Lynn's warm breath brushed against Margaery's ear.
Like a feather, gently teasing her most sensitive nerves.
The perfect smile Margaery always wore finally cracked.
A suspicious blush spread from her ears to her cheeks, adding a breathtaking beauty to her already lovely face.
Margaery's body trembled almost imperceptibly, but she didn't retreat.
She was a smart woman.
She knew that in the face of absolute power, any scheme or plot appeared pale and weak.
Lynn had shown his hand; he didn't need to choose a side, because he was a force capable of changing the board himself.
And now, Lynn had issued a brand new invitation.
An invitation far more direct and tempting than supporting Renly as King.
Let the Rose of Highgarden bloom in the North.
Margaery knew exactly what that meant.
Renly was too variable; after all, he didn't like women.
But Lynn was different. He was a normal man.
If they married, there would definitely be heirs.
As long as Lynn ascended the Iron Throne and had a child with her, the Tyrells' position would be even more secure.
She wasn't angry at Lynn's nearly rude behavior.
On the contrary, the heart that had been slightly panicked because her plans were seen through strangely settled down at this moment.
Lynn's behavior made her instantly understand her value in his eyes.
As for lust or anything else, she could care less.
She cared about status and her family.
This gave her an unprecedented thrill.
Margaery raised her eyes. The confusion and panic quickly faded from her beautiful brown orbs.
"The lands of the North are too bitter and cold."
Margaery's voice returned to its usual softness.
But there was a subtle hook in her tone, gently scratching at a man's heart.
"I fear the Rose of Highgarden would wither quickly in such ice and snow."
She neither refused nor accepted.
Instead, she cleverly threw the question back.
Like an experienced merchant, after Lynn named his price, she began to leisurely assess the risks and benefits of the deal.
"Wither?"
Lynn smiled.
He released Margaery's chin.
His fingertips slid slowly down the graceful curve of her neck.
Finally resting on the rose embroidered in gold thread on her chest.
The movement was aggressive, yet carried an irresistible ambiguity.
"No."
"I promise, it will bloom more beautifully there than anywhere else."
Through the silky fabric, Lynn's fingertip gently caressed the stamen of the rose.
"Because I will water it with the wealth of the entire North and warm it with dragonfire."
Margaery's breath hitched slightly.
Lynn's promise was like a cup of the richest Dornish red, carrying a fatal temptation that made her slightly intoxicated.
She knew Lynn wasn't speaking empty words.
A man who could produce something world-changing like canned food made promises of wealth that were no lie.
But Margaery also knew that the more tempting the fruit, the greater the risk.
She had to see Lynn demonstrate strength worthy of her and House Tyrell's bet.
Not just distant dragons and armies.
But a reality close at hand that could truly change the power structure of King's Landing.
Margaery took half a step back, cleverly escaping Lynn's control which made her heart race.
She walked to the table and poured herself a cup of water, using the small action to calm her disordered thoughts.
"Lord Lynn, your promise is indeed moving."
She turned around, the impeccable smile back on her face.
"However, the future is too distant. I prefer to grasp what I can see right now."
Margaery's gaze fell toward the direction of the Iron Throne room.
"For example, the duel in seven days."
"And for example..."
Margaery lowered her voice even further, shrewd light flickering in her beautiful eyes.
"After Petyr Baelish falls, the vacant position of Master of Coin."
Lynn raised an eyebrow slightly.
He knew the real negotiation was starting now.
"A Master of Coin position in exchange for the Rose of Highgarden?"
Lynn's tone held a hint of amusement.
"Lady Tyrell, are you selling yourself short?"
"No, the position of Master of Coin is merely the foundation of our cooperation."
Margaery shook her head, looking at Lynn seriously.
"I am merely assessing your sincerity."
"Although Petyr Baelish has fallen, there are many in King's Landing eyeing that seat."
"The Lannisters, Lord Renly, even Varys—they will all try to install their own people."
"If you can place the most important purse of Westeros into the hands of someone we both accept and can control..."
Margaery didn't finish, but the meaning was self-evident.
This was both a test and a tribute.
If Lynn could do it, it would prove his ability to summon wind and rain in the center of the power vortex that was King's Landing.
It would also prove he was qualified for House Tyrell to bet on him.
A candidate controllable by both sides...
Several names flashed through Lynn's mind.
But he quickly rejected them one by one.
He needed someone absolutely loyal, but not too conspicuous.
Ideally, someone everyone would overlook, yet who could be firmly controlled by him.
Someone who seemed harmless, even foolish, but could sit in that seat and guard the purse for him.
Suddenly, a figure appeared in his mind.
A red-haired girl in a blue dress, always bowing her head timidly when she saw him, like a frightened bird.
Sansa Stark.
The thought seemed absurd even to Lynn as soon as it popped up.
Let that silly girl, whose head was filled with princes, knights, and songs, be the Master of Coin?
This was more ridiculous than asking the Mountain to do embroidery.
But on second thought, it seemed the most perfect, unexpected, and fitting choice.
First, Sansa was Ned's daughter.
The eldest daughter of House Stark.
If she took over Petyr's position, Ned Stark, the Hand, would definitely not object and would even fully support it.
This established a firm legal footing.
Second, Sansa had previously appeared naive, even stupid.
In everyone's eyes, she was just a pretty decoration, a puppet easily manipulated.
The Lannisters would think they could control her, Renly would think he could win her over, and Varys would think she was no threat.
No one would see her as a real danger.
And this was exactly what Lynn needed.
He didn't need a shrewd Master of Coin; he needed an obedient rubber stamp.
All the complex accounts and operations could be handled behind the scenes by professionals poached from the Iron Bank of Braavos or other Free Cities.
Sansa only needed to sit there.
Using her identity as the eldest daughter of House Stark and Master of Coin, she would stamp and seal every request.
Most importantly.
Sansa had a near-blind worship and dependence on him.
Especially after experiencing Joffrey's betrayal and the cruel reality of King's Landing, the image of the prince who was once like a god in her eyes had long collapsed.
And Lynn had long occupied a special place in her heart.
Sansa would listen to him obediently.
"I have a candidate."
Lynn looked into Margaery's searching eyes and slowly spoke the name.
"Sansa Stark."
"Who?"
Even as clever as Margaery was, she thought she misheard the moment she heard the name.
"The eldest daughter of House Stark?"
For the first time, Margaery showed undisguised astonishment.
"Lord Lynn, are you joking?"
"Do I look like I'm joking?"
Lynn's rhetorical question turned the astonishment on Margaery's face into deep thought.
Her brain spun rapidly.
Sansa Stark...
This choice seemed absurd, yet it carried a brilliance that shattered expectations.
Just like Lynn himself, never playing by the rules, yet always achieving the most astounding results.
She instantly understood all the key points.
With Sansa as Master of Coin, Ned Stark would support it, and King Robert wouldn't object for Ned's sake.
And Sansa herself was seen by everyone as a soft persimmon easily squeezed.
It was simply a perfect candidate that no faction could fault, and everyone felt they could take advantage of!
But in reality, the true controllers would be Lynn and the Tyrells hiding behind the scenes!
Brilliant!
Truly brilliant!
Margaery looked at Lynn, her beautiful eyes shining with strange light.
She found herself increasingly unable to see through the man before her.
Every move he made was so unexpected, yet so precise and ruthless.
"It seems Lord Lynn already has a plan."
Margaery put away all her disdain.
She curtsied gracefully to Lynn.
The gesture carried a sincere respect.
"Then, I will await the good news."
She knew it was time to leave.
The amount of information she received tonight was too great; she needed to go back and digest it with her grandmother.
"Lady Tyrell, leaving so soon?"
Just as Margaery turned to leave, Lynn's voice drifted from behind her.
Margaery paused.
She turned around, a hint of appropriate confusion on her face.
"I showed my sincerity."
Lynn walked slowly to her, his tall figure enveloping her once more.
"So, where is yours?"
His gaze was burning and direct.
Unabashedly falling on Margaery's beautiful, moving face.
Margaery's heart skipped a beat.
Of course she understood what Lynn meant.
She bit her full lower lip, a trace of slyness flashing in her always-smiling eyes.
The next second, she suddenly stood on tiptoe and pressed a feather-light kiss on Lynn's cheek.
"This is the deposit."
Margaery's voice carried a hint of maidenly shyness, but her eyes were bold and fiery.
Before Lynn could react, she retreated lightly like a startled butterfly, opening the distance between them.
She blinked at Lynn, the corners of her mouth curling into a soul-stirring arc.
"As for the rest..."
"Come ask me for it after you win the duel, help Sansa sit on the Master of Coin's chair, and develop that magical canning."
With that, Margaery smiled slightly at Lynn, then lingered no more, lifting her skirt and disappearing elegantly and quickly out the door.
Lynn touched his cheek where he had been kissed; the fragrance of roses and the warmth of the girl seemed to linger there.
He couldn't help but chuckle.
This Rose of Highgarden was truly a cunning little fox.
But he liked it.
The game was more interesting played this way.