A Dance With Dragons

have that too, Radiance. Your wish is my command. Best tell your seneschal to begin making preparations for our wedding.”
    “Nothing would please the noble Reznak more.” If Meereen knew that a wedding was in the offing, that alone might buy her a few nights’ respite, even if Hizdahr’s efforts came to naught. The Shavepate will not be happy with me, but Reznak mo Reznak will dance for joy. Dany did not know which of those concerned her more. She needed Skahaz and the Brazen Beasts, and she had come to mistrust all of Reznak’s counsel. Beware the perfumed seneschal. Has Reznak made common cause with Hizdahr and the Green Grace and set some trap to snare me?
    No sooner had Hizdahr zo Loraq taken his leave of her than Ser Barristan appeared behind her in his long white cloak. Years of service in the Kingsguard had taught the white knight how to remain unobtrusive when she was entertaining, but he was never far. He knows, she saw at once, and he disapproves. The lines around his mouth had deepened. “So,” she said to him, “it seems that I may wed again. Are you happy for me, ser?”
    “If that is your command, Your Grace.”
    “Hizdahr is not the husband you would have chosen for me.”
    “It is not my place to choose your husband.”
    “It is not,” she agreed, “but it is important to me that you should understand. My people are bleeding. Dying. A queen belongs not to herself, but to the realm. Marriage or carnage, those are my choices. A wedding or a war.”
    “Your Grace, may I speak frankly?”
    “Always.”
    “There is a third choice.”
    “Westeros?”
    He nodded. “I am sworn to serve Your Grace, and to keep you safe from harm wherever you may go. My place is by your side, whether here or in King’s Landing … but your place is back in Westeros, upon the Iron Throne that was your father’s. The Seven Kingdoms will never accept Hizdahr zo Loraq as king.”
    “No more than Meereen will accept Daenerys Targaryen as queen. The Green Grace has the right of that. I need a king beside me, a king of old Ghiscari blood. Elsewise they will always see me as the uncouth barbarian who smashed through their gates, impaled their kin on spikes, and stole their wealth.”
    “In Westeros you will be the lost child who returns to gladden her father’s heart. Your people will cheer when you ride by, and all good men will love you.”
    “Westeros is far away.”
    “Lingering here will never bring it any closer. The sooner we take our leave of this place—”
    “I know. I do. ” Dany did not know how to make him see. She wanted Westeros as much as he did, but first she must heal Meereen. “Ninety days is a long time. Hizdahr may fail. And if he does, the trying buys me time. Time to make alliances, to strengthen my defenses, to—”
    “And if he does not fail? What will Your Grace do then?”
    “Her duty.” The word felt cold upon her tongue. “You saw my brother Rhaegar wed. Tell me, did he wed for love or duty?”
    The old knight hesitated. “Princess Elia was a good woman, Your Grace. She was kind and clever, with a gentle heart and a sweet wit. I know the prince was very fond of her.”
    Fond, thought Dany. The word spoke volumes. I could become fond of Hizdahr zo Loraq, in time. Perhaps.
    Ser Barristan went on. “I saw your father and your mother wed as well. Forgive me, but there was no fondness there, and the realm paid dearly for that, my queen.”
    “Why did they wed if they did not love each other?”
    “Your grandsire commanded it. A woods witch had told him that the prince was promised would be born of their line.”
    “A woods witch?” Dany was astonished. “She came to court with Jenny of Oldstones. A stunted thing, grotesque to look upon. A dwarf, most people said, though dear to Lady Jenny, who always claimed that she was one of the children of the forest.”
    “What became of her?”
    “Summerhall.” The word was fraught with doom.
    Dany sighed. “Leave me now. I am very weary.”
    “As you command.” Ser Barristan bowed and turned to go. But at the door, he stopped. “Forgive me. Your Grace has a visitor. Shall I tell him to return upon the morrow?”
    “Who is it?”
    “Naharis. The Stormcrows have returned to the city.”
    Daario. Her heart gave a flutter in her chest. “How long has … when did he … ?” She could not seem to get the words out.
    Ser Barristan seemed to understand. “Your Grace was with the priestess when he arrived. I knew you would