A Game of Thrones 4-Book Bundle

sleep. You are weary and sick of heart, that’s plain to see. My poor dear Falyse. That’s it, drink up.”
    As her guest was working on the flagon, Cersei went to the door and called her maids. She told Dorcas to find Lord Qyburn for her and bring him here at once. Jocelyn Swyft she dispatched to the kitchens. “Bring bread and cheese, a meat pie and some apples. And wine. We have a thirst.”
    Qyburn arrived before the food. Lady Falyse had put down three more cups by then, and was beginning to nod, though from time to time she would rouse and give another sob. The queen took Qyburn aside and told him of Ser Balman’s folly. “I cannot have Falyse spreading tales about the city. Her grief has made her witless. Do you still need women for your . . . work?”
    â€œI do, Your Grace. The puppeteers are quite used up.”
    â€œTake her and do with her as you will, then. But once she goes down into the black cells . . . need I say more?”
    â€œNo, Your Grace. I understand.”
    â€œGood.” The queen donned her smile once again. “Sweet Falyse, Maester Qyburn’s here. He’ll help you rest.”
    â€œOh,” said Falyse vaguely. “Oh, good.”
    When the door closed behind them Cersei poured herself another cup of wine. “I am surrounded by enemies and imbeciles,” she said. She could not even trust to her own blood and kin, nor Jaime, who had once been her other half.
He was meant to be my sword and shield, my strong right arm. Why does he insist on vexing me?
    Bronn was no more than an annoyance, to be sure. She had never truly believed that he was harboring the Imp. Her twisted little brother was too clever to allow Lollys to name her wretched ill-begotten bastard after him, knowing it was sure to draw the queen’s wroth down upon her. Lady Merryweather had pointed that out, and she was right. The mockery was almost certainly the sellsword’s doing. She could picture him watching his wrinkled red stepson sucking on one of Lollys’s swollen dugs, a cup of wine in his hand and an insolent smile on his face.
Grin all you wish, Ser Bronn, you’ll be screaming soon enough. Enjoy your lackwit lady and your stolen castle whilst you can. When the time comes, I shall swat you as if you were a fly.
Perhaps she would send Loras Tyrell to do the swatting, if the Knight of Flowers should somehow return alive from Dragonstone.
That would be delicious. If the gods were good, each of them would kill the other, like Ser Arryk and Ser Erryk.
As for Stokeworth . . . no, she was sick of thinking about Stokeworth.
    Taena had drifted back to sleep by the time the queen returned to the bedchamber, her head spinning.
Too much wine and too little sleep,
she told herself. It was not every night that she was awakened twice with such desperate tidings.
At least I could awaken. Robert would have been too drunk to rise, let alone rule. It would have fallen to Jon Arryn to deal with all of this.
It pleased her to think that she made a better king than Robert.
    The sky outside the window was already beginning to lighten. Cersei sat on the bed beside Lady Merryweather, listening to her soft breathing, watching her breasts rise and fall.
Does she dream of Myr?
she wondered.
Or is it her lover with the scar, the dangerous dark-haired man who would not be refused?
She was quite certain Taena was not dreaming of Lord Orton.
    Cersei cupped the other woman’s breast. Softly at first, hardly touching, feeling the warmth of it beneath her palm, the skin as smooth as satin. She gave it a gentle squeeze, then ran her thumbnail lightly across the big dark nipple, back and forth and back and forth until she felt it stiffen. When she glanced up, Taena’s eyes were open. “Does that feel good?” she asked.
    â€œYes,” said Lady Merryweather.
    â€œAnd this?” Cersei pinched the nipple now, pulling on it hard, twisting it between her fingers.
    The Myrish woman gave a gasp of pain. “You’re hurting me.”
    â€œIt’s just the wine. I had a flagon with my supper, and another with the widow Stokeworth. I had to drink to keep her calm.” She twisted Taena’s other nipple too, pulling until the other woman gasped. “I am the queen. I mean to claim my rights.”
    â€œDo what you will.” Taena’s hair was as black as Robert’s, even down between her legs, and when Cersei touched her there she found her hair