Two days later he went back to Lannisport.
The cover was port tax.
Blum had written it.
Tywin looked at the first line and flicked his fingers.
Go.
The white house was unlocked.
Downstairs was empty.
Bread on the table.
A dish of oil.
Two clean settings.
The panel took it in.
[Residence live.
Seventy-two hours.
State stable.
No flight.] Lyonel unbuckled the sword, hung it by the door, and took the stairs.
The bedroom stood open.
Shae sat at the window with the alphabet on her knees.
Quill.
Half a bottle of ink.
The parchment was crooked with the letter L.
She looked up.
The quill stopped.
“You’re here.” “I am.
How many.” “…L.” “First letter in Lannister.
Good.” She turned the sheet.
Two rows of them.
The second cleaner than the first.
“I didn’t sit on my hands.” “I didn’t say you did.” He pulled a chair, hooked his heels on the rung, and leaned in over the page.
“Tomorrow you start the rest of the name.
You’ll need it on a report.” “Your name.” “Mine.” She looked at the parchment.
The nib hung and did not drop.
Three seconds of quiet.
Surf under the window.
Steady.
Like breath.
Lyonel sat back.
“Anyone come.” “An old woman with food.” “Who else.” “Lord Blum.
Once.” “And.” “He said you are the maddest thing in the Rock.” Lyonel smiled.
“He isn’t wrong.” She set the quill down, closed the book, and turned in the chair.
The fear was gone from the black eyes.
The watchfulness had thinned.
Something softer sat under it.
“Lyonel.” “Mm.” “Why don’t you touch me.” He kept his hands on his knees and looked at her.
“Because I don’t need one night.” “I need you willing to bleed for the work.” She tipped her head.
Hair slid back.
The bruise had gone from purple-black to yellow with a green edge.
“And if I am willing.” His fingers paused.
Half a beat.
“You’ve known me five days.” “Five is enough.” “Enough for what.” “To know if a man is worth it.” She stood.
Bare feet on the boards.
She came to the chair.
Half a head taller than him sitting.
Candlelight in the black.
“In the village a smith’s boy said he liked me.” “Before he put a hand on me he made me drink three bowls.” “I broke his nose.
Left it crooked.” Lyonel looked up and failed to kill the smile.
“Lucky boy.” “Why.” “A nose sets.
You kick the rest off and it does not grow back.” She stared.
Then she laughed.
Hard enough that she had to catch the chairback beside his shoulder.
The panel slid through the corner of his sight.
[Fear → 1.
Trust 75 / 100.] [Advise: physical contact to lock bond.
Execute?] He killed the glass.
Not on a prompt.
He took the hand on the chair.
Fingertips cold.
Ink on them.
“Sit.” He nodded at the bed.
She froze a second, then sat.
He dropped off the chair and crouched until their eyes met.
“Shae.” “Mm.” “Two roads.” “First.
You take five hundred dragons and you walk.
Anywhere you like.
I don’t chase.” “Second.
You stay.
You run Lannisport for me.
What I put in your hand later is more than five hundred.” She looked down at the four-foot boy on the floor.
Big head.
Crowded face.
One green eye.
One black.
Nothing about the look belonged to fifteen.
She had seen him with a sword.
She had also seen him on the floor of the Sail, two fingers under her chin, almost no weight.
“The second.” “You’re sure.” “I am.” He stood.
She looked up.
Still short.
The look was not the look you give a dwarf.
It was the look you give a man who had just put a chair under the sky and stood on it.
She put her arms around his waist.
Narrow.
Ribs under the linen.
She set her face against his chest.
“You’re not sleeping with me.” “I will.” “On what.” She tipped her head up.
“You’re a Lannister of the Rock.
I came out of a house.
That is how it works.” “It works how I say it works.” He cupped the back of her skull and put her face back to the cloth.
“When you can recite every captain’s pillow talk in this port, we talk about the rest.” The laugh came muffled into his shirt.
“That may be soon.” “How soon.” “I hear well.” Surf hit the stone outside.
The candle jumped.
Her arms tightened.
He did not move.
He stood and let her use the chest.
Shoulders went loose.
Breath went long.
Then it settled.
Almost under.
The panel wrote soft.
[Harem 1 — Shae: bond locked.
Permanent.] [Loyalty — active on target.
Shae 95 / 100.
Betrayal closed.] [Bonus draw issued.] He fished the card from the pocket of the work.
Blue turned.
[Congratulations.
Blue entry acquired: Close Bond] Effect: Emotional exchange with a bound target: trust +10 per contact.
Shared work speed +25%.
He looked at the card.
Then at the girl going slack against him.
“…I came out ahead.” Sleep-thick.
“Ahead of what.” “Nothing.
Sleep.” The surf filled the room.
The candle died on its own.
Dark.
He was still there.
One hand at the back of her head.
The other on the bedframe.
Night Sight laid the room out clean.
Three days of alphabets in the corner.
Half a cup of water.
On the sill, a fist of wildflowers.
Small.
Purple-white.
Pulled from outside the walls.
He gave them two seconds.
Then he shut the glass.
His mouth moved.
No one else in the room to hear it.
“Five hundred dragons for a girl who will not sell me.” “Theft.”