The guard who opened Othmar's cell was innocent.
That was inconvenient.
His name was Lewys.
Thirty-four years old.
Eleven years in Lannister service.
Wife in Lannisport.
Three children.
No unusual debts.
No unexplained coin.
No secret meetings.
And according to him, he had never opened the door.
"I was bringing food."
Lewys sat opposite us with a bandage around his head.
"Someone called my name."
"Who?" I asked.
"Ser Harys."
I stopped.
Tywin did too.
"You're certain?"
"I know his voice, my lord."
"Where were you?"
"Outside the girl's chamber."
"Why leave your post?"
Lewys looked ashamed.
"He said Lord Tycen wanted me."
I felt my stomach tighten.
"Then?"
"I followed the voice."
"Did you see him?"
"No."
That mattered.
"Where did it lead you?"
"Down the stairs."
"And?"
"Someone hit me."
"From behind?"
"Yes."
"Then you woke up?"
"Yes."
I looked at Tywin.
No traitorous guard.
A voice.
A name.
And someone who knew exactly which orders a Lannister man would obey.
"Where was Harys?" I asked.
"Training yard," Tywin said.
"With witnesses?"
"Twenty."
Good.
Harys wasn't secretly part of the Broken Dragon.
Probably.
I was learning to hate that word.
"Someone imitated him."
Lewys shook his head.
"My lord, it was him."
"No. It sounded like him."
"I've served beside Ser Harys for years."
"Which is why they chose his voice."
The guard looked uncertain.
I understood why.
A voice felt personal.
Certain.
But certainty could be manufactured.
Just like letters.
Just like poison.
Just like fear.
"Did they say anything else?"
Lewys thought.
"Only that you wanted me downstairs immediately."
Exact words.
I leaned back.
"They know how I give orders."
Tywin looked at me.
"Apparently."
That was worse than knowing Harys's voice.
They had studied me closely enough to know people would believe I might suddenly summon a guard without explanation.
I frowned.
"Do I really do that?"
"Constantly."
"That seems unfair."
"It is accurate."
I sighed.
Another habit.
Barristan's lesson returned.
A habit becomes something another swordsman can kill you for.
Not just with swords.
Apparently.
"From now on, verbal orders from me need a word."
Tywin understood immediately.
"A countersign."
"Changed every day."
"Too often."
"Every three days."
"Every seven."
"Five."
Tywin stared at me.
I stared back.
"Seven."
I had apparently lost the negotiation.
Rhaegar would have found that hilarious.
Our first countersign was lavender.
My choice.
I didn't explain why.
Tywin didn't ask.
Then we began building the trap.
If the Keeper wanted to watch me, I would give him something worth watching.
A departure.
Lord Tycen Lannister would leave King's Landing.
Publicly.
Very publicly.
The story spread through the Red Keep by noon.
I had been shaken by the poisoning.
Tywin had decided court was too dangerous.
I would return to Casterly Rock within three days.
We didn't spread it through spies.
That would have been obvious.
Instead, I complained.
At breakfast.
Near servants.
To Rhaegar.
Loudly.
"This city smells terrible anyway."
Rhaegar understood immediately.
He put down his cup.
"You're leaving?"
"Father insists."
"Because someone tried to kill you?"
I glared theatrically.
Three servants nearby pretended not to listen.
"Apparently."
"When?"
"Three days."
"You're a coward."
That wasn't part of the plan.
I stared.
Rhaegar's eyes sparkled.
"I nearly died protecting you in an alley."
"Five years ago."
"I remember."
"Perhaps your memory is failing."
"Perhaps I'll hit you."
"You're leaving, apparently."
I kicked him under the table.
He kicked back.
A servant hurried away with a pitcher.
Perfect.
Within two hours, half the castle knew.
By evening, probably half the city.
Tywin was less impressed.
"You called the Crown Prince an idiot."
"He called me a coward."
"During a fabricated argument."
"He improvised."
"So did you."
"Naturally."
Tywin rubbed his forehead.
"Continue."
The important part wasn't that I was leaving.
It was how.
A small Lannister party.
Ten guards.
Two wagons.
West along the gold road.
Nothing unusual.
Except I wouldn't be in it.
My cloak would.
My horse would.
A boy roughly my size would ride beneath a hood.
Meanwhile, I would remain inside King's Landing.
Quietly.
The goal wasn't to catch someone attacking the convoy.
If the network believed I was leaving, I wanted to see what they did after I was gone.
Did their watchers follow?
Did messages move?
Did someone relax?
Most importantly:
Did the Keeper remain interested in the Red Keep?
Or in me?
"You want to use yourself as bait."
Rhaegar sounded offended.
"I'm specifically not using myself as bait."
"You want people to believe you're bait."
"That's different."
"I should come."
"No."
"Why?"
"Because you're recognizable from three kingdoms away."
He touched his silver-gold hair.
"This again?"
"Yes."
"I can dye it."
I stared at him.
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because if your father discovers I helped the Crown Prince dye his hair and sneak through King's Landing again, he'll probably execute me himself."
Rhaegar considered that.
"Father likes you."
"That makes it worse."
He smiled.
Then became serious.
"What if they attack the convoy?"
"They won't."
"You don't know that."
"No."
He smiled.
I realized what I'd done.
"Don't."
"You said it."
"I know."
"Evidence first."
"I hate you."
"Probably."
I threw a cushion at him.
He caught it.
Then:
"What if someone dies because of the trap?"
That stopped me.
The fake Tycen.
The guards.
Drivers.
Real people.
Not pieces.
The metalworker had died because I frightened the network.
Marya had died after Othmar talked.
Every clever move had a cost.
"I told the men the truth."
Rhaegar looked surprised.
"They know?"
"Not everything. They know the convoy may be watched or attacked. Double pay. Families compensated if anything happens."
"Your father agreed?"
"He suggested triple."
That surprised Rhaegar.
It had surprised me too.
Tywin wasn't generous.
But he understood incentives.
And loyalty.
Sometimes the difference was only the price.
The convoy left at dawn.
I watched from a tower.
My horse rode beneath someone else.
My crimson cloak moved in the morning wind.
For a strange moment, it felt like watching my own funeral procession.
"Comforting?" Harys asked.
"No."
"Good."
He stood beside me.
I looked at him.
"Say something."
"No."
"Anything."
"No."
I frowned.
"You're very useful today."
"You're testing my voice."
I smiled.
He sighed.
"Your swordwork is mediocre, your footwork gets lazy when tired, and you think too much."
"That's definitely you."
"Glad we established it."
I watched the convoy disappear.
"Someone copied you well."
"So I heard."
"Does that bother you?"
"No."
"Really?"
Harys shrugged.
"Men imitate things worth imitating."
I laughed.
He didn't.
Of course he didn't.
The first watcher left King's Landing forty minutes after the convoy.
A woman on horseback.
Our men followed.
The second left an hour later.
Two merchants.
The third never left.
That was the interesting one.
A boy.
Maybe thirteen.
He had watched the convoy depart from near the Gate of the Gods.
Then returned toward the Red Keep.
We followed him.
Carefully.
He bought bread.
Delivered a package.
Spoke with a stableman.
Then disappeared.
Not magically.
Through a sewer entrance.
Rhaegar looked at the hole.
"No."
I looked at him.
"You aren't even supposed to be here."
"I came anyway."
"Exactly. So you don't get opinions."
"I am the Crown Prince."
"Then order the sewer to come to you."
He stared.
I smiled.
Barristan stood behind us.
"No."
Both of us looked at him.
"No what?" Rhaegar asked.
"You are not entering."
Rhaegar sighed.
"Everyone keeps saying that."
"Perhaps listen."
I looked into the darkness.
Five years ago, I'd have gone.
Maybe even last week.
Not now.
"Smoke."
Barristan looked at me.
"What?"
"We don't go in."
I pointed toward the sewer entrance.
"We find every nearby exit. Then put smoke into this one."
Rhaegar smiled.
"Force him out."
"Exactly."
Barristan nodded.
"Better."
Praise from Barristan.
I was becoming spoiled.
There were four exits.
We covered all of them.
Smoke went in.
Ten minutes later, rats came out.
A lot of rats.
I reconsidered every decision that had brought me to King's Landing.
Then a man emerged from the third exit.
Not the boy.
A man.
He coughed violently.
Our guards seized him.
Then another.
Then the boy.
Then a woman.
Four people.
One tunnel.
Interesting.
We entered only after the smoke cleared.
With guards first.
Another improvement.
The tunnel opened into an old storage chamber beneath a ruined building.
Inside were blankets.
Food.
Wax.
Ink.
And maps.
Not ancient prophecy.
Not dragon skulls.
Maps.
King's Landing.
The Red Keep.
Gate rotations.
Servant passages.
Locations of Tywin's household guards.
My chambers.
Rhaegar's chambers.
I stared.
"That's unpleasant."
Rhaegar stood beside me.
"Mine has more notes."
"You're the Crown Prince."
"Still."
One map showed the route of my fake convoy.
Drawn before it left.
"They knew our route."
Barristan looked grim.
"It was announced."
"Not this exactly."
I pointed.
The map showed where the convoy planned to stop the first night.
That information had only been given to the guards that morning.
Leak.
Or—
I looked closer.
A small black mark appeared farther along the gold road.
"What is that?"
Barristan crouched.
"Could be nothing."
It wasn't.
I traced the road.
Narrow valley.
Trees.
Good place for an ambush.
"Send riders."
"To the convoy?"
"Now."
Barristan didn't argue.
They were too late to prevent the ambush.
But not too late to win it.
The attack came near dusk.
Seven men with bows.
Four on foot.
Three mounted.
They targeted the hooded boy immediately.
Exactly as planned.
Except the Lannister guards knew an attack was possible.
The first volley killed one horse.
No men.
Then our guards counterattacked.
Two attackers died.
Three were captured.
The rest fled.
The boy pretending to be me wasn't injured.
Neither were the drivers.
When the raven arrived the next morning, I read it twice.
Relief came first.
Then anger.
"They tried to kill me."
Tywin looked at the report.
"They tried to kill someone they believed was you."
"Same intention."
"Yes."
That contradicted Othmar.
They're not trying to kill you.
Maybe his faction wasn't.
Someone else's clearly was.
The split was real.
Good.
Terrible.
But useful.
"What do the prisoners say?"
"Nothing yet."
"Tokens?"
"None."
That bothered me.
Different faction?
Or smarter agents?
Then Tywin handed me another report.
While the ambush happened outside the city, something else had happened inside.
The four people from the sewer had been questioned separately.
Three knew almost nothing.
Paid watchers.
The boy received instructions from the woman.
The woman received messages left beneath a loose stone.
No Keeper.
No grand conspiracy.
Just layers.
But the fourth prisoner was different.
The man.
He had asked for me.
"Why?"
"He says he will speak only to you."
I smiled.
Tywin didn't.
"What?"
"Every person who specifically wants to speak to you has attempted to manipulate you."
"Maybe this one is different."
"No."
"Probably not."
"Better."
His name was Perwyn.
Or so he claimed.
He was perhaps fifty.
Thin gray beard.
Ordinary face.
He looked like someone's accountant.
That made me trust him less.
I sat across from him.
Two guards behind me.
Harys beside the door.
No Rhaegar.
No Tywin.
Father watched from the adjoining room.
Perwyn smiled.
"Lord Tycen."
"You asked for me."
"I did."
"Why?"
"Because the Keeper wishes to meet you."
I expected something complicated.
That was surprisingly direct.
"Where?"
"Here."
I looked around.
"He's doing a poor job."
Perwyn smiled.
"Not the city. The Red Keep."
I didn't react.
"When?"
"Tonight."
"Where?"
"The godswood."
That was almost insulting.
"Why would I go?"
"Because he can answer your questions."
"People keep promising that."
"He knew your mother."
There it was.
Again.
I sighed.
Perwyn frowned.
"You aren't curious?"
"Very."
"Then—"
"But you're all becoming repetitive."
That genuinely surprised him.
Good.
"Joanna. My hair. Blood. Dragons. You keep dropping pieces in front of me and hoping I'll chase them."
I leaned back.
"Find better bait."
Perwyn studied me.
Then smiled.
"The Keeper said you might say that."
I disliked the Keeper immediately.
"He also said to tell you something else."
"What?"
Perwyn's eyes met mine.
"Renn is alive."
That worked.
I hated that it worked.
"Where?"
"With the Keeper."
"Proof."
Perwyn reached slowly toward his sleeve.
Harys moved.
"Careful."
Perwyn produced a small object.
Wood.
A carved lion.
Crude.
One side damaged.
I recognized it.
Five years ago.
The dungeon.
Renn had carved pieces of wood while waiting for Tywin to decide whether he'd live.
I'd seen one in his cell.
Could be copied.
But who would know?
"Tonight," Perwyn said.
"The godswood."
I looked at the lion.
"Why now?"
"Because you stopped chasing."
That answer interested me.
"The Keeper has watched you for years. He wants to know whether you're ready."
"Ready for what?"
Perwyn smiled.
"Ask him."
"No."
Tywin's answer came before I'd finished.
"Expected."
"You are not meeting an unknown spymaster alone in the godswood."
"Agreed."
That stopped him.
"You agree?"
"Obviously."
"Good."
"So we'll go together."
"No."
"Harys?"
"No."
"Barristan?"
"No."
"Rhaegar?"
"Absolutely not."
I folded my arms.
"You're being difficult."
"I am keeping you alive."
"Same thing sometimes."
Tywin ignored that.
"It's a trap."
"Probably."
"Then we don't enter it."
I looked at him.
"That's what Harys taught me too."
Harys, standing nearby, frowned.
"I taught you to avoid traps."
"No. You taught me that once you recognize a trap, you can use it."
"I don't remember saying that."
"It's what I learned."
"Concerning."
I turned back to Tywin.
"The Keeper expects me."
"Yes."
"He expects guards nearby."
"Yes."
"He expects us to search the godswood beforehand."
"Likely."
"He expects everything obvious."
Tywin understood where I was going.
"So?"
"So we do something he doesn't expect."
Rhaegar, who had absolutely not been invited but had appeared anyway, leaned forward.
"What?"
I looked at Perwyn's wooden lion.
Then smiled.
"We arrest everyone in the godswood."
Silence.
Rhaegar laughed.
Tywin did not.
"I'm serious."
"The Keeper won't appear."
"Exactly."
Rhaegar stopped laughing.
I continued.
"He isn't going to walk up wearing a sign saying Keeper. He's already inside the Red Keep."
Tywin's eyes sharpened.
"He may have been for years."
"Exactly."
"Servant?"
"Maybe."
"Guard?"
"Maybe."
"Lord?"
"Maybe."
Rhaegar looked between us.
"So how does arresting everyone help?"
"We don't actually arrest them."
I moved toward the map of the Red Keep.
"We close every exit after I enter."
Tywin followed.
"Then?"
"Nobody leaves."
"And the Keeper?"
"Has a problem."
I smiled.
"He invited me because he wants to see how I react."
I tapped the map.
"So I'll give him something worth watching."
Night came.
The godswood was quiet.
King's Landing's godswood wasn't like Winterfell's.
Smaller.
Warmer.
Less ancient.
Still dark enough.
I entered alone.
Technically.
Harys was twenty paces behind the wall.
Lannister guards covered every exit.
Barristan knew.
Tywin knew.
Rhaegar had been locked in his chambers.
His response to that had been memorable.
I walked toward the heart tree.
Not a weirwood.
Just an old oak.
No one waited.
Of course.
I sat.
Minutes passed.
Nothing.
Ten.
Twenty.
Thirty.
I began feeling stupid.
Then:
"You look like her when you're impatient."
The voice came from behind me.
I stood.
An old man stepped from between the trees.
Not dramatic.
No gray cloak.
No armor.
Simple brown clothing.
White hair.
Walking stick.
I recognized him.
And that was far worse.
I'd seen him almost every day since returning to King's Landing.
He served wine in the king's outer chambers.
Sometimes carried documents.
Once held a door for me.
Invisible.
Perfect.
"You're the Keeper."
The old man smiled.
"One of them."
My stomach tightened.
One of them.
Of course.
Layers.
Even at the top.
"Name?"
"Arlan."
"Real?"
"Once."
"Renn?"
"Alive."
"Where?"
"Safe."
"Why did you take him?"
"Because Aerys would have killed him."
That matched what we'd suspected.
"Why follow Rhaegar?"
"Because he will be king."
Simple.
"Why follow me?"
Arlan looked at me for a long time.
Then:
"Because Joanna asked us to."
Everything inside me stopped.
No dramatic prophecy.
No talk of dragon blood.
Just my mother's name.
I forced myself to breathe.
"That's a convenient claim."
"It is."
"Proof."
Arlan smiled.
"Good."
He reached into his clothing.
I drew my sword.
He stopped.
Slowly, he removed a folded piece of cloth.
Lavender.
Faded with age.
My throat tightened.
No.
Could be anything.
Could be manufactured.
Evidence first.
Always.
He placed it on the ground.
Then a ring.
Gold.
A lion engraved on its face.
I knew that ring.
I had seen it in memories I rarely allowed myself to visit.
Joanna wore it.
Not every day.
But often.
I remembered her hand in my hair.
Lavender.
Warmth.
The ring catching candlelight.
My sword lowered slightly.
"Where did you get that?"
"From her."
"When?"
"Before Tyrion was born."
My chest tightened.
"What did she ask?"
Arlan looked toward the trees.
"She knew court was dangerous."
"That's not an answer."
"No."
His eyes returned to me.
"She asked us to watch her eldest son."
"Why?"
"Because she feared the king."
Aerys.
My grip tightened.
"What did Aerys do?"
"That isn't my secret to tell."
Anger flashed.
"You dragged me here."
"No. I invited you."
"You watched me for years. People died. Someone poisoned me."
"Not my people."
"The Broken Dragon—"
"Does not exist."
I stopped.
"What?"
"The token is old. Different factions use it now. Some still serve Aerys. Some sell secrets. Some serve men you have never met."
"And you?"
"I served Joanna."
Past tense.
"Now?"
Arlan smiled.
"Now I wanted to see whether her son was worth serving."
There it was.
The test.
Everything.
Renn.
Maybe the letters.
Maybe Othmar.
How much had been his?
How much belonged to other factions?
"Did you arrange Othmar's escape?"
"No."
"Did you kill Marya?"
"No."
"Did you order my poisoning?"
"No."
"Did you arrange the ambush?"
"No."
"Convenient."
"Very."
I almost laughed.
Then I remembered the plan.
The exits were sealed.
Arlan had entered after me.
Which meant he'd either been inside already—
or one of our men had let him through.
"Who helped you enter?"
He smiled.
"I didn't enter."
Of course.
He'd been hiding before we sealed it.
Another mistake.
"You're surrounded."
"I know."
"Then why come?"
"Because you aren't going to arrest me."
"Confident."
"If you wanted me arrested, you would have shouted already."
He was right.
I hated him for that.
"Tell me about my mother."
"No."
My sword rose again.
His expression didn't change.
"You aren't ready."
"I'm beginning to despise that sentence."
"Good."
"Why not?"
"Because the answer would change how you see your father."
Tywin.
My father.
The man waiting beyond the wall.
I remembered the prisoner trying to make me suspicious of him.
The Anniversary Tourney lie.
Exactly this.
I smiled.
Arlan frowned.
"No."
"What?"
"That's the trap."
Understanding flickered.
"You tell me some terrible secret about Joanna and Aerys. I begin questioning Tywin. Maybe I confront him. Maybe I stop trusting him."
I shook my head.
"Not tonight."
Arlan studied me.
Then, slowly, smiled.
"She would have liked that answer."
That hurt more than I expected.
He turned.
"Stop."
Arlan paused.
"Renn."
"He lives."
"I want to see him."
"You will."
"When?"
"When you're ready."
I nearly threw my sword at him.
"Enough with—"
A whistle sounded.
Three short notes.
Arlan's expression changed.
Not planned.
For the first time, he looked genuinely surprised.
Then shouting erupted beyond the godswood.
Steel.
A scream.
Arlan moved.
I blocked him.
"What is that?"
"I don't know."
That frightened me more than if he had.
Then a flaming arrow passed over the wall.
It struck a tree.
Another followed.
Fire spread through dry leaves.
"TYCEN!"
Harys.
I ran.
Arlan followed.
Men appeared at the far entrance.
Not Lannister guards.
Five.
Maybe six.
Black cloth covering their faces.
Swords.
One carried a bow.
They hadn't come for Arlan.
They looked directly at me.
"Alive!" one shouted.
Not dead.
Alive.
Interesting.
No time.
The first man attacked.
I parried.
Hard.
Too hard.
Adult strength drove me backward.
I moved instead of meeting it.
Harys had taught me that.
The man swung again.
I stepped inside.
Sword into thigh.
He screamed.
I didn't stop.
Pommel to jaw.
Down.
Another came.
Arlan struck him with the walking stick.
The stick broke.
Steel inside.
Of course.
"You're armed?"
"I'm old, not stupid."
I laughed despite myself.
Then the archer fired.
Arlan shoved me.
The arrow struck his shoulder.
He fell.
"Arlan!"
"Move!"
Three attackers remained.
Harys burst through the smoke.
Bad day for them.
His sword went through the first man's stomach.
Barristan arrived from the other side.
Very bad day.
The second attacker lasted perhaps four seconds.
The third ran.
I saw him.
Every instinct screamed chase.
I didn't.
"Seal the gates!"
Harys glanced at me.
Good.
Lesson learned.
The man disappeared into the smoke.
Then ran directly into six Lannister guards.
Captured.
Alive.
I turned back.
Arlan sat against the tree, gripping the arrow.
Blood soaked his sleeve.
"Don't pull it."
"I know."
I knelt beside him.
He smiled weakly.
"Better."
"What?"
"Than the alley."
Five years ago.
Renn.
He knew.
"Who attacked us?"
"I don't know."
"Stop saying that."
"I'm beginning to understand why Tywin finds you exhausting."
I almost smiled.
Then Arlan grabbed my wrist.
Hard.
"Listen."
His amusement vanished.
"Whoever sent them knew about this meeting."
My stomach dropped.
Only a handful of people knew.
Tywin.
Harys.
Barristan.
Rhaegar.
Perwyn.
Me.
And the Keeper's people.
"One of yours?"
"Or one of yours."
Fire crackled behind us.
Guards dragged the surviving attacker closer.
He was young.
Maybe twenty.
Bloodied.
Terrified.
I stood.
"Search him."
Harys did.
Knife.
Coins.
Nothing.
Then Barristan found something sewn into his sleeve.
A token.
Iron.
He handed it to me.
I expected the broken dragon.
It wasn't.
One side showed a dragon.
Whole.
Crowned.
On the other was a single word.
LOYALTY.
Arlan saw it.
And went pale.
"What?"
He didn't answer.
I grabbed his shoulder.
"What does it mean?"
His eyes moved toward the Red Keep.
Toward the king's chambers.
Then back to me.
"The men who never left."
I understood.
Aerys's original network had split.
Arlan's faction.
The sellers.
The others.
And some had remained exactly what they had always been.
The king's eyes.
The king's knives.
The dragon hadn't broken completely.
Part of it still belonged to Aerys.
And tonight, that part had come for me alive.
I looked toward the burning trees.
For the first time, I wasn't wondering who wanted me dead.
I was wondering why the king's secret servants wanted me taken.
And whether Aerys himself even knew they were still obeying his name.