A Game of Thrones 4-Book Bundle

starting to believe that Robert
was the
clever
one.”
    Tyrion threw back his head and roared. They laughed together. Cersei
pulled him off the bed and whirled him around and even hugged him, for a moment
as giddy as a girl. By the time she let go of him, Tyrion was breathless and
dizzy. He staggered to her sideboard and put out a hand to steady
himself.
    â€œDo you think it will truly come to battle between them? If they should come
to some accord—”
    â€œThey won’t,” Tyrion said. “They are too different and yet too much alike,
and neither could ever stomach the other.”
    â€œAnd Stannis has always felt he was cheated of Storm’s End,” Cersei said
thoughtfully. “The ancestral seat of House Baratheon, his by
rights . . . if you knew how many times he came to Robert
singing that same dull song in that gloomy aggrieved tone he has. When Robert
gave the place to Renly, Stannis clenched his jaw so tight I thought his teeth
would shatter.”
    â€œHe took it as a slight.”
    â€œIt was meant as a slight,” Cersei said.
    â€œShall we raise a cup to brotherly love?”
    â€œYes,” she answered, breathless. “Oh, gods, yes.”
    His back was to her as he filled two cups with sweet Arbor red. It was the
easiest thing in the world to sprinkle a pinch of fine powder into hers. “To
Stannis!” he said as he handed her the wine.
Harmless when I’m alone, am
I?
    â€œTo Renly!” she replied, laughing. “May they battle long and hard, and the
Others take them both!”
    Is this the Cersei that Jaime sees?
When she smiled, you

saw how beautiful she was, truly.
I loved a maid as fair as summer, with
sunlight in her hair.
He almost felt sorry for poisoning her.
    It was the next morning as he broke his fast that her messenger arrived. The
queen was indisposed and would not be able to leave her chambers.
Not able
to leave her privy, more like.
Tyrion made the proper sympathetic noises
and sent word to Cersei to rest easy, he would treat with Ser Cleos as they’d
planned.
    The Iron Throne of Aegon the Conqueror was a tangle of nasty barbs and jagged
metal teeth waiting for any fool who tried to sit too comfortably, and the
steps made his stunted legs cramp as he climbed up to it, all too aware of what
an absurd spectacle he must be. Yet there was one thing to be said for it. It
was
high.
    Lannister guardsmen stood silent in their crimson cloaks and lion-crested
halfhelms. Ser Jacelyn’s gold cloaks faced them across the hall. The steps to
the throne were flanked by Bronn and Ser Preston of the Kingsguard. Courtiers
filled the gallery while supplicants clustered near the towering oak-and-bronze
doors. Sansa Stark looked especially lovely this morning, though her face was
as pale as milk. Lord Gyles stood coughing, while poor cousin Tyrek wore his
bridegroom’s mantle of miniver and velvet.

Since his marriage to little Lady Ermesande three days past, the other squires
had taken to calling him “Wet Nurse” and asking him what sort of swaddling
clothes his bride wore on their wedding night.
    Tyrion looked down on them all, and found he liked it. “Call forth Ser
Cleos Frey.” His voice rang off the stone walls

and down the length of the hall. He liked that too.
A pity Shae could not
be here to see this,
he reflected. She’d asked to come, but it was
impossible.
    Ser Cleos made the long walk between the gold cloaks and the crimson, looking
neither right nor left. As he knelt, Tyrion observed that his cousin was losing
his hair.
    â€œSer Cleos,” Littlefinger said from the council table, “you have our thanks
for bringing us this peace offer from Lord Stark.”
    Grand Maester Pycelle cleared his throat. “The Queen Regent, the King’s Hand,
and the small council have considered the terms offered by this self-styled
King in the North. Sad to say, they will not do, and you must tell these
northmen so, ser.”
    â€œHere are
our
terms,” said Tyrion. “Robb Stark must lay down his
sword, swear fealty, and return to Winterfell. He must free my brother
unharmed, and place his host under Jaime’s command, to march against the rebels
Renly and Stannis Baratheon. Each of Stark’s bannermen must send us a son as
hostage. A daughter will suffice where there is no son. They shall be treated
gently and given high places