The next morning.
Soft sunlight filtered through the shutters and fell across the bed. The sheets were slightly rumpled, holding the lazy warmth of the night before.
Galladon slept on his side, blonde hair falling across his forehead. His arm rested gently around Carina's waist. She lay curled against him, her chestnut hair spilling across the pillow, mingling with his. Her cheek rested lightly against his chest, breathing soft and steady.
Carina's eyelashes trembled as she slowly woke.
Realizing she was still in Galladon's arms, her cheeks warmed faintly. For a moment, she simply lay there, listening to his breathing, enjoying the quiet intimacy.
Carefully, she lifted his hand from her waist. After a brief hesitation, she gently placed it aside and slipped from the bed without waking him.
Wearing only a thin nightgown, she moved quietly across the room, dressed herself, and passed through the small connecting door into her cubicle.
From a shelf, she took down several small oil-paper packets and carefully opened them—bay leaves, tansy flowers, and black seeds.
She prepared moon tea.
Moon tea was a contraceptive brew.
Three months earlier, after she and Galladon first crossed that boundary, she had privately sought Maester Amos's help. He had warned her that moon tea should not be taken more than three times a month, or it could cause lasting harm.
She crushed the herbs gently, placed them in a ceramic cup, poured warm water, and stirred until the liquid turned light brown.
No one had forced her to do this.
But she understood her place.
If she became pregnant now, it would only bring trouble to Galladon.
When Galladon awoke, Carina had already prepared his clothes and luggage.
After dressing, he opened the window—and immediately smelled rich malt in the air.
In the distance, smoke still rose from the small tower where old Bayver worked.
"Were they up all night?" Galladon muttered with a faint smile.
Given his father's personality and Bayver's excitement, it was entirely possible.
The Escort
At breakfast, Lord Selwyn was already seated at the long table. Brienne sat beside him with reddened eyes and a pout.
After the meal, Claude entered with four guards.
Two Galladon already knew:
Stoin, an elite ranger of Dusk Hall
Quill, the stablemaster's son—massive, strong, skilled with horses
The other two were new.
One was a lean, middle-aged man carrying a long black bow. A faint scar ran from his brow to his cheek. His eyes were calm, but a subtle smile always lingered at his lips.
"Barius," Selwyn said. "The finest archer on Tarth Island."
Galladon had heard of him. A fisherman turned hunter who rarely missed, famed for striking prey through the eye without damaging the hide.
The final man stood apart—olive-toned skin, short red hair, a neat beard, and a slender rapier at his waist.
"This," Selwyn said, "is Sario Darinor of Braavos. A Water Dancer."
Sario gave a graceful Braavosi salute.
Galladon raised an eyebrow.
A Water Dancer? Like Syrio Forel in the stories.
Why would such a man serve House Tarth?
Selwyn smiled faintly.
"Sario fell in love with the Sea Lord's woman. He could no longer remain in Braavos."
The room went quiet.
Then Barius gave a slow thumbs-up.
Sario grinned. "She was forced to marry that old Sea Lord. We are true lovers."
Galladon almost laughed.
To steal the Sea Lord of Braavos's mistress—and survive—was either madness or courage.
Likely both.
Braavos' influence extended across the Free Cities, but it did not reach Westeros easily. Tarth Island was a safe refuge.
Unless the Faceless Men were hired.
But such an assassination would cost more than finding a dozen new mistresses.
Departure
Soon they boarded the Evening Star at Sapphire Harbor.
The tri-masted ship bore House Tarth's crest upon white sails. A carved figurehead of a woman holding a lantern stood at the prow, as if guiding the voyage.
Galladon stood on deck beside Carina and waved to Selwyn and Brienne.
Brienne's eyes were wet, but she held her tears back stubbornly.
The ship set sail.
They would not go to Storm's End, but north along the Narrow Sea—past Dragonstone and Crab Bay—before docking at Maidenpool, then traveling by land to Harrenhal.
Sea travel was safer.
Bandits still roamed the countryside despite the recent campaign against the Kingswood Brotherhood.
After settling in, Galladon resumed his daily training on the rear deck.
Stretching. Side jumps. Weighted push-ups. Sit-ups.
Six years of relentless discipline had refined his regimen.
Harrison, fetching ale, stopped in shock.
He had seen Galladon holding Carina at the rail moments before.
Now he watched him pushing through brutal physical drills.
"My lord… may I train with you?"
Galladon smiled faintly. "My training is intense. I never skip a day. Can you endure it?"
"Yes."
Harrison lasted barely half an hour before collapsing in exhaustion.
Galladon continued another thirty minutes.
Stoin, Quill, Barius, and Sario eventually noticed.
All were impressed.
Few nobles trained like this.
No wonder Galladon had defeated so many knights on Tarth.
Later, at lunch, the ship served grilled pork ribs, fish, ham, rye bread, mushroom soup, wine, and beer.
In the afternoon, Galladon practiced archery with Barius.
Barius shot several seabirds cleanly from the sky.
Galladon's own archery skill was already high—around 69%.
Under Barius's instruction, he corrected subtle errors.
By the end of the session, his proficiency rose to 70%.
A small improvement.
But proof of Barius's mastery.
The voyage to Harrenhal had only just begun.
(End of Chapter 25)
A/N:
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