For several seconds, nobody spoke.
The prisoner smiled at me.
Tywin stood perfectly still.
And I did the most useful thing I had learned over the last five years.
I checked the claim before believing it.
The Anniversary Tourney.
Aerys had taken the throne in 262 AC.
Ten years.
272 AC.
My mother had been dead for four years.
I looked at the woman.
Then I laughed.
Her smile faltered.
It was tiny.
But I saw it.
"You don't know."
Tywin's eyes shifted toward me.
The woman recovered quickly.
"Don't I?"
"No."
I stepped closer.
"The tourney celebrating ten years of Aerys's reign was two years ago."
Silence.
"My mother died in 268."
The woman's expression changed.
Only slightly.
There.
"Joanna Lannister couldn't have been there."
Tywin said nothing.
I continued.
"So either you're an idiot..."
I leaned forward.
"...or you're testing what I know."
The woman's smile vanished.
Good.
For the first time since we'd caught her, I had taken something from her.
Control.
"You expected me to ask Father about Mother. You expected him to react."
I glanced at Tywin.
"And he did."
His expression hardened.
That part wasn't comfortable.
"But not because your story was true."
The woman looked toward him.
I followed her eyes.
"What are you actually trying to make me believe?"
No answer.
I smiled.
"That's better."
"What is?"
"You're finally afraid to talk."
She laughed once.
Forced.
"You're a clever little lion."
"Don't call me little."
Her eyes narrowed.
I turned toward Tywin.
"Don't torture her."
The woman looked surprised.
So did one of the guards.
Tywin did not.
"Why?"
"Because she wants us emotional."
I looked at her.
"She mentioned Mother because she knew it would affect both of us. She wants Father angry and me curious."
"Perhaps she simply knows something."
"Then she wouldn't need a lie."
That landed.
Tywin looked at the woman differently.
I could see him reconsidering the entire conversation.
Good.
That was what I wanted.
The prisoner had controlled the room by implying she possessed some enormous secret.
Now she had to prove it.
Tywin stepped closer.
"You will be taken to a cell."
The woman's confidence returned.
"Eventually you'll ask."
"No," I said.
She looked at me.
"We won't."
That bothered her more than any threat.
Good.
The guards took her away.
The door shut.
Then I turned toward my father.
"Now I'll ask."
Tywin stared at me.
I smiled slightly.
"I'm not stupid."
"No."
That sounded almost reluctant.
"You reacted."
"To hearing your mother's name used by a prisoner involved in an attempt on your life."
"Partly."
Tywin walked toward the table.
I followed.
"Aerys knew Mother before she married you."
"Yes."
"He desired her."
Silence.
"You already told me that."
"I told you the king desired many things."
"That wasn't a denial."
Tywin's eyes met mine.
There were moments when having an older mind helped.
This was one of them.
A normal twelve-year-old might have demanded answers.
Become angry.
Made accusations.
I didn't have enough information for accusations.
So I changed direction.
"Did Mother ever tell you she was afraid of him?"
That question worked.
Tywin didn't answer immediately.
"Why do you ask?"
"Because that's more important than whether Aerys wanted her."
Tywin's expression shifted.
Just slightly.
"She disliked court."
"I know."
"She disliked the king's attention."
There.
Something real.
"Did he hurt her?"
Tywin's eyes became cold.
"No."
The answer came quickly.
Maybe truthful.
Maybe what he needed to believe.
I didn't push.
Not yet.
"What does any of that have to do with me?"
"I do not know."
I studied him.
That might have been the most frightening answer possible.
Tywin hated admitting ignorance.
If he said he didn't know, he probably didn't.
"So she was lying."
"About the tourney."
"But she knew mentioning Mother would work."
"Yes."
"Which means whoever trained her knows about Aerys and Mother."
"Half the older court remembers his interest in Joanna."
That was useful.
Not a hidden supernatural secret.
Court gossip.
Information someone could weaponize.
I looked toward the door.
"Then perhaps this isn't about Mother at all."
Tywin waited.
"It's about making me think it is."
Rhaegar was furious when I told him.
"You let her lie?"
"Generally, prisoners don't ask permission."
"You know what I mean."
We were in my chambers.
Barristan stood outside.
Tywin had doubled my guards.
Again.
At this rate, by sixteen I'd require an army to visit the privy.
Rhaegar paced.
"She mentioned your mother deliberately."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"To make me curious."
"About what?"
"I don't know."
"You're remarkably calm."
"No, I'm thinking."
He stopped.
That was something else I'd become better at.
Fear was useful.
Anger too.
But only after you separated them from the problem.
I placed the broken-dragon token on the table.
"Let's start over."
Rhaegar sat.
"Five years ago, someone paid boys to follow you."
"Yes."
"Not attack. Follow."
"Yes."
"Renn was captured."
"Then disappeared."
"Years later, his name appears in the workshop."
Rhaegar nodded.
"I return to King's Landing and someone tries to poison me."
"Then we find the same network."
"Maybe."
He frowned.
"Still maybe?"
"Yes."
"Tycen."
"Assuming things is how people die."
He rolled his eyes.
I continued.
"We find letters designed to make your father suspicious of multiple houses, including mine."
"Yes."
"We provoke the network. They kill their own metalworker and leave us a workshop full of evidence."
"A trap."
"Two traps. Fire and false information."
Rhaegar leaned forward.
"Then we capture the woman."
"Who immediately tries to make the investigation personal."
"Your mother."
"Exactly."
I placed my finger on the token.
"What does all of that have in common?"
Rhaegar thought.
"Us?"
"No."
"Aerys?"
"Closer."
Then I saw him understand.
"Suspicion."
I nodded.
"Every step creates suspicion."
Aerys against Tywin.
Aerys against other houses.
Me against Father.
Maybe me against Aerys.
"They don't need us dead."
Rhaegar looked toward the token.
"Then why poison you?"
That was the problem.
I stood.
"Maybe they didn't."
Rhaegar stared.
"The dog died."
"I know."
"You were poisoned."
"My cup was poisoned."
"That's usually how poisoning works."
I ignored him.
"Who noticed?"
"You."
"Exactly."
I walked toward the door.
Rhaegar followed.
"Where are we going?"
"Kitchen."
Tommen had been instructed to give me a particular cup.
We knew that.
We had assumed the person who gave him the cup wanted me to drink from it.
But assumptions were dangerous.
The royal kitchens were enormous.
Dozens of servants.
Cooks shouting.
Knives chopping.
Meat roasting.
Nobody wanted the heir to Casterly Rock questioning them.
That was useful.
Fear made people attentive.
I found the man responsible for preparing the council trays.
"Who chooses the cups?"
He swallowed.
"I do, my lord."
"Did you choose mine?"
"No."
"Who did?"
"I don't know."
Wrong.
"Try again."
He looked toward Rhaegar.
Then me.
"My lord—"
"You're not in trouble."
That was a lie.
Possibly.
"Who changed the cup?"
"A girl."
"What girl?"
"New. I thought she was one of the scullions."
"Name?"
"I don't know."
"Appearance?"
"Brown hair. Thin."
Useless.
"Age?"
"Fourteen? Fifteen?"
Better.
"Why did you let her change it?"
"She said the cup was dirty."
I looked at Rhaegar.
"Did she clean it?"
The cook frowned.
"No."
"What did she do with it?"
"Replaced it."
"And the dirty one?"
"She took it."
There.
"Did she know which cup was mine?"
"I..."
He hesitated.
"How?"
"I told her."
Rhaegar cursed quietly.
"Why?"
"She asked whose place it was."
"Why?"
"She said she needed to know whether to use silver or gold trim."
I almost smiled.
Simple.
No secret network inside the kitchen required.
Just confidence.
One question.
One servant answering automatically.
"Did anyone see where she went?"
A kitchen boy had.
Not because he'd been suspicious.
Because he'd thought she was pretty.
People.
Always people.
He'd followed her into a storage corridor.
There she'd met a man.
Not gray cloak.
Blue.
"Did you hear anything?"
The boy looked terrified.
"A little."
"Tell me."
"He asked if it was done."
"And?"
"She said yes."
"Anything else?"
The boy hesitated.
Rhaegar crouched slightly.
"What did she say?"
The boy looked at him.
"She said..."
His eyes dropped.
"She said the lion would smell it."
I froze.
"What?"
"She said the lion would smell it."
Rhaegar slowly turned toward me.
My mind accelerated.
Sweet smell.
Faint.
The servant watching me.
My refusal.
The chase.
The entire investigation.
"They expected me to notice."
Rhaegar's face changed.
The poisoning hadn't failed.
It had worked perfectly.
The cup was never meant to kill me.
It was meant to be discovered.
"But why use real poison?" Rhaegar asked.
"Because otherwise nobody believes the threat."
"And if you drank?"
I thought about that.
"Then they misjudged me."
Or didn't care.
Either answer was bad.
I turned back to the boy.
"The man in blue. Describe him."
"Old."
"How old?"
"Forty. Maybe fifty."
"Hair?"
"Gray."
"Anything unusual?"
The boy thought.
Then nodded.
"He walked strangely."
"How?"
"Like this."
He dragged his right foot.
Rhaegar and I looked at each other.
Finally.
Something physical.
Something harder to change than a cloak.
We found seven men matching the description before nightfall.
Six were wrong.
The seventh ran.
He made it three streets.
This time I didn't chase him.
I had men waiting at both ends.
He turned the corner and found four Lannister guards.
He turned back.
Four more.
I walked toward him slowly.
He stared at me.
"Lord Tycen."
"You know me."
Everyone apparently did.
He drew a knife.
Eight swords came out.
He looked around.
Then laughed.
"Improved."
That word stopped me.
"Five years ago, you would have chased me."
My hand tightened around my sword.
Renn.
The alley.
"Who are you?"
"A messenger."
"For whom?"
"You know the answer."
"No."
He smiled.
"Good."
Then he moved.
Not toward me.
Toward himself.
Knife to throat.
I had expected it.
"NOW!"
An arrow struck his shoulder.
The knife fell.
He screamed.
One of my men tackled him.
I had positioned an archer above the street for exactly that reason.
The gray-cloaked man had killed himself.
The woman had tried.
I wasn't giving them a third chance.
I approached while the guards bound him.
Blood ran down his arm.
He looked up at me.
For the first time, one of them was alive, conscious and unable to die on command.
I crouched.
"You said I've improved."
He smiled weakly.
"You have."
"So you've watched me."
"Yes."
"Since I was seven?"
Silence.
I changed the question.
"Why?"
His eyes moved toward my hair.
Not my face.
My hair.
I noticed.
"Why are you looking at my hair?"
Nothing.
I grabbed his jaw.
"Why?"
He laughed.
"Gold."
My stomach tightened.
"What about it?"
"Not quite right."
Anger came.
I controlled it.
He wanted that.
"Who pays you?"
No answer.
"Broken dragon?"
Something flickered.
Fear.
Not pride.
Not loyalty.
Fear.
Good.
"What does it mean?"
"You should leave it alone."
"People keep trying to kill themselves rather than answer me. That makes leaving it alone difficult."
He looked at me for a long time.
Then whispered:
"They're not trying to kill you."
"We worked that out."
His eyes widened.
Only slightly.
He hadn't expected that.
Good.
"Why watch me?"
No answer.
I tried something else.
"Why Rhaegar?"
His expression changed again.
"Prince Rhaegar is part of it."
"Part of what?"
"The blood."
There it was again.
Rhaegar stepped forward.
"What blood?"
The man looked at him.
Then me.
Dragon.
Lion.
Silver-gold.
Dark gold.
"The old blood."
I felt irritation rise.
"Speak plainly."
"You wouldn't believe me."
"Try."
He smiled.
Then looked directly at Rhaegar.
"The dragon has three heads."
Rhaegar went completely still.
Oh, fuck.
I knew that phrase.
So did he.
His prophecy.
I stood immediately.
"Take him."
Rhaegar grabbed my arm.
"Wait."
"No."
"He knows something."
"Exactly."
"Tycen—"
"That's why we're not questioning him here."
I leaned closer.
"Someone has spent years feeding suspicion to your father. Now they just said exactly the thing you've been reading about."
Understanding slowly replaced excitement.
"Prophecy."
"They know what interests you."
Rhaegar looked at the prisoner.
"They're manipulating us."
"Maybe."
He gave me an irritated look.
I smiled.
"Evidence first."
The prisoner laughed as guards dragged him away.
"You cannot stop what's coming!"
I watched him go.
That was the sort of sentence designed to stay in someone's head.
So I refused to let it.
Instead, I looked at the practical problem.
Who had access to Rhaegar's reading habits?
Who knew about my mother's history at court?
Who knew enough about my childhood to measure how I'd changed?
Who benefited if Aerys distrusted Tywin?
That was a much smaller list.
And for the first time, we had someone alive who might make it smaller still.
Tywin listened to everything without interrupting.
When I finished, he looked at the prisoner through the small opening in the cell door.
"You anticipated the suicide attempt."
"Twice was enough."
"You positioned an archer."
"Yes."
"Without my permission."
"Would you have said no?"
"Yes."
"That's why."
His stare could have frozen the Blackwater.
Then, unexpectedly:
"Good."
I blinked.
"You are still being punished."
"Of course."
"But good."
I smiled.
Then Tywin turned serious.
"You were correct about another matter."
"Which?"
"The poison."
He handed me a report.
The substance in my cup had a strong sweet odor when mixed with wine.
Too obvious for a competent poisoner.
Designed to be noticed.
I read the report.
"They wanted the investigation."
"Yes."
"Then the workshop—"
"Was meant to be found."
"The letters."
"Meant to be read."
"The woman."
"Perhaps meant to be captured."
That bothered me.
"What about this man?"
Tywin looked toward the cell.
"We assume nothing."
I smiled.
He noticed.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Tycen."
"You said it."
"Said what?"
"Assume nothing."
His eyes narrowed.
"I'm learning."
"Try doing so more quietly."
The interrogation began after midnight.
No torture.
Not yet.
I had another idea.
The prisoner expected pain.
So we gave him food.
Wine.
A maester treated his shoulder.
Then we left him alone.
For hours.
At dawn, Tywin entered.
I watched from behind a screen with Rhaegar.
The man looked exhausted.
Tywin sat opposite him.
No threats.
No weapons.
Just a question.
"How much?"
The prisoner frowned.
"What?"
"How much are they paying you?"
Silence.
"I will double it."
The man laughed.
"You can't."
"Then triple it."
"You don't understand."
"I understand coin."
"This isn't about coin."
Good.
First answer.
Tywin leaned back.
"Faith?"
No response.
"Family?"
There.
Tiny.
Eyes down.
I saw it.
So did Tywin.
"Family," Father repeated.
The man's jaw tightened.
Tywin stood.
That was enough.
He left.
Rhaegar whispered:
"That's it?"
"No."
I was already thinking.
Family.
Not loyalty.
Not prophecy.
Not ideology.
Fear.
Someone had his family.
Or he believed they did.
"What now?" Rhaegar asked.
I looked at Tywin.
He looked back at me.
He wanted my answer.
Five years ago, I would have thought about how to make the prisoner talk.
Now I thought about what he wanted.
What he feared.
Creylen.
Tywin.
Harys.
Every lesson leading to the same point.
"We don't break him."
Tywin waited.
"We give him another option."
"Which?"
"We find his family first."
Rhaegar smiled.
Tywin didn't.
But he nodded.
And that was better.
Because for the first time since the broken dragon appeared, we weren't following the path our enemy had prepared.
We were making our own.