A Game of Thrones 4-Book Bundle

one has told him of your . . . your . . .”
    â€œ. . . difficulties?” she suggested. “What of Margaery?”
    â€œShe is to be tried as well, by the same court that conducts your trial. I had the Blue Bard delivered to the High Septon, as Your Grace commanded. He is here now, somewhere down below us. My whisperers tell me that they are whipping him, but so far he is still singing the same sweet song we taught him.”
    The same sweet song.
Her wits were dull for want of sleep.
Wat, his real name is Wat.
If the gods were good, Wat might die beneath the lash, leaving Margaery with no way to disprove his testimony. “Where are my knights? Ser Osfryd . . . the High Septon means to kill his brother Osney, his gold cloaks must . . .”
    â€œOsfryd Kettleblack no longer commands the City Watch. The king has removed him from office and raised the captain of the Dragon Gate in his place, a certain Humfrey Waters.”
    Cersei was so tired, none of this made any sense. “Why would Tommen do that?”
    â€œThe boy is not to blame. When his council puts a decree in front of him, he signs his name and stamps it with his seal.”
    â€œ
My
council . . . who? Who would do that? Not you?”
    â€œAlas, I have been dismissed from the council, although for the nonce they allow me to continue my work with the eunuch’s whisperers. The realm is being ruled by Ser Harys Swyft and Grand Maester Pycelle. They have dispatched a raven to Casterly Rock, inviting your uncle to return to court and assume the regency. If he means to accept, he had best make haste. Mace Tyrell has abandoned his siege of Storm’s End and is marching back to the city with his army, and Randyll Tarly is reported on his way down from Maidenpool as well.”
    â€œHas Lord Merryweather agreed to this?”
    â€œMerryweather has resigned his seat on the council and fled back to Longtable with his wife, who was the first to bring us news of the . . . accusations . . . against Your Grace.”
    â€œThey let Taena go.” That was the best thing she had heard since the High Sparrow had said
no
. Taena could have doomed her. “What of Lord Waters? His ships . . . if he brings his crews ashore, he should have enough men to . . .”
    â€œAs soon as word of Your Grace’s present troubles reached the river, Lord Waters raised sail, unshipped his oars, and took his fleet to sea. Ser Harys fears he means to join Lord Stannis. Pycelle believes that he is sailing to the Stepstones, to set himself up as a pirate.”
    â€œAll my lovely dromonds.” Cersei almost laughed. “My lord father used to say that bastards are treacherous by nature. Would that I had listened.” She shivered. “I am lost, Qyburn.”
    â€œNo.” He took her hand. “Hope remains. Your Grace has the right to prove your innocence by battle. My queen, your champion stands ready. There is no man in all the Seven Kingdoms who can hope to stand against him. If you will only give the command . . .”
    This time she did laugh. It was funny, terribly funny,
hideously
funny. “The gods make japes of all our hopes and plans. I have a champion no man can defeat, but I am forbidden to make use of him. I am the
queen,
Qyburn. My honor can only be defended by a Sworn Brother of the Kingsguard.”
    â€œI see.” The smile died on Qyburn’s face. “Your Grace, I am at a loss. I do not know how to counsel you . . .”
    Even in her exhausted, frightened state, the queen knew she dare not trust her fate to a court of sparrows. Nor could she count on Ser Kevan to intervene, after the words that had passed between them at their last meeting.
It will have to be a trial by battle. There is no other way.
“Qyburn, for the love you bear me, I beg you, send a message for me. A raven if you can. A rider, if not. You must send to Riverrun, to my brother. Tell him what has happened, and write . . . write . . .”
    â€œYes, Your Grace?”
    She licked her lips, shivering. “Come at once. Help me. Save me. I need you now as I have never needed you before. I love you. I love you. I love you.
Come at once.
”
    â€œAs you command. ‘
I love you’
thrice?”
    â€œThrice.” She had to reach him. “He will come. I know he will. He must. Jaime is my only hope.”
    â€œMy queen,” said Qyburn, “have you . . . forgotten? Ser Jaime has no sword hand. If he should