A Game of Thrones 4-Book Bundle

their marks on her. She was short, squat, and warty, with pebbly greenish jowls. Her teeth were gone and her dugs hung down to her knees. You could smell sickness on her if you stood too close, and when she spoke her breath was strange and strong and foul. “Begone,” she told the girls, in a croaking whisper.
    â€œWe came for a foretelling,” young Cersei told her.
    â€œBegone,” croaked the old woman, a second time.
    â€œWe heard that you can see into the morrow,” said Melara. “We just want to know what men we’re going to marry.”
    â€œBegone,” croaked Maggy, a third time.
    Listen to her,
the queen would have cried if she had her tongue.
You still have time to flee. Run, you little fools!
    The girl with the golden curls put her hands upon her hips. “Give us our foretelling, or I’ll go to my lord father and have you whipped for insolence.”
    â€œPlease,” begged Melara. “Just tell us our futures, then we’ll go.”
    â€œSome are here who have no futures,” Maggy muttered in her terrible deep voice. She pulled her robe about her shoulders and beckoned the girls closer. “Come, if you will not go. Fools. Come, yes. I must taste your blood.”
    Melara paled, but not Cersei. A lioness does not fear a frog, no matter how old and ugly she might be. She should have gone, she should have listened, she should have run away. Instead she took the dagger Maggy offered her, and ran the twisted iron blade across the ball of her thumb. Then she did Melara too.
    In the dim green tent, the blood seemed more black than red. Maggy’s toothless mouth trembled at the sight of it. “Here,” she whispered, “give it here.” When Cersei offered her hand, she sucked away the blood with gums as soft as a newborn babe’s. The queen could still remember how queer and cold her mouth had been.
    â€œThree questions may you ask,” the crone said, once she’d had her drink. “You will not like my answers. Ask, or begone with you.”
    Go,
the dreaming queen thought,
hold your tongue, and flee.
But the girl did not have sense enough to be afraid.
    â€œWhen will I wed the prince?” she asked.
    â€œNever. You will wed the king.”
    Beneath her golden curls, the girl’s face wrinkled up in puzzlement. For years after, she took those words to mean that she would not marry Rhaegar until after his father Aerys had died. “I
will
be queen, though?” asked the younger her.
    â€œAye.” Malice gleamed in Maggy’s yellow eyes. “Queen you shall be . . . until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all that you hold dear.”
    Anger flashed across the child’s face. “If she tries I will have my brother kill her.” Even then she would not stop, willful child as she was. She still had one more question due her, one more glimpse into her life to come. “Will the king and I have children?” she asked.
    â€œOh, aye. Six-and-ten for him, and three for you.”
    That made no sense to Cersei. Her thumb was throbbing where she’d cut it, and her blood was dripping on the carpet.
How could that be?
she wanted to ask, but she was done with her questions.
    The old woman was not done with her, however. “Gold shall be their crowns and gold their shrouds,” she said. “And when your tears have drowned you, the
valonqar
shall wrap his hands about your pale white throat and choke the life from you.”
    â€œWhat is a
valonqar
? Some monster?” The golden girl did not like that foretelling. “You’re a liar and a warty frog and a smelly old savage, and I don’t believe a word of what you say. Come away, Melara. She is not worth hearing.”
    â€œI get three questions too,” her friend insisted. And when Cersei tugged upon her arm, she wriggled free and turned back to the crone. “Will I marry Jaime?” she blurted out.
    You stupid girl,
the queen thought, angry even now.
Jaime does not even know you are alive.
Back then her brother lived only for swords and dogs and horses . . . and for her, his twin.
    â€œNot Jaime, nor any other man,” said Maggy. “Worms will have your maidenhead. Your death is here tonight, little one. Can you smell her breath? She is very close.”
    â€œThe only breath we smell is yours,” said Cersei. There was a jar of some thick potion by her elbow,