A Game of Thrones 4-Book Bundle

the stone had fallen out.
    A sudden terror filled her. Her heart hammered against her ribs, and for an instant she held her breath.
Why am I so scared, it’s only an amethyst, a black amethyst from Asshai, no more than that. It must have been loose in the setting, that’s all. It was loose and it fell out, and now it’s lying somewhere in the throne room, or in the yard, unless . . .
    Ser Dontos had said the hair net was magic, that it would take her home. He told her she must wear it tonight at Joffrey’s wedding feast. The silver wire stretched tight across her knuckles. Her thumb rubbed back and forth against the hole where the stone had been. She tried to stop, but her fingers were not her own. Her thumb was drawn to the hole as the tongue is drawn to a missing tooth.
What kind of magic?
The king was dead, the cruel king who had been her gallant prince a thousand years ago. If Dontos had lied about the hair net, had he lied about the rest as well?
What if he never comes? What if there is no ship, no boat on the river, no escape?
What would happen to her then?
    She heard a faint rustle of leaves, and stuffed the silver hair net down deep in the pocket of her cloak. “Who’s there?” she cried. “Who is it?” The godswood was dim and dark, and the bells were ringing Joff into his grave.
    â€œMe.” He staggered out from under the trees, reeling drunk. He caught her arm to steady himself. “Sweet Jonquil, I’ve come. Your Florian has come, don’t be afraid.”
    Sansa pulled away from his touch. “You said I must wear the hair net. The silver net with . . . what sort of stones are those?”
    â€œAmethysts. Black amethysts from Asshai, my lady.”
    â€œThey’re no amethysts. Are they?
Are they?
You lied.”
    â€œBlack amethysts,” he swore. “There was magic in them.”
    â€œThere was
murder
in them!”
    â€œSoftly, my lady, softly. No murder. He choked on his pigeon pie.” Dontos chortled. “Oh, tasty tasty pie. Silver and stones, that’s all it was, silver and stone and magic.”
    The bells were tolling, and the wind was making a noise like
he
had made as he tried to suck a breath of air. “You poisoned him. You did. You took a stone from my hair . . .”
    â€œHush, you’ll be the death of us. I did nothing. Come, we must away, they’ll search for you. Your husband’s been arrested.”
    â€œTyrion?” she said, shocked.
    â€œDo you have another husband? The Imp, the dwarf uncle, she thinks he did it.” He grabbed her hand and pulled at her. “This way, we must away, quickly now, have no fear.”
    Sansa followed unresisting.
I could never abide the weeping of women
, Joff once said, but his mother was the only woman weeping now. In Old Nan’s stories the grumkins crafted magic things that could make a wish come true.
Did I wish him dead?
she wondered, before she remembered that she was too old to believe in grumkins. “
Tyrion
poisoned him?” Her dwarf husband had hated his nephew, she knew. Could he truly have killed him?
Did he know about my hair net, about the black amethysts? He brought Joff wine
. How could you make someone choke by putting an amethyst in their wine?
If Tyrion did it, they will think I was part of it as well
, she realized with a start of fear. How not? They were man and wife, and Joff had killed her father and mocked her with her brother’s death.
One flesh, one heart, one soul
.
    â€œBe quiet now, my sweetling,” said Dontos. “Outside the godswood, we must make no sound. Pull up your hood and hide your face.” Sansa nodded, and did as he said.
    He was so drunk that sometimes Sansa had to lend him her arm to keep him from falling. The bells were ringing out across the city, more and more of them joining in. She kept her head down and stayed in the shadows, close behind Dontos. While descending the serpentine steps he stumbled to his knees and retched.
My poor Florian
, she thought, as he wiped his mouth with a floppy sleeve.
Dress dark
, he’d said, yet under his brown hooded cloak he was wearing his old surcoat; red and pink horizontal stripes beneath a black chief bearing three gold crowns, the arms of House Hollard. “Why are you wearing your surcoat? Joff decreed it was death if you were caught dressed as a knight again, he . . . oh . . .” Nothing Joff had decreed mattered any longer.
    â€œI