A Feast for Dragons

loudly to her lap … for Tytos Lannister’s
ear was between his lady’s legs. She had even taken to wearing their mother’s
jewels.
    Until the day their lord father’s heart had burst in his
chest as he was ascending a steep flight of steps to her bed, that is. All the
self-seekers who had named themselves her friends and cultivated her favor had
abandoned her quickly enough when Tywin had her stripped naked and paraded
through Lannisport to the docks, like a common whore. Though no man laid a hand
on her, that walk spelled the end of her power. Surely Tywin would never have
dreamed that same fate awaited his own golden daughter.
    “It had to be,” Ser Kevan muttered over the last of his
wine. His High Holiness had to be appeased. Tommen needed the Faith behind him
in the battles to come. And Cersei … the golden child had grown into
a vain, foolish, greedy woman. Left to rule, she would have ruined Tommen as
she had Joffrey.
    Outside the wind was rising, clawing at the shutters of his
chamber. Ser Kevan pushed himself to his feet. Time to face the lioness in her
den.
We have pulled her claws. Jaime, though …
But no, he
would not brood on that.
    He donned an old, well-worn doublet, in case his niece had a
mind to throw another cup of wine in his face, but he left his sword belt
hanging on the back of his chair. Only the knights of the Kingsguard were
permitted swords in Tommen’s presence.
    Ser Boros Blount was in attendance on the boy king and his
mother when Ser Kevan entered the royal chambers. Blount wore enameled scale,
white cloak, and halfhelm. He did not look well. Of late Boros had grown
notably heavier about the face and belly, and his color was not good. And he
was leaning against the wall behind him, as if standing had become too great an
effort for him.
    The meal was served by three novices, well-scrubbed girls of
good birth between the ages of twelve and sixteen. In their soft white woolens,
each seemed more innocent and unworldly than the last, yet the High Septon had
insisted that no girl spend more than seven days in the queen’s service, lest
Cersei corrupt her. They tended the queen’s wardrobe, drew her bath, poured her
wine, changed her bedclothes of a morning. One shared the queen’s bed every
night, to ascertain she had no other company; the other two slept in an adjoining
chamber with the septa who looked over them.
    A tall stork of a girl with a pockmarked face escorted him
into the royal presence. Cersei rose when he entered and kissed him lightly on
the cheek. “Dear uncle. It is so good of you to sup with us.” The queen was
dressed as modestly as any matron, in a dark brown gown that buttoned up to her
throat and a hooded green mantle that covered her shaved head.
Before
her walk she would have flaunted her baldness beneath a golden crown
.
“Come, sit,” she said. “Will you have wine?”
    “A cup.” He sat, still wary.
    A freckled novice filled their cups with hot spiced wine.
“Tommen tells me that Lord Tyrell intends to rebuild the Tower of the Hand,”
Cersei said.
    Ser Kevan nodded. “The new tower will be twice as tall as the
one you burned, he says.”
    Cersei gave a throaty laugh. “Long lances, tall
towers … is Lord Tyrell hinting at something?”
    That made him smile.
It is good that she still
remembers how to laugh
. When he asked if she had all that she
required, the queen said, “I am well served. The girls are sweet, and the good
septas make certain that I say my prayers. But once my innocence is proved, it
would please me if Taena Merryweather might attend me once again. She could
bring her son to court. Tommen needs other boys about him, friends of noble
birth.”
    It was a modest request. Ser Kevan saw no reason why it
should not be granted. He could foster the Merryweather boy himself, whilst
Lady Taena accompanied Cersei back to Casterly Rock. “I will send for her after
the trial,” he promised.
    Supper began with beef-and-barley soup, followed by a brace
of quail and a roast pike near three feet long, with turnips, mushrooms, and
plenty of hot bread and butter. Ser Boros tasted every dish that was set before
the king. A humiliating duty for a knight of the Kingsguard, but perhaps all
Blount was capable of these days … and wise, after the way Tommen’s
brother had died.
    The king seemed happier than Kevan Lannister had seen him in
a long time. From soup to sweet Tommen burbled about the exploits of his
kittens, whilst feeding