A Feast for Dragons

your Hand,” Ser
Kevan admitted, “but a bigger fool to make him your foe. I’ve heard what
happened in the Hall of Lamps. Mace should have known better than to broach
such matters in public, but even so, you were unwise to shame him in front of
half the court.”
    “Better that than suffer another Tyrell on the council.” His
reproach annoyed her. “Rosby will make an adequate master of coin. You’ve seen
that litter of his, with its carvings and silk draperies. His horses are better
dressed than most knights. A man that rich should have no problem finding gold.
As for Handship . . . who better to finish my father’s work than the brother
who shared all his counsels?”
    “Every man needs someone he can trust. Tywin had me, and
once your mother.”
    “He loved her very much.” Cersei refused to think about the
dead whore in his bed. “I know they are together now.”
    “So I pray.” Ser Kevan studied her face for a long moment
before he replied. “You ask much of me, Cersei.”
    “No more than my father did.”
    “I am tired.” Her uncle reached for his wine cup and took a
swallow. “I have a wife I have not seen in two years, a dead son to mourn,
another son about to marry and assume a lordship. Castle Darry must be made
strong again, its lands protected, its burned fields plowed and planted anew.
Lancel needs my help.”
    “As does Tommen.” Cersei had not expected Kevan to require
coaxing. He never played coy with Father. “The realm needs you.”
    “The realm. Aye. And House Lannister.” He sipped his wine again.
“Very well. I will remain and serve His Grace . . .”
    “Very good,” she started to say, but Ser Kevan raised his
voice and bulled right over her.
    “. . . so long as you name me regent as well as Hand and
take yourself back to Casterly Rock.”
    For half a heartbeat Cersei could only stare at him. “ I am the regent,” she reminded him.
    “You were. Tywin did not intend that you continue in that
role. He told me of his plans to send you back to the Rock and find a new
husband for you.”
    Cersei could feel her anger rising. “He spoke of such, yes.
And I told him it was not my wish to wed again.”
    Her uncle was unmoved. “If you are resolved against another
marriage, I will not force it on you. As to the other, though . . . you are the
Lady of Casterly Rock now. Your place is there.”
    How dare you? she wanted to scream. Instead, she
said, “I am also the Queen Regent. My place is with my son.”
    “Your father thought not.”
    “My father is dead.”
    “To my grief, and the woe of all the realm. Open your eyes
and look about you, Cersei. The kingdom is in ruins. Tywin might have been able
to set matters aright, but . . .”
    “ I shall set matters aright!” Cersei softened her
tone. “With your help, Uncle. If you will serve me as faithfully as you served
my father—”
    “You are not your father. And Tywin always regarded Jaime as
his rightful heir.”
    “ Jaime . . . Jaime has taken vows. Jaime never
thinks, he laughs at everything and everyone and says whatever comes into his
head. Jaime is a handsome fool.”
    “And yet he was your first choice to be the King’s Hand.
What does that make you, Cersei?”
    “I told you, I was sick with grief, I did not think—”
    “No,” Ser Kevan agreed. “Which is why you should return to
Casterly Rock and leave the king with those who do.”
    “The king is my son!” Cersei rose to her feet.
    “Aye,” her uncle said, “and from what I saw of Joffrey, you
are as unfit a mother as you are a ruler.”
    She threw the contents of her wine cup full in his face.
    Ser Kevan rose with a ponderous dignity. “Your Grace.” Wine
trickled down his cheeks and dripped from his close-cropped beard. “With your
leave, might I withdraw?”
    “By what right do you presume to give me terms? You
are no more than one of my father’s household knights.”
    “I hold no lands, that is true. But I have certain incomes,
and chests of coin set aside. My own father forgot none of his children when he
died, and Tywin knew how to reward good service. I feed two hundred knights and
can double that number if need be. There are freeriders who will follow my
banner, and I have the gold to hire sellswords. You would be wise not to take
me lightly, Your Grace . . . and wiser still not to make of me a foe.”
    “Are you threatening me?”
    “I am counseling you. If you will not yield the regency to
me, name me your castellan for