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Cersei let her handmaidens hold her upright, her mind a blank white wall.
She looked at her son, laughing like a madman. She looked at Liana tucked against his side, cheeks flushed with coy pleasure. She looked at the Lannister weapons scattered across the ground like garbage.
What had just happened?
It seemed her son had "rescued" her from a humiliating political marriage.
So why did she feel no joy at all? Why did she feel colder now than before?
"Mother! Did you see that! I am the king!"
Joffrey was still shouting in her ear, drunk on himself. His way of making amends, she supposed, for all the disrespect he'd shown her before.
Cersei did not answer.
She let the handmaidens steer her out of the ruined courtyard and back to her chambers. She waved them all away and sat alone in the opulent room.
Father. Tywin Lannister. That man who had always been the bedrock of their house , driven away by her idiot son, in the most absurd fashion imaginable.
A power vacuum had opened in the Red Keep overnight.
And what had rushed to fill it? That girl. That Liana, who had appeared from nowhere.
Joffrey wanted to marry her? On his own, without counsel, without sense?
Who was this Liana? Where had she even come from? How was someone like her fit to be queen?
Cersei's gaze fell on the mirror.
The woman looking back at her had a haggard face and hollow eyes.
She thought of Lynn.
That man from the North. He was at the root of all of this. A master player moving pieces from a thousand miles away, running the board in King's Landing without ever setting foot in it.
Liana was probably one of his pieces.
Even Joffrey worshipped him like a god.
And she herself , she had become a discarded pawn on that same board. To be pulled into bed and used whenever he felt like it.
I am the Queen Mother.
How did I fall to this?
What were her options?
Rely on Joffrey? That little lunatic who'd send his own mother to the block over a wrong word.
Go to Father? Tywin was barely saving his own skin right now, likely fleeing King's Landing in a fury, cursing her stupidity.
Go crawling to Lynn? Beg his mercy?
Cersei's body shuddered.
She would not bow her head to the man who had taken everything from her.
But Myrcella was still in his hands.
Her daughter. Still in his hands.
Cersei pressed her palms against her face and let out a single, strangled sob.
For the first time in her life, she understood what real despair felt like.
...
Unlike Cersei, Sansa Stark was in a fine mood.
Because her Lord Lynn had written to her.
She sat in her room, holding a small slip of paper. A secret message, delivered by Lynn's man. There weren't many words on it , just a few short sentences.
She looked out the window at the crows wheeling above the Red Keep. Even they seemed to carry something uneasy on the air.
She knew everything that had happened in the courtyard. Joffrey had stripped Tywin of his authority. He intended to marry a girl named Liana. The entire power structure of King's Landing had been upended in a single afternoon.
This was exactly the opening she had been waiting for.
A servant in a gold cloak uniform knocked and stepped inside.
"Lady Stark. His Grace the King requests your presence."
Sansa held the slip of paper over the candle flame and watched it turn to ash. Then she smoothed her skirts, arranged her face into a gentle, tranquil smile, and walked out.
It was time.
She would not disappoint Lynn.
When she entered the king's reception room, Joffrey was leaning toward Liana, talking over himself with excitement. Wine cup shards still glittered across the floor from the earlier celebration.
"Sansa! You're here!"
Joffrey spotted her and waved her over at once, his face lit with smug pleasure. He wanted to gloat. She was one of the women he hadn't managed to have, and he wanted her to see what he was now.
"My future queen — Liana!"
Liana dipped into a curtsy, a demure smile on her lips, warmth dancing behind her eyes.
"Lady Stark."
Sansa curtsied in return.
"Congratulations, Lady Liana." She paused. "Though I suppose I should call you Queen Liana now."
Then she turned to Joffrey, her blue eyes full of precisely calibrated admiration.
"And greater congratulations still to you, Your Grace." Her voice was warm and certain. "What you did today was the act of a true king. The dignity. The decisiveness. All of it."
Joffrey loved nothing more than this. The hostility he'd been carrying toward her softened considerably.
He puffed out his chest and launched into a full account of how he had used his "wisdom" and "courage" to defeat the "old traitor" Tywin. Sansa listened without interrupting, nodding at the right moments, her eyes growing wider with each detail.
"Your wisdom is like the light of the Seven themselves," she said softly. "Shining across the whole kingdom." She let that settle, then added, "To have a king like you is a blessing for every soul in Westeros."
Joffrey was floating. He felt like Aegon the Conqueror. He felt like a figure out of history.
"I've always said it — I am the only one fit to sit the Iron Throne!"
Sansa smiled, and shifted.
"Yes." Her tone stayed gentle. "Not like certain lords who only think about advancing their own houses. Even at the cost of the crown's dignity."
Joffrey's smile hitched. "What did you say?"
"Nothing, Your Grace." A flicker of alarm crossed her face, as if she'd spoken out of turn. "I only... I was going through the kingdom's accounts a few days ago and came across something... curious."
"What kind of something?"
"The Reach." She kept her voice very low, almost hesitant. "House Tyrell's tax payments don't quite match what you'd expect from land as rich as theirs." She paused. "I'd assumed Lord Tywin had privately arranged some relief for them , a concession, to smooth the alliance. After all, the Queen Mother was about to be married into that family. You'd want to offer some sweetener to hold things together."
The words landed like a bolt of lightning on a very particular nerve.
His mother.
Taxes.
Tyrell.
Tywin.
Alliance.
The pieces slammed together in Joffrey's head. That old bastard grandfather of his had wanted to sell his mother off like cargo , and had bled the royal treasury to do it? They had all conspired together. They were all making a fool of him.
BOOM!
His fist hit the table.
The excitement drained from his face and came back as something ugly.
"Fuck that bastard Tywin!"
"And the Tyrells — fence-sitting traitors, every one of them!"
"How dare they!"
"They're stealing from me! They're stealing my gold!"
His voice climbed into something shrill. Liana startled and stepped back half a pace without thinking.
Sansa lowered her head and said nothing, hiding the small, satisfied curve at the corner of her mouth.
"Your Grace, please—"
"Please? You want me to calm down?" He wheeled on her, jabbing a finger. "Bring me the ledgers! Now! This instant!"
"I want to see with my own eyes exactly how much those Reach bumpkins have stolen from me!"
Sansa sent a servant running for the account books. Joffrey snatched the ledger when it arrived, but the dense columns of figures meant nothing to him. He could barely read the numbers.
He did recognize one word: Tyrell.
He gave a solemn, knowing nod , and then hurled the entire ledger at the floor.
"Traitors! All of them, traitors!"
"Tywin is a traitor! Tyrell is a traitor!"
"Every one of them wants to watch me fail! Every one of them has their hand in my pocket!"
He paced the room like a cornered animal.
"Sansa!"
She looked up.
"You are my Master of Coin!"
"Recalculate every tax owed from the Reach. Every coin accounted for, nothing forgiven. Tell House Tyrell they have one month to pay what they owe. No , double it. Double. That's the price for thinking they could deceive their king."
"And one more thing."
A cruel smile spread across his face.
"Draft a royal decree. Send it to all Seven Kingdoms." He straightened up. "House Tyrell will publicly renounce all ties with the traitor Tywin Lannister. Any Reach lord found in private contact with Tywin Lannister will be charged with high treason. Lands stripped. Titles stripped. Forever."
Ser Barristan stood very still, staring.
"Your Grace... this could anger House Tyrell into..."
"Good."
Joffrey's voice went flat and cold.
"Let them be angry. I want to see whether these flower-picking country lords still dare play games in front of their king without Tywin to hide behind." He looked around the room. "Go. Anyone who drags their feet loses their head. Move!"
"Y-yes, Your Grace!"
Kingsguard scrambled over each other getting to the door.
The room went quiet. The only sound was Joffrey's ragged breathing.
Sansa stood to the side and watched the king pace with his face still twisted in fury.
She felt nothing but calm.
She had completed the task Lynn had given her.
A seed of suspicion, planted by her own hand. It would grow on its own from here. All that remained was to see how the rose of Highgarden weathered the storm she had just raised.
She raised her head slowly and looked north.
She hoped Lord Lynn was satisfied with what she'd done.
Perhaps it was enough to earn a little reward from her teacher.
➤ Next: Drawing the Line
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