other swords about her,” cautioned Lady Merryweather. “She has made many friends about the court, and she and her young cousins all have admirers.”
“A few suitors do not concern me,” Cersei said. “The army at Storm’s End, however . . .”
“What do you mean to do, Your Grace?”
“Why do you ask?” The question was a little too pointed for Cersei’s taste. “I do hope you are not thinking of sharing my idle musings with our poor little queen?”
“Never. I am not that girl Senelle.”
Cersei did not care to think about Senelle. She repaid my kindness with betrayal. Sansa Stark had done the same. So had Melara Hetherspoon and fat Jeyne Farman when the three of them were girls. I would never have gone into that tent if not for them. I would never have allowed Maggy the Frog to taste my morrows in a drop of blood. “I would be very sad if you ever betrayed my trust, Taena. I would have no choice but to give you to Lord Qyburn, but I know that I should weep.”
“I will never give you cause to weep, Your Grace. If I do, say the word, and I will give myself to Qyburn. I want only to be close to you. To serve you, however you require.”
“And for this service, what reward will you expect?”
“Nothing. It pleases me to please you.” Taena rolled onto her side, her olive skin shining in the candlelight. Her breasts were larger than the queen’s and tipped with huge nipples, black as horn. She is younger than I am. Her breasts have not begun to sag60. Cersei wondered what it would feel like to kiss another woman. Not lightly on the cheek, as was common courtesy amongst ladies of high birth, but full upon the lips. Taena’s lips were very full. She wondered what it would feel like to suckle on those breasts, to lay the Myrish woman on her back and push her legs apart and use her as a man would use her, the way Robert would use her when the drink was in him, and she was unable to bring him off with hand or mouth.
Those had been the worst nights, lying helpless underneath78 him as he took his pleasure, stinking79 of wine and grunting80 like a boar. Usually he rolled off and went to sleep as soon as it was done, and was snoring before his seed could dry upon her thighs81. She was always sore afterward82, raw between the legs, her breasts painful from the mauling he would give them. The only time he’d ever made her wet was on their wedding night.
Robert had been handsome enough when they first married, tall and strong and powerful, but his hair was black and heavy, thick on his chest and coarse around his sex. The wrong man came back from the Trident, the queen would sometimes think as he was plowing83 her. In the first few years, when he mounted her more often, she would close her eyes and pretend that he was Rhaegar. She could not pretend that he was Jaime; he was too different, too unfamiliar84. Even the smell of him was wrong.
For Robert, those nights never happened. Come morning he remembered nothing, or so he would have had her believe. Once, during the first year of their marriage, Cersei had voiced her displeasure the next day. “You hurt me,” she complained. He had the grace to look ashamed. “It was not me, my lady,” he said in a sulky sullen85 tone, like a child caught stealing apple cakes from the kitchen. “It was the wine. I drink too much wine.” To wash down his admission, he reached for his horn of ale. As he raised it to his mouth, she smashed her own horn in his face, so hard she chipped a tooth. Years later at a feast, she heard him telling a serving wench how he’d cracked the tooth in a mêlée. Well, our marriage was a mêlée, she reflected, so he did not lie.
The rest had all been lies, though. He did remember what he did to her at night, she was convinced of that. She could see it in his eyes. He only pretended to forget; it was easier to do that than to face his shame. Deep down Robert Baratheon was a coward. In time the assaults did grow less frequent. During the first year he took her at least once a fortnight; by the end it was not even once a year. He never stopped completely, though. Sooner or later there would always come a night when he would drink too much and want to claim his rights. What shamed him in the light of day gave him pleasure in the darkness.
“My queen?” said Taena Merryweather. “You have a strange look in your eyes. Are you unwell?”
“I was just . . . remembering.” Her throat was dry. “You are a good friend, Taena. I have not had a true friend in . . .”
Someone hammered at the door.
Again? The urgency of the sound made her shiver. Have another thousand ships descended86 on us? She slipped into a bedrobe and went to see who it was. “Beg pardon for disturbing you, Your Grace,” the guardsman said, “but Lady Stokeworth is below, begging audience.”
“At this hour?” snapped Cersei. “Has Falyse lost her wits? Tell her I have retired87. Tell her that smallfolk on the Shields are being slaughtered88. Tell her that I have been awake for half the night. I will see her on the morrow.”
The guard hesitated. “If it please Your Grace, she’s . . . she’s not in a good way, if you take my meaning.”
Cersei frowned. She had assumed Falyse was here to tell her that Bronn was dead. “Very well. I shall need to dress. Take her to my solar and have her wait.” When Lady Merryweather made to rise and come with her, the queen demurred89. “No, stay. One of us should get some rest, at least. I shan’t be long.”
Lady Falyse’s face was bruised90 and swollen91, her eyes red from her tears. Her lower lip was broken, her clothing soiled and torn. “Gods be good,” Cersei said as she ushered92 her into the solar and closed the door. “What has happened to your face?”
Falyse did not seem to hear the question. “He killed him,” she said in a quavery voice. “Mother have mercy, he . . . he . . .” She broke down sobbing94, her whole body trembling.
Cersei poured a cup of wine and took it to the weeping woman. “Drink this. The wine will calm you. That’s it. A little more now. Stop that weeping and tell me why you’re here.”
It took the rest of the flagon before the queen was finally able to coax95 the whole sad tale out of Lady Falyse. Once she had, she did not know whether to laugh or rage. “Single combat,” she repeated. Is there no one in the Seven Kingdoms that I can rely upon? Am I the only one in Westeros with a pinch of wits? “You are telling me Ser Balman challenged Bronn to single combat?”
“He said it would be s-s-simple. The lance is a kn-knight’s weapon, he said, and B-Bronn was no true knight. Balman said he would unhorse him and finish him as he lay st-st-stunned.”
Bronn was no knight, that was true. Bronn was a battle-hardened killer. Your cretin of a husband wrote his own death warrant. “A splendid plan. Dare I ask how it went awry97?”
“B-Bronn drove his lance through the chest of Balman’s poor h-h-h-horse. Balman, he . . . his legs were crushed when the beast fell. He screamed so piteously . . .”
Sellswords have no pity, Cersei might have said. “I asked you to arrange a hunting mishap98. An arrow gone astray, a fall from a horse, an angry boar . . . there are so many ways a man can die in the woods. None of them involving lances.”
Falyse did not seem to hear her. “When I tried to run to my Balman, he, he, he struck me in the face. He made my lord c-c-confess. Balman was crying out for Maester Frenken to attend him, but the sellsword, he, he, he . . .”
“Confess?” Cersei did not like that word. “I trust our brave Ser Balman held his tongue.”
“Bronn put a dagger99 in his eye, and told me I had best be gone from Stokeworth before the sun went down or I’d get the same. He said he’d pass me around to the g-g-garrison, if any of them would have me. When I ordered Bronn seized, one of his knights had the insolence100 to say that I should do as Lord Stokeworth said. He called him Lord Stokeworth!” Lady Falyse clutched at the queen’s hand. “Your Grace must give me knights. A hundred knights! And crossbowmen, to take my castle back. Stokeworth is mine! They would not even permit me to gather up my clothes! Bronn said they were his wife’s clothes now, all my s-silks and velvets.”
Your rags are the least of your concern. The queen pulled her fingers free of the other woman’s clammy grasp. “I asked you to snuff out a candle to help protect the king. Instead you heaved a pot of wildfire at it. Did your witless Balman bring my name into this? Tell me he did not.”
Falyse licked her lips. “He . . . he was in pain, his legs were broken. Bronn said he would show him mercy, but . . . What will happen to my poor m-m-mother?”
I imagine she will die. “What do you think?” Lady Tanda might well be dead already. Bronn did not seem the sort of man who would expend101 much effort nursing an old woman with a broken hip.
“You have to help me. Where am I to go? What will I do?”
Perhaps you might wed16 Moon Boy, Cersei almost said. He is nigh as big a fool as your late husband. She could not risk a war on the very doorstep of King’s Landing, not now. “The silent sisters are always glad to welcome widows,” she said. “Theirs is a serene102 life, a life of prayer and contemplation and good works. They bring solace103 to the living and peace to the dead.” And they do not talk. She could not have the woman running about the Seven Kingdoms spreading dangerous tales.
Falyse was deaf to good sense. “All we did, we did in service to Your Grace. Proud to Be Faithful. You said . . .”
“I recall.” Cersei forced a smile. “You shall stay here with us, my lady, until such time as we find a way to win your castle back. Let me pour you another cup of wine. It will help you sleep. You are weary and sick of heart, that’s plain to see. My poor dear Falyse. That’s it, drink up.”
As her guest was working on the flagon, Cersei went to the door and called her maids. She told Dorcas to find Lord Qyburn for her and bring him here at once. Jocelyn Swyft she dispatched to the kitchens. “Bring bread and cheese, a meat pie and some apples. And wine. We have a thirst.”
Qyburn arrived before the food. Lady Falyse had put down three more cups by then, and was beginning to nod, though from time to time she would rouse and give another sob93. The queen took Qyburn aside and told him of Ser Balman’s folly104. “I cannot have Falyse spreading tales about the city. Her grief has made her witless. Do you still need women for your . . . work?”
“I do, Your Grace. The puppeteers105 are quite used up.”
“Take her and do with her as you will, then. But once she goes down into the black cells . . . need I say more?”
“No, Your Grace. I understand.”
“Good.” The queen donned her smile once again. “Sweet Falyse, Maester Qyburn’s here. He’ll help you rest.”
“Oh,” said Falyse vaguely106. “Oh, good.”
When the door closed behind them Cersei poured herself another cup of wine. “I am surrounded by enemies and imbeciles,” she said. She could not even trust to her own blood and kin12, nor Jaime, who had once been her other half. He was meant to be my sword and shield, my strong right arm. Why does he insist on vexing107 me?
Bronn was no more than an annoyance108, to be sure. She had never truly believed that he was harboring the Imp96. Her twisted little brother was too clever to allow Lollys to name her wretched ill-begotten bastard after him, knowing it was sure to draw the queen’s wroth down upon her. Lady Merryweather had pointed that out, and she was right. The mockery was almost certainly the sellsword’s doing. She could picture him watching his wrinkled red stepson sucking on one of Lollys’s swollen dugs, a cup of wine in his hand and an insolent smile on his face. Grin all you wish, Ser Bronn, you’ll be screaming soon enough. Enjoy your lackwit lady and your stolen castle whilst you can. When the time comes, I shall swat you as if you were a fly. Perhaps she would send Loras Tyrell to do the swatting, if the Knight of Flowers should somehow return alive from Dragonstone. That would be delicious. If the gods were good, each of them would kill the other, like Ser Arryk and Ser Erryk. As for Stokeworth . . . no, she was sick of thinking about Stokeworth.
Taena had drifted back to sleep by the time the queen returned to the bedchamber, her head spinning. Too much wine and too little sleep, she told herself. It was not every night that she was awakened110 twice with such desperate tidings. At least I could awaken109. Robert would have been too drunk to rise, let alone rule. It would have fallen to Jon Arryn to deal with all of this. It pleased her to think that she made a better king than Robert.
The sky outside the window was already beginning to lighten. Cersei sat on the bed beside Lady Merryweather, listening to her soft breathing, watching her breasts rise and fall. Does she dream of Myr? she wondered. Or is it her lover with the scar, the dangerous dark-haired man who would not be refused? She was quite certain Taena was not dreaming of Lord Orton.
Cersei cupped the other woman’s breast. Softly at first, hardly touching111, feeling the warmth of it beneath her palm, the skin as smooth as satin. She gave it a gentle squeeze, then ran her thumbnail lightly across the big dark nipple, back and forth112 and back and forth until she felt it stiffen113. When she glanced up, Taena’s eyes were open. “Does that feel good?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Lady Merryweather.
“And this?” Cersei pinched the nipple now, pulling on it hard, twisting it between her fingers.
The Myrish woman gave a gasp38 of pain. “You’re hurting me.”
“It’s just the wine. I had a flagon with my supper, and another with the widow Stokeworth. I had to drink to keep her calm.” She twisted Taena’s other nipple too, pulling until the other woman gasped. “I am the queen. I mean to claim my rights.”
“Do what you will.” Taena’s hair was as black as Robert’s, even down between her legs, and when Cersei touched her there she found her hair all sopping114 wet, where Robert’s had been coarse and dry. “Please,” the Myrish woman said, “go on, my queen. Do as you will with me. I’m yours.”
But it was no good. She could not feel it, whatever Robert felt on the nights he took her. There was no pleasure in it, not for her. For Taena, yes. Her nipples were two black diamonds, her sex slick and steamy. Robert would have loved you, for an hour. The queen slid a finger into that Myrish swamp, then another, moving them in and out, but once he spent himself inside you, he would have been hard-pressed to recall your name.
She wanted to see if it would be as easy with a woman as it had always been with Robert. Ten thousand of your children perished in my palm, Your Grace, she thought, slipping a third finger into Myr. Whilst you snored, I would lick your sons off my face and fingers one by one, all those pale sticky princes. You claimed your rights, my lord, but in the darkness I would eat your heirs. Taena gave a dder. She gasped some words in a foreign tongue, then ddered again and arched her back and screamed. She sounds as if she is being gored115, the queen thought. For a moment she let herself imagine that her fingers were a bore’s tusks116, ripping the Myrish woman apart from groin to throat.
It was still no good.
It had never been any good with anyone but Jaime.
When she tried to take her hand away, Taena caught it and kissed her fingers. “Sweet queen, how shall I pleasure you?” She slid her hand down Cersei’s side and touched her sex. “Tell me what you would have of me, my love.”
“Leave me.” Cersei rolled away and pulled up the bedclothes to cover herself, shivering. Dawn was breaking. It would be morning soon, and all of this would be forgotten.
It had never happened.
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1
hip
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| n.臀部，髋；屋脊 | |
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2
itched
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| v.发痒( itch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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3
wheezing
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| v.喘息，发出呼哧呼哧的喘息声( wheeze的现在分词 )；哮鸣 | |
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4
puffing
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| v.使喷出( puff的现在分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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5
foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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6
halfway
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| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
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7
rumpled
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| v.弄皱，使凌乱( rumple的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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8
albeit
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| conj.即使；纵使；虽然 | |
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9
knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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10
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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11
arbor
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| n.凉亭；树木 | |
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12
kin
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| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
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13
mightiest
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| adj.趾高气扬( mighty的最高级 )；巨大的；强有力的；浩瀚的 | |
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14
warship
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| n.军舰，战舰 | |
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15
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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16
wed
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| v.娶，嫁，与…结婚 | |
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17
galleys
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| n.平底大船，战舰( galley的名词复数 )；（船上或航空器上的）厨房 | |
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18
warships
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| 军舰，战舰( warship的名词复数 )； 舰只 | |
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19
lesser
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| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
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20
scoured
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| 走遍（某地）搜寻（人或物）( scour的过去式和过去分词 )； （用力）刷； 擦净； 擦亮 | |
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21
isles
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| 岛( isle的名词复数 ) | |
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22
skulls
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| 颅骨( skull的名词复数 )； 脑袋； 脑子； 脑瓜 | |
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23
emboldened
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| v.鼓励，使有胆量( embolden的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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24
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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25
gorge
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| n.咽喉，胃，暴食，山峡；v.塞饱，狼吞虎咽地吃 | |
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26
plunder
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| vt.劫掠财物，掠夺；n.劫掠物，赃物；劫掠 | |
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27
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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28
slain
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| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去分词 )； (slay的过去分词) | |
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29
mace
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| n.狼牙棒，豆蔻干皮 | |
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30
defense
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| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
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31
swooping
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| 俯冲，猛冲( swoop的现在分词 ) | |
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32
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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33
ploy
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| n.花招，手段 | |
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34
hacked
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| 生气 | |
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35
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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36
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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37
presumption
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| n.推测，可能性，冒昧，放肆，[法律]推定 | |
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38
gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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39
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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40
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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41
vassals
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| n.奴仆( vassal的名词复数 )；（封建时代）诸侯；从属者；下属 | |
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42
barges
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| 驳船( barge的名词复数 ) | |
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43
insolent
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| adj.傲慢的，无理的 | |
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44
bristled
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| adj. 直立的，多刺毛的 动词bristle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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45
submission
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| n.服从，投降；温顺，谦虚；提出 | |
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46
stark
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| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
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47
divulge
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| v.泄漏(秘密等)；宣布，公布 | |
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48
gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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49
puffed
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| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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50
fraught
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| adj.充满…的，伴有(危险等)的；忧虑的 | |
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51
peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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52
bastard
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| n.坏蛋，混蛋；私生子 | |
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53
killer
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| n.杀人者，杀人犯，杀手，屠杀者 | |
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54
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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55
mused
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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56
lust
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| n.性(淫)欲；渴(欲)望；vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
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57
lusts
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| 贪求（lust的第三人称单数形式） | |
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58
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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59
tarnishes
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| 污点，瑕疵，无光泽( tarnish的名词复数 ) | |
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60
sag
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| v.下垂，下跌，消沉；n.下垂，下跌，凹陷，[航海]随风漂流 | |
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61
sagging
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| 下垂[沉，陷]，松垂，垂度 | |
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62
valor
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| n.勇气，英勇 | |
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63
serpentine
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| adj.蜿蜒的，弯曲的 | |
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64
gaping
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| adj.口的；张口的；敞口的；多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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65
babbling
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| n.胡说，婴儿发出的咿哑声adj.胡说的v.喋喋不休( babble的现在分词 )；作潺潺声（如流水）；含糊不清地说话；泄漏秘密 | |
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66
spiked
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| adj.有穗的；成锥形的；有尖顶的 | |
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67
paragon
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| n.模范，典型 | |
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68
puddle
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| n.(雨)水坑，泥潭 | |
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69
knights
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| 骑士； （中古时代的）武士( knight的名词复数 )； 骑士； 爵士； （国际象棋中）马 | |
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70
sneaks
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| abbr.sneakers (tennis shoes) 胶底运动鞋（网球鞋）v.潜行( sneak的第三人称单数 )；偷偷溜走；（儿童向成人）打小报告；告状 | |
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71
vapid
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| adj.无味的；无生气的 | |
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72
bowels
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| n.肠，内脏，内部；肠( bowel的名词复数 )；内部，最深处 | |
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73
canopy
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| n.天篷，遮篷 | |
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74
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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75
tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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76
valiant
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| adj.勇敢的，英勇的；n.勇士，勇敢的人 | |
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77
garrulous
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| adj.唠叨的，多话的 | |
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78
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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79
stinking
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| adj.臭的，烂醉的，讨厌的v.散发出恶臭( stink的现在分词 )；发臭味；名声臭；糟透 | |
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80
grunting
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| 咕哝的，呼噜的 | |
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81
thighs
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| n.股，大腿( thigh的名词复数 )；食用的鸡（等的）腿 | |
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82
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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83
plowing
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| v.耕( plow的现在分词 )；犁耕；费力穿过 | |
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84
unfamiliar
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| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
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85
sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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86
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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87
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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88
slaughtered
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| v.屠杀，杀戮，屠宰( slaughter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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89
demurred
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| v.表示异议，反对( demur的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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90
bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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91
swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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92
ushered
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| v.引，领，陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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93
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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94
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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95
coax
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| v.哄诱，劝诱，用诱哄得到，诱取 | |
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96
imp
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| n.顽童 | |
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97
awry
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| adj.扭曲的，错的 | |
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98
mishap
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| n.不幸的事，不幸；灾祸 | |
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99
dagger
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| n.匕首，短剑，剑号 | |
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100
insolence
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| n.傲慢；无礼；厚颜；傲慢的态度 | |
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101
expend
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| vt.花费，消费，消耗 | |
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102
serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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103
solace
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| n.安慰；v.使快乐；vt.安慰(物)，缓和 | |
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104
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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105
puppeteers
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| n.操纵木偶的人，操纵傀儡( puppeteer的名词复数 ) | |
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106
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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107
vexing
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| adj.使人烦恼的，使人恼火的v.使烦恼( vex的现在分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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108
annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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109
awaken
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| vi.醒，觉醒；vt.唤醒，使觉醒，唤起，激起 | |
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110
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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111
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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112
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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113
stiffen
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| v.(使)硬，(使)变挺，(使)变僵硬 | |
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114
sopping
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| adj. 浑身湿透的 动词sop的现在分词形式 | |
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115
gored
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| v.（动物）用角撞伤，用牙刺破( gore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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116
tusks
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| n.（象等动物的）长牙( tusk的名词复数 )；獠牙；尖形物；尖头 | |
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