A Game of Thrones 4-Book Bundle

guilty,” suggested Lady Merryweather. “Why, it might well be that one of them took no part. If she was shamed and sickened by the things she saw . . .”
    â€œ. . . she might be persuaded to bear witness against the others. Yes, very good, but which one is the innocent?”
    â€œAlla.”
    â€œThe shy one?”
    â€œSo she seems, but there is more of
sly
than
shy
in her. Leave her to me, my sweet.”
    â€œGladly.” Alone, the Blue Bard’s confession would never suffice. Singers lied for their living, after all. Alla Tyrell would be of great help, if Taena could deliver her. “Ser Osney shall confess as well. The others must be made to understand that only through confession can they earn the king’s forgiveness, and the Wall.” Jalabhar Xho would find the truth attractive. About the rest she was less certain, but Qyburn was persuasive . . .
    Dawn was breaking over King’s Landing when they climbed from the tub. The queen’s skin was white and wrinkled from her long immersion. “Stay with me,” she told Taena. “I do not want to sleep alone.” She even said a prayer before she crawled beneath her coverlet, beseeching the Mother for sweet dreams.
    It proved a waste of breath; as ever, the gods were deaf. Cersei dreamt that she was down in the black cells once again, only this time it was her chained to the wall in place of the singer. She was naked, and blood dripped from the tips of her breasts where the Imp had torn off her nipples with his teeth. “Please,” she begged, “please, not my children, do not harm my children.” Tyrion only leered at her. He was naked too, covered with coarse hair that made him look more like a monkey than a man. “You shall see them crowned,” he said, “and you shall see them die.” Then he took her bleeding breast into his mouth and began to suck, and pain sawed through her like a hot knife.
    She woke shuddering in Taena’s arms. “A bad dream,” she said weakly. “Did I scream? I’m sorry.”
    â€œDreams turn to dust in light of day. Was it the dwarf again? Why does he frighten you so, this silly little man?”
    â€œHe is going to kill me. It was foreseen when I was ten. I wanted to know who I would marry, but she said . . .”
    â€œShe?”
    â€œThe
maegi.
” The words came tumbling out of her. She could still hear Melara Hetherspoon insisting that if they never spoke about the prophecies, they would not come true.
She was not so silent in the well, though. She screamed and shouted.
“Tyrion is the
valonqar,
” she said. “Do you use that word in Myr? It’s High Valyrian, it means
little brother.
” She had asked Septa Saranella about the word, after Melara drowned.
    Taena took her hand and stroked it. “This was a hateful woman, old and sick and ugly. You were young and beautiful, full of life and pride. She lived in Lannisport, you said, so she would have known of the dwarf and how he killed your lady mother. This creature dared not strike you, because of who you were, so she sought to wound you with her viper’s tongue.”
    Could it be?
Cersei wanted to believe it. “Melara died, though, just as she foretold. I never wed Prince Rhaegar. And Joffrey . . . the dwarf killed my son before my eyes.”
    â€œOne son,” said Lady Merryweather, “but you have another, sweet and strong, and no harm will ever come to
him
.”
    â€œNever, whilst I live.” Saying it helped her believe that it was so.
Dreams turn to dust in light of day, yes.
Outside the morning sun was shining through a haze of cloud. Cersei slipped out from under the blankets. “I will break my fast with the king this morning. I want to see my son.”
All I do, I do for him.
    Tommen helped restore her to herself. He had never been more precious to her than he was that morning, chattering about his kittens as he dribbled honey onto a chunk of hot black bread fresh from the ovens. “Ser Pounce caught a mouse,” he told her, “but Lady Whiskers stole it from him.”
    I was never so sweet and innocent,
Cersei thought.
How can he ever hope to rule in this cruel realm?
The mother in her wanted only to protect him; the queen in her knew he must grow harder, or the Iron Throne was certain to devour him. “Ser Pounce must learn to defend his rights,” she told him. “In this world the weak are