Chapter 49

I was still reeling from the conversation with Ser Gerold, my mind swimming through the implications, when someone stepped into my path.

I almost jumped.

"There you are!" Gerion Lannister stood in the hallway, his one good eye bright with concern. "I've been looking for you all over. We had practice scheduled at dawn, remember? I was even earlier than the sun this time, as my mentor commanded."

He paused, finally getting a good look at me in the morning light streaming through the open shutters.

"What the bloody hell happened to you?" His eye focused on my bruised face. "You look like you've been trampled by a Dothraki horde. Did someone try to kill you?"

I shook myself, trying to organize my thoughts. "Uh, nothing much. Just had a strange encounter with a Kingsguard."

"A Kingsguard?" Gerion suddenly laughed, the sound echoing in the corridor. "Must you always get yourself chest-deep in madness, my friend? Seriously, what happened? Which one was foolish enough to take you on?"

I turned to him, considering. "You really want to know?"

Gerion nodded ferociously. "Absolutely. This sounds like it'll be a good story."

"Very well, then." I started walking, not caring much where I was going as long as it was away from the White Sword Tower. "Help me out with a few things and I'll tell you everything."

Gerion raised an eyebrow, falling into step beside me. "Does it involve fighting another Kingsguard?" He pointed to his eyepatch. "As we've established, I'm in no position to help with that particular activity."

"Not this time, no." I picked up my pace. "Let's just say I've had enough of King's Landing for a good long while."

xxx

Under different circumstances, the tour of the city we embarked on would’ve been rather enjoyable.

Gerion helped me secure horses from the Tower of the Hand's stables and we rode out through the River Gate and into the chaos of King's Landing proper.

As we navigated the crowded streets, I told him the whole story. Going to the White Sword Tower to retrieve my sword. Ser Gerold Hightower answering the door looking like I'd personally insulted his mother. The brutal fist fight in the hidden courtyard.

"He thought you came to mock him about stealing his sword?" Gerion wheezed with laughter, nearly falling off his horse. "Gods, that's beautiful. I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of the White Bull’s anger."

"It gets worse," I said.

So I told him about Malora Hightower's letter to her grand uncle asking him to keep an eye on me. Ser Gerold’s interrogation about my intentions toward his grand-niece. The whole ordeal.

Naturally, I left out the glass candle. That was a secret that needed to stay buried.

By the time I finished, we'd reached the docks. The smell of salt and fish and tar was overwhelming, mixed with the general stink of the city. Hundreds of ships crowded the harbor, merchant cogs and fishing boats and war galleys from a dozen different ports.

"So now the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard thinks you're courting a Hightower?" Gerion summarized, still grinning. "And he threatened to torture you if you dishonor her?"

"That's the gist of it, yes."

"This is amazing. You have the best luck with women." He wiped tears from his good eye. "First Ashara Dayne asking about you in Sunspear. Now Malora Hightower writing letters. What's next? The queen herself?"

An image of a silver-haired goddess came to mind, only to be shattered by the mad cackles of her husband. A shudder ran through me.

"Don't even joke about that," I muttered.

Without spotting any of my house’s own ships, it took us half an hour of searching before I found what I needed—a merchant captain willing to take on a passenger. The ship was called the Golden Arrow, bound for Driftmark and then down the coast with stops at several ports including Tarth.

The bastard asked three gold dragons for a cabin. Highway robbery for a short voyage, but I paid it. Worth every coin to get out of this city.

With passage secured, we rode to the markets, where I enlisted Gerion on helping me pick out gifts for my family.

For Lord Selwyn, we found a fine leather-bound book on the history of the Stormlands. For my mother, a bolt of deep blue silk from Yi Ti that cost more than the ship passage. For Alysanne, a beautifully carved wooden harp. For Arianne, I selected a small collection of colored inks and fine paper for writing.

"What about the lovely Lady Cersei?" Gerion asked as we loaded the purchases onto our horses. "Surely you should bring her something as well. A token of your esteem."

I stared at him. "Why would I do that?"

"Because my dear niece has clearly taken an interest in you." He grinned. "Trust me, Cersei only gets angry when she’s interested. And because it's good politics to maintain friendly relations with the daughter of the Hand of the King, no?"

After all the talk about marriage with Ser Gerold, the idea of buying gifts for an eleven-year-old Cersei Lannister felt deeply disturbing. I didn’t think I’d survive another interrogation so soon, not one run by Tywin Lannister. 

But Gerion was adamant, so I selected a small silver hair clasp shaped like a lion. Expensive enough to show respect, practical enough not to seem like I was courting a child.

Gods, this city was making me paranoid.

Our next stop was the Great Sept of Baelor. Gerion insisted.

I'd seen it from a distance but never entered. Up close, it was even more impressive. Seven crystal towers rose into the sky, each representing one of the Seven. The sept itself was built of white marble that seemed to glow in the afternoon sun.

Inside, it was breathtaking. Light streamed through stained glass windows, painting the floors in rainbows. The ceilings soared impossibly high, decorated with intricate carvings and gold leaf. Hundreds of candles burned before statues of the Seven.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Gerion said quietly as we stood in the main hall.

"It is," I admitted. 

I had always wondered about the Seven compared to the other gods of this world. The Lord of Light had certainly shown his teeth from time to time, and the magic of the First Men was undeniable. Who could say if that was a natural thing or a power bestowed by the old gods.

But the Seven? Not a peep from them, yet they were still the most dominant religion of the continent. There had to be something about them, right? I would be a fool to disrespect them, at least, for both supernatural and political reasons.

So after admiring the hall, we first lit candles before the Warrior and the Father, then Gerion also spent a long time in prayer before the Maiden, his lips moving silently. I tried to catch what he was saying, hoping for some clue about Princess Elia, but he kept his voice too low.

When I tried to ask him directly as we left—"So, how’s your own search for a wife?"—he just smiled and changed the subject.

"Some things are private, my friend. Even from you."

Fair enough.

By the time we returned to the Red Keep, the sun was beginning its descent toward the western horizon. We'd been out most of the day, and I was exhausted. My face throbbed. My knuckles ached. I wanted nothing more than to collapse in bed.

But first, I needed to tell Lord Steffon I was leaving.

Gerion and I found him already installed in sprawling apartments in one of the Red Keep's visitor wings. He and his retinue were occupying a good half of the floor, twenty knights and their attendants, who had been sent by ship before we even left for King’s Landing alongside Lord Steffon's own household staff.

The Lord Paramount himself had his own solar and waiting room and bedchamber. The whole deal. A guard at the door recognized us and sent word inside, and we weren't made to wait longer than a couple of minutes before being ushered into the solar.

Lord Steffon sat behind a desk covered in papers and correspondence, looking more tired than usual with dark circles around his eyes. When we entered, his grave expression brightened a bit,  as if he welcomed the distraction from heavier matters.

“My lord,” I said, bowing. Ser Gerion nodded as well, head low.

"Ser Galladon. Ser Gerion." Smiling, he gestured to the chairs. "To what do I owe the pleasure? And what in seven hells happened to your face, lad?"

"Sparring accident," I said, which was technically true. Grateful to be off my feet, plopped myself down with a sigh. "My lord, I wanted to inform you that I've booked passage back to Tarth. I'll be leaving in two days."

Steffon nodded slowly. "After the events in the great hall yesterday, I think that's prudent. Best to let things settle before you spend more time at court." He paused. "Though I'll be sorry to see you go. You've made quite an impression during your stay."

"That's one way to put it," I muttered.

"I'll be leaving as well in a few moons," Steffon continued. He glanced at Gerion, then back to me. "The king has tasked me with a voyage to Essos. To the Free Cities, and perhaps beyond. To Volantis specifically." His lips thinned.

My heart jumped. Lord Steffon hadn’t told us the reason behind the voyage, but I knew why. This was it. The opportunity I'd been hoping for.

I leaned forward. "My lord, I'd like to join you on that voyage."

Both Steffon and Gerion looked at me in surprise.

"Join me?" Steffon asked. "Why?"

"Trade contacts," I said. "I'm trying to expand House Tarth's commercial interests. We've had some success attracting Essosi traders to Dawnrest, but I want to establish direct relationships in the Free Cities. Cut out the middlemen. If I'm traveling with you, under a Lord Paramount's banner, I'll have access to magisters and merchants I could never reach on my own."

Steffon considered this, stroking his beard. "It is not a terrible idea. Growing our presence in the east would only strengthen us. And it would give me another trustworthy sword should we run into trouble."

"I’d join you, if you’ll have me," Gerion announced.

We both turned to him.

He shrugged. "What? I've always wanted to see Volantis. And someone needs to keep you two out of trouble."

"Lord Tywin would approve, you think? " I asked.

"He’ll survive without me for a few months." Gerion's expression was determined. "I'll head to Tarth in a few weeks after I square everything away with my lord brother. We can travel together when Lord Steffon's fleet comes around."

Steffon laughed. "Well then. It seems I'll have quite the party for this voyage. Very well. I'll send word when we're ready to depart. Probably three or four moons from now. We'll stop at Tarth on the way, pick you both up."

We spent another hour discussing details. What I should bring, what to expect in Volantis, which magisters were worth approaching and which were known to be hostile to Westerosi traders. Gerion seemed to know more about it than both of us Stormlanders.

By the time we left, full darkness had fallen, and I barely made it back to my chambers before collapsing.

xxx

That night, just as I was starting to fall asleep, someone knocked on my door.

I opened it, expecting a servant with a message or perhaps Gerion with some forgotten detail about tomorrow's plans.

Instead, a woman stood there.

She was beautiful in the way that professional beauties tended to be with daring make up and painted lips perfectly designed to appeal. Her dark hair cascaded over her pale shoulders. A silk dress that was less clothing and more suggestion, stretching across gorgeous skin, covering just enough to highlight what lay underneath.

"Good evening, my lord," she purred, already moving toward the doorway. "I was told you might appreciate some company tonight."

I was so dumbstruck for a second that I almost let her in. My sleepy mind had completely shut down, caught between surprise and a very base biological reaction.

Then panic set in.

Was this Melisandre? Under some kind of glamour or illusion charm? Hoping to get access to my potentially magic juices in the old-fashioned way? Or was it Ser Gerold Hightower testing my virtue before the supposed wedding with his grand-niece? Some kind of medieval purity test?

I closed the door in her face and locked it. Hard.

"My lord?" Her voice came through the wood, confused. "Did I—is something wrong?"

"No thank you!" I called back. "I'm fine! Very tired! Goodnight!"

I heard her hesitate on the other side of the door. Then footsteps retreating down the corridor. 

My heart pounding, I sat back on the bed, hands over my head.

Safe to say I barely slept that night. Every sound in the corridor made me jump. Every shadow seemed to hold a threat. My mind raced through possibilities, each more paranoid than the last.

By morning, I felt worse than I had after the fight with Ser Gerold.

xxx

I was accosted right away when I ventured out, heading toward the practice yard more out of habit than any real desire to train.

Gerion and Lord Steffon were waiting. They pulled me aside before I could even grab a practice sword.

"So," Steffon asked, his eyes twinkling. "How was it?"

I frowned. "How was what?"

"Come now," Gerion said, smiling encouragingly. "No need to be shy. We're all men here. We've been there. The expectation. The nerves."

"A man's first is no small thing, son." Steffon hummed sagely.

Understanding crashed over me like a bucket of ice water.

"It was you?" I stared at them. "You sent that woman to my room?"

Steffon gave me a paternal smile. "Gerion here told me of your... plight. Your inexperience. We thought we'd help you out. So, tell us. How was it?"

I let out a long breath. I'd barely gotten any sleep because of them. Because of this stupid right-of-passage thing. I didn't know whether to be relieved or furious.

Relieved won, but only barely.

"Nothing happened," I said, thinking quickly. "I drank a bit too much thinking about what happened in the great hall, so by the time she knocked on my door I barely got out of bed. Couldn’t go through with it even if I wanted to."

Steffon nodded. "No need to explain further, son," he said, bringing me into a sideways hug. "It happens to every man. Cassana could tell you how many times I've let her down after one too many drinks."

He lifted up a finger, then slowly brought it down like a wilting flower getting smaller and smaller until it was barely visible.

"Nothing to be ashamed of, mind you. Perfectly natural."

Gerion nodded sympathetically from the side. "I have my stories too. There was this one time in Lannisport with this merchant's daughter..." he trailed off like it was a sweet memory. “Ah, Helena.”

My face throbbed. The swelling from yesterday's fight had gone down some, but not enough. Something in the back of my eyes was pulsing too, and it made every expression hurt.

I opened my mouth to answer, to try to salvage some dignity from this conversation. Closed it. Realized there was absolutely no winning here. Just grunted in pain.

"You know what?" I said. "Sure. Why not. Thank you, my lord. That gives me some peace of mind."

I patted them both on the back and gave them the most pained smile I could manage.

"I think I'll actually go back to my rooms and get some rest. Long day ahead tomorrow."

The older men only gave me sympathetic nods as I walked away.

Behind me, I heard Steffon's voice, meant to be comforting: "Happens to the best of us, lad! Nothing to worry about!"

I wanted to die.

xxx

I spent the rest of my time in King's Landing getting food sent to my rooms. Avoided everyone. Avoided everything.

Gerion knocked a few times, but I claimed I was still recovering from the fight with Ser Gerold. Lord Steffon sent a message about dinner, which I politely declined citing the same excuse.

I just wanted to go home.

On the morning of my departure, I left quietly. No grand farewells or speeches. No last minute goodbyes. Just collected my things, made my way to the docks in the pre-dawn darkness, and boarded the Golden Arrow.

The captain looked at my face—still showing the remnants of bruises—and wisely asked no questions.

As King's Landing receded into the distance, the Red Keep growing smaller against the morning sky, I finally allowed myself to relax.

I was going home. Back to Tarth. Back to problems I understood. Projects I could actually control. No more prophecies. No more fire priestesses. No more marriage plots. No more well-meaning lords trying to cure my virginity.

There was so much to be done back home. The expansion of Dawnrest. Training the Companions. Preparing for the voyage to Volantis.

And dealing with my father and Arianne. The conversation about the glass candle and what had really happened in the Weeping Town. That was going to be fun. 

But at least it would be honest. No political maneuvering or hidden agendas.

Just work. Just family. For better or worse.

The Golden Arrow caught a good wind, and we made excellent time down the coast. Within hours, King's Landing was just a memory behind us, and I couldn't have been happier about it.

xxx

Four Days Later

Lord Steffon had sent a letter ahead of me, so one of our knights was waiting at the dock when the Golden Arrow pulled into Dawnrest's harbor. Ser Gareth, a gruff man in his forties who'd served my father since before I was born, had horses readied and saddled to go.

It was close to dusk. The town of Dawnrest was painted in reds and oranges, the setting sun turning the whitewashed buildings gold. All the new construction I'd commissioned before leaving stood out—fresh timber and stone, scaffolding still up on a few structures. The expanded harbor looked good, better than I'd hoped. More ships than before crowded the docks.

It looked like something straight out of an oil painting. Beautiful. Peaceful. Home. 

I did not stop to admire it for long.

We rode straight to Evenfall Hall without ceremony, taking the coast road that wound up the cliffs. On the way up, behind our looming walls, the castle’s three towers rose against the darkening sky, their pale stone catching the last rays of sunlight.

Guards at the gate recognized me immediately, calling out greetings I answered with a raised hand. I dismounted in the courtyard, tossed the reins to a stable boy as I patted the boy on his head, and headed inside.

The first thing I did was stop by my father's solar.

Knocking twice, I waited for the muted response from within before pushing open the door and walking in. Selwyn looked up from his desk, pen in hand, papers strewn across the surface. For a moment we just stared at each other.

"Galladon," he said finally. "I thought you'd be a while longer still."

I felt stuck for a moment. Just looking at him sitting there, exactly as I'd seen him countless times before. I remembered coming here as a child and just watching Selwyn Tarth work. He'd looked like a giant then. Impossibly large and strong and wise.

He still looked strong. But not giant. Just a man. A good man, doing his best.

"Galladon?" Selwyn asked, frowning. "What is it? Is it about what happened at King's Landing with Elmar Whitehead? Lord Steffon's letter mentioned it in passing."

"No," I said. "Not that." 

I wet my lips, trying to find the words.

"I just... I wanted to tell you that I do trust you."

Selwyn froze slightly in his seat. His hand with the pen went still. Something shifted in his expression. Surprise, maybe. Or hope.

"Tomorrow morning," I continued. "First thing. We should have a family meeting. All of us. Even the girls. Especially the girls."

He set down his pen slowly. "Very well. Tomorrow morning it is."

I made to leave, my hand on the door.

"Oh, and Galladon?"

I turned.

Selwyn smiled. Small, but genuine. "Welcome home, son."

xxx

Walking with a renewed sense of purpose, I headed deeper into the keep.

A servant crossed by me in the corridor—old Steward Willam’s assistant, a young man named Pate. Not my Pate, mind you, but another one. Common name. 

I stopped him and quickly asked about everyone else’s whereabouts.

"My lord," he said, bowing. "Your lady mother is holding court with some of the castle's ladies. Lady Alysanne is with her. And Lady Arianne..." He paused. "Lady Arianne begged off, citing illness."

Of course she had.

"Where is she?"

"The eastern balcony, I believe."

I found her exactly where Pate said. Curled up in a chair on a balcony overlooking the Straits of Tarth, a book in her lap. The last light of day painted her hair copper-gold. She didn't look sick. She looked perfectly fine.

"Brother," she said, not bothering to look up as I walked in.

So I didn’t bother sugar-coating it.

"I spoke with Father just now," I told her. "Tomorrow, we tell him and Mother and Alysanne everything."

“What?” Arianne turned on me, slamming the book shut. "No. No, Gal. We can't tell them."

"Of course we can. And we will."

Her eyes turned defiant. That stubborn set to her jaw that I knew all too well. "I won't do it. Absolutely not. And you can't make me."

She crossed her arms, glaring at me beneath furrowed brows.

I felt no anger toward her. Not even annoyance. Just a kind of sad certainty about what needed to happen next.

I shook my head, more to myself than to her.

"I've been unfair to you, Arianne," I said. "I've let you believe you can get away with anything you want just because you're my little sister. Let you believe that you don't have any responsibility to anyone but yourself."

"That's not true!" Her voice rose. "I've asked you a thousand times to include me in things. I told you I want to help, but you keep treating me like a child!"

I nodded. "Yes. And by treating you like a child, I've allowed you to keep acting like one. Without consequences. Without responsibilities. Without thought to what your choices and actions will mean for the future of our house."

"Nobody cares about the future of our house more than I do," she said. Her hands were shaking slightly.

"Then why are you here?"

That stopped her. "What do you mean?"

"Why are you here and not with our mother and Alysanne holding court with the rest of the ladies?"

She scoffed. "Because it's stupid. I never go to these things."

"Oh, I know you don't,” I said. “And that's exactly what I'm talking about. Our parents have their share of guilt for letting you skip your duties like this. As I have for not calling them out on it.”  She made as if to speak but I raised a hand. “And you're wrong anyway, Arianne. If you're as smart as you think you are, then you know why these social events are important. Our house cannot survive without our knights. Our bannermen."

"Those aren't our bannermen," she protested. "They're just—"

"Their wives and daughters and nieces?" I finished for her. "Do you think our mother's opinion isn't important to our lord father? Do you think that Lord Selwyn wouldn't retaliate if his wife were mistreated by Lady Baratheon somehow? He wouldn't rise in rebellion, perhaps, but there are other ways to undermine your liege lord. These things matter."

"I just..." Her voice went quieter. "I don't like it. I don't like how they gossip. How they fake their smiles. How their mouths say one thing while their auras say another."

"Aye, maybe you don't," I allowed. "Maybe it's hard to stomach. Maybe it's annoying. But it is your duty. It's one of the ways you can help your house. It's not magic, true. Not a grand, exciting scheme. But keeping good relations with our vassals is ten times more important than any of that."

I paused. She looked conflicted, her jaw working.

"Two months ago our mother almost died, Ari. We all almost died. None of it would have happened if we'd all been honest with each other. If we trusted each other." I held her gaze. "If you'd told me about what you saw in Lenora Whitehead's aura. If we'd told our parents about it. Trust, Ari. Trust is the foundation, and our house cannot stand if the foundation is weak."

"I trust you," she said in almost a whisper.

"You don't,” I said, and she reeled back like I’d slapped her. “Not really. You're thirteen and you think you know better than everyone else. You used the glass candle three times when I told you not to. Ari, you were almost dead when Pate brought you into the Weeping Town."

"But I had to do it!" she cried. "I had to help Jace and the others!"

"I can understand doing something rash in an emergency. I really can. I'm rash myself." I spread my hands. "But you do plenty more than recklessness. You snuck onto the ship instead of talking to me or our father. That wasn't an emergency. You waited until I was busy at camp and used the candle alone."

"You wouldn't have let me do it otherwise!" She was crying now, angry tears streaming down her face. "You'd have tried to protect me and told me it was too dangerous or something stupid, and then you wouldn't have known how to get into the town and Mother would be dead and you'd still be torturing guards in some forest!"

She was shaking. Her breath coming hard and trembling. 

"You don't know that," I said gently. "That's the difference, Arianne. I trusted you. If you had such good reasons for using it, if it was so important, then you should have come to me and told me about it. Made your case. And if it's so obvious that it's the right thing to do, then you have to trust that I'll listen to you."

More tears fell. She turned away from me, and I did my best not to go to her and hug her. I hated seeing her like this. But I'd hate myself more if we didn't have this conversation now. If I didn't make her understand how important this truly was.

"We're meeting tomorrow morning at Father's solar," I said. "I won't force you to be there, Ari. But I won't let another Weeping Town happen again because I didn't trust my family enough."

I left her there on the balcony, the book forgotten on the table, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs, and imagined that’s how my father felt when he left me at Storm’s End.

I could only hope she’d come to the same conclusion I had.

xxx

The next morning came early.

I woke before dawn, unable to sleep longer. Dressed in simple clothes, I made my way to my father's solar as the first light was beginning to paint the eastern sky.

My parents were already there. Sitting together on the small couch by the window, speaking in quiet tones.

My mother smiled when she saw me. "Galladon."

I'd spoken to her briefly the night before alongside the other ladies at her court. But it had been a formal thing due to the company. Just pleasantries and welcomes.

Now she rose and embraced me properly. "My boy. You've grown again. I swear you get taller every time I blink."

She was wearing her hair down this morning, falling loose past her shoulders. Her pregnancy was starting to show a small bump beneath her dress. Maybe four months along now, if I had to guess.

Instead of withdrawing like I'd expected after her ordeal, Addison Tarth had shown a new exuberance for life. She'd even begun telling everyone she wanted five more children, though I thought that was more a joke to mess with her husband than anything else.

Still, there were cracks. I'd noted how she barely left the castle in the past few months. Despite her love for riding or walking around the fields, she hadn't ventured far from Evenfall Hall. She used to visit Dawnrest weekly before too, but she hadn't been down to the town since we first arrived from the Weeping Town.

I imagined it would take a longer while still before she felt fully safe again.

"You look resplendent, Mother," I told her.

Her eyes danced. "I'm quite curious about what you have planned for today. Your father says it's important. A family meeting." She made it sound ominous. "Should I be expecting some exciting news? Found a girl you liked in King’s Landing?"

Selwyn watched quietly from the couch, only raising an eyebrow.

I shook my head at her antics. "You'll see."

Alysanne arrived next, her blonde hair worn in a neat braid same as yesterday. She looked prim and proper despite the early hour, her sky-blue dress perfectly arranged, not a hair out of place.

"Good morning," she said brightly, kissing Mother's cheek, squeezing our father’s arm, and hugging me like a doll. "What's all this about?"

"We're waiting for your sister," Selwyn said.

Minutes ticked by. The seventh bell tolled.

I started to think Arianne didn't plan to come. That I'd pushed too hard last night. That she was going to force me to do this without her, make me the villain who revealed her secrets.

Then the door opened.

Arianne stepped inside. Her eyes were red-rimmed. Either she hadn’t slept well or she'd been crying recently. Probably both. But her jaw was set with determination.

A soft smile came to my face. Pride swelled in my chest.

With everyone inside, Father rose and went to the door. He stepped into the corridor and I heard him giving quiet instructions to the guards.

"Move to the ends of the hallway. Both directions. Don't let anyone through unless it's an emergency. No servants, no knights, no one. Understood?"

"Yes, my lord."

He came back in, locked the door behind him, and sat back down at his desk.

"Well," Selwyn said, looking around at all of us. "Who wants to begin?"

Before I could open my mouth, Arianne jumped to her feet, fists balled at her sides. She was clearly nervous. She looked around the room, jaw clenched. So when her gaze flicked toward me, I gave her an encouraging nod.

Then she took a deep breath, and proceeded to tell them everything she’d already told me before.

About her strange childhood dreams that felt more like visions. How she'd been seeing colors around people her whole life but thought everyone could. How that aura vision exploding in power at Casterly Rock was what caused her fainting spells.

When she told them what she saw around Lenora Whitehead, those sickly, rotting greens and purples that screamed danger, Mother teared up.

She crossed the room in three quick steps and pulled Arianne into a fierce hug.

"I'm sorry," Mother said, her voice breaking. "I'm so sorry for not believing you. For thinking you were just being difficult when you said you didn't like her."

That broke Arianne completely. She started openly crying in our mother's arms, her shoulders shaking.

I took over after that to give them some time.

I told them about Oldtown after the tourney. About meeting Malora Hightower in that strange encounter with her and her brother at the inn. About gaining the glass candle—and I had to explain what a glass candle even was, what the artifact supposedly could do. I even told them about the first vision I'd seen in it on my voyage back to Tarth, the two ships that turned out to be the pirates Lenora hired to kill me. 

Then Arianne started again, Mother still by her side with an arm around her shoulders.

She spoke of her terrible dream the night Mother was taken. The white-headed giants pulling the sun and moon from the skies. Hearing Mother’s cries for help in some distant tower. And timidly, her voice barely above a whisper, she told them how she'd asked me not to tell Father about it. To lie and say I'd gained the knowledge of Mother's kidnapping through some other means.

"I was scared," she said. "Scared Father would think I was mad. Or that he'd lock me up to keep me safe. I just... I just wanted to help."

What surprised me was that Selwyn Tarth didn't interrupt even once. He didn't shake his head. Didn't outwardly show disappointment or anger. He only listened quietly, hands folded before him on the desk. His face was carefully neutral, but I could see him processing everything. Holding back from exploding in either anger or anguish. Trying to understand.

Arianne and I both spoke of the Weeping Town then.

Starting with her sneaking onto the ship. Learning she could use the glass candle, though not without terrible consequences—nosebleeds, seizures, a weakness that left her barely able to stand. Then the events that preceded the rescue. The visions she'd seen. The glimpses of the drainage tunnel that had gotten me into the town.

When it was all finally done, I felt both exhausted and relieved at the same time. But I couldn't stop now. As everyone else was still trying to make sense of the whole thing, I spoke up.

"There's something else," I said.

Alysanne, who'd been listening to everything like it was the best mummer's show she'd ever attended, let out a choked laugh. "What else could there possibly be?"

It could be, I realized, the perfect opportunity to share some of my future knowledge without talking about other worlds and books and the impossibility of it all.

That particular secret I planned to take to the grave.

"Back in King's Landing, I saw something else in the glass candle," I said. "Visions of the past. Maybe of the future as well." I met each of their eyes in turn. "There are two things our family needs to prepare for. First, a war is coming. Not now. Not in the following moons. But soon. In a matter of a few years, war will engulf Westeros. I know it deep in my bones."

"Against who?" Mother asked. Her grip tightened around Arianne.

"Ourselves," I said. "There will be a civil war the likes of which only the Dance of Dragons could compare. Targaryens and Starks and Baratheons. Everyone. It will tear the realm apart."

"Gods," Mother breathed.

Arianne spoke up, her voice still rough from crying. "What's the second thing?"

I took a breath. This was the hard part. The part that would make them think I'd lost my mind.

"The Others. The Long Night,” I said. “It's all real. It happened eight thousand years ago and it will happen again within our lifetimes. When the time comes, we must be ready for it."

Arianne gave me a strange look. Mother sighed almost in relief, as if she thought I was joking now, that the serious part was over.

"Be serious, Gal," Alysanne said with a scoff.

I opened my mouth to argue, to try to convince them. To reveal more of what I'd seen and what I knew that could no doubt change their minds. 

But then Selwyn Tarth let out a long, slow sigh. 

"I see," he said quietly.

All heads turned toward him. Even I was surprised.

Father stood, moving to the window. He looked out at the Straits of Tarth, the morning sun stretching golden over the war.

"If it’s come to this," he said, "then I suppose there is something you all should know about House Tarth. Something not even your mother knows."

"Selwyn?" Lady Addison said, taken aback. Confused and maybe a little hurt that there were secrets between them.

I stared at my father, wide-eyed.

"It's something my father taught me," Selwyn continued, still looking out the window. "And my grandfather before him. And all the lords of Tarth until time immemorial." He turned to face us. "It's time I passed it on to my children as well."