Chapter 64: A Queen's Gambit

  —

  The ropes bit into my wrists as the Kingsguard shoved me forward.

  I kept my head down, the scratchy wool of the wig itg my scalp. It annoyed me, but I e. The crowd pressed close on all sides, fishmongers stinking of yesterday’s catch, washerwomen clutg baskets, merts pausing their haggling to gawk. Their whispers slithered around me like snakes.

  “Who’s that?”

  “Dunno, looks like an average cutthroat.”

  “Must be some big criminal if he’s being captured by King’s Guards personally.”

  They don't know who I am? I tuhem out, sing the sea of faces instead. I didn’t know if there was anybody inside ba the mansion. If there were, they would have e outside when I was getting captured. Where were they?

  I didn’t find them amid the crowd, either.

  No sign of Nymeria’s coiled braids or Tyene’s poiso smile. Kinvara’s crimson robes would’ve bzed like a signal fire in this drab mob.

  Had they been taken? Sughtered? My jaw tightened. Kinvara ’t possibly die, that wouldn't make sense.

  The only reason I hadn’t sughtered the two guards and floas so that I could make sure they were alright. That was why I let these fools drag me to the castle.

  A sharp gasp cut through the murmurs.

  My eyes flicked toward the source, and I found Ros standing frozen near a painting seller’s stall, one hand cmped over her mouth. The violet silk draped over her arm trembled, and she looked ready to break down into years.

  I shook my head once, a tiny motion, and smiled. Why's she panig so much? Stupid girl.

  She watched my gesture, then spun away, silk fluttering from her grip like a wounded bird.

  From the looks of it, from the crowd’s rea, news of me being the Ghost of Targaryen hadn’t spread.

  The guards going as far as tying my hands was a bad thing, but it didn’t necessarily mean that I was exposed. It could be because of something else.

  If not, then a whole army would have beeo me, not two King's Guard.

  “Move,” grunted Meryn Trant, prodding my ribs with the hilt of his sword. My eyes twitched. The uard was behind me as we asded the serpeeps to the Red Keep.

  Their armor reeked of lemon oil and arrogance, and I o myself to kill them wheime would e.

  Stone gargoyles were hanging from the vaulted ceilings as we marched past the throne room. It was empty.

  I half-expected Cersei Lano stage her little performahere, perched on that absurd chair of swords. But she nor her son resent here.

  The guards steered me toward the royal apartments instead, past artworks of dead stags and golden lions on the wall.

  A few mier, Meryn hammered his fist against an oak door banded with iron. “Yrace. We have the merary you asked for.”

  A beat of silence passed. My guess that it was Cersei who'd sent them after me was firmed immediately. I was starting to sider a different possibility behind this whole situation…

  “Send him in,” a reply came a short sed ter. “Alone.”

  Meryn exged gnces with the uard and shrugged. He pushed, and the door creaked open.

  Cold vender water flooded my senses as I crossed the threshold. Cersei’s private sanctuary, all Myrish d gilded mirrors. The guards didn’t follow.

  The door clicked shut behind me.

  I didn't flinch, the chamber. It reeked of Lannister gold—gilded mirrors catg the afternoon sun, Myrish carpets swallowing every footstep, windows taller than castle gates streaming light over damask drapes worth more than a lord’s ransom.

  My boots sank into the carpet’s plush weave as I took stock of the room. A carved mahogany table held crystal deters of wiheir ruby tents catg the light.

  More artworks depig lions mauling stags lihe walls. Typical.

  Her voice slithered across the room before I saw her. “Vis of the Sed Sons?”

  I turned.

  She lounged on a velvet divan aoward the hearth, one knee drawn up.

  A silk robe the color of freshly spilled blood pooled around her hips, barely ging to her shoulders. The fabric was sheer enough to silhouette the curve of her waist, and the pale swell of her breasts. She might as well have been that moment.

  A handmaide beside the couch, her head bowed as she smoothed oil over Cersei’s thigh—jasmine, sharp and cloying.

  The queen’s skin glistened uhe gze, damp blonde hair ging to her neck.

  “Yrace,” I greeted her with a smile.

  She smiled back. “You have been absent from the city, Vis,” she said, swirling wine in a golden goblet. Her eyes, poison-green, always measuring, went over my on clothes, the cheap wig itg my scalp. “Off pying hero in the North, hm?”

  …She suspects me. But that doesn't make sense. Why would she send only two guards if she suspected me? I was fused.

  I kept my face sck, shaking my head. “North? That's too far. I was simply hunting, Yrace. Boars near Kingswood. Got lost for a bit, but don't worry, I didn't actually go ihe forest.”

  A ugh, low and mog. “Boars. How thrilling. King Robert died to a boar.” The handmaiden’s fingers worked higher up her thigh, kneading the oil into milky skin. Cersei’s breath hitched, just barely, as if she was holding back a moan. It made my eyes twitch. “Tell me, sellsword. Did your hunt include stealing Stark girls from under my son’s nose?”

  She definitely knew.

  “Couldn’t say,” I shrugged. “Heard some ghost story about a silver-haired man with wings. Madness, if you ask me.”

  Her nails tapped against the goblet. The handmaiden’s thumb brushed the inner seam of Cersei’s thigh, and the queen bit back a moan. “Mm… Enough,” she said, voice tight. The girl froze. “Leave us. And, uh,” she lowered her voice, “tell the guards outside to find somewhere else to loiter.”

  The handmaiden’s cheeks flushed as she scrambled to her feet, clutg the oil jar to her chest. She scurried past me without raising her eyes, the dhing shut behind her.

  “By the way,” I ighe situation and started. “Where is Priestess Nyra? And my other panions.”

  Cersei took a long drink, wiaining her lips as she smiled. “Your priestess,” she said, nguid. “The red whore. Why ask about her? Pnning a prayer?”

  “Just polite .”

  “How dull.” She set the goblet down and leaned back, the robe slipping lower. This whore was testing my patiehey’re alive. For now. Though that oh the stoos has a mouth that needs… corre.”

  Nymeria. I flexed my fingers, holding my jaws back from tightening. “Generous of you to house my panions, Yrace.”

  “Generosity has nothing to do with it.” Cersei rose, silk whispering as it slid against her skin. “You’ve made quite the impression, Vis. The way they speak of you ireets—ghost, demon, king.” Her ugh was honeyed venom. “But here you are. Just a man. Tied.”

  She walked even closer, and the jasmine oil clogged my throat.

  She tilted her head, studying my face. “Take off that ridiculous wig.”

  "...Hands tied, Yrace," I said. "Why not help me?" I asked, and she stared. She reached up a moment ter and peeled the itchy thing away.

  My silver hair tumbled free, swaying in the air, framing my face as I looked down at her.

  Cersei’s lips parted. Not out of surprise. She was expeg this. Rather, there was hunger in her eyes. “Better.” Her firaced the line of my jaw. “Now we’re being ho.”

  “You really think I’m him?” My voice dropped, and the Targaryen ce slipped through as I tilted my head.

  Sunlight caught the silver strands of my hair, turning them to liquid mercury.

  Cersei’s tongue darted over wiained lips as she searched for her words. “The dragon cirg Winterfell. The Sand Snakes skulking through Flea Bottom. That red witch lighting fires in the Sept’s shadow.” Her ugh was a bde drawn slowly from its sheath. “You’re not the Seven’s idea of a cruel joke, sadly. I'd have preferred that, but you're not your brother, are you, Viserys Targaryen?

  I chuckled, dropping all the act. “Here I thought Varys’ little birds would’ve been the first oo find me. Not the dumb queen.”

  “Oh, I drowheir songs in honey.” She drifted closer, the robe gaping. “Gold for the Spider’s favorites. Whispers of Tyrell plots for Baelish’s whores. Children make suoise when you dangle oys. All of my attention was on you.”

  Her st, jasmine and poison, coiled around me as I let her circle, a lioness sizing up wounded prey.

  How hirious.

  “So all this,” I gestured to the empty chamber, the distant k of guards, “is your clever trap?”

  “Mm.” Her firailed down my bound wrist. “A lioness does love a good hunt.”

  “Yet here you stand,” I murmured, voice hard. “aloh a dragon.”

  She stiffened, blinking. For a heartbeat, fear flickered in those poison-pool eyes. Then she spun away with a scoff, silk hissing against her skin. “Your hands are tied, little dragon. You don't know where your stupid friends are, perhaps an inch away from execution, and thousands of guards surround you. Would you dare touch a hair on my head? One shout and—”

  A dagger materialized in my palm as the ropes fell sck. I moved faster than her breath—one hand snatg her throat, the other catg the falling goblet mid-air.

  It vanished into my [Iory] before it could ctter.

  “—and what, you dumb whore?” I shoved her face-first into the mattress, knee pressiween her shoulder bdes.

  “Yo-” A strip of linen appeared in my grip, jammed betweeeeth before she could scream. “Mmhmmmgh!”

  I grumbled, “You’ll die a million times before those fools outside blink, bitch.”

  She thrashed, muffled curses vibrating against the gag. My free hand yanked her hair, exposing the pale curve of her neck, my dagger trailing just one drop of blood.

  What a stupid little bitch.

  **

  **

  **