A Queen in the Net

Loras trusted his sister enough to react before he understood the danger. That trust saved his life.

Harlon's arrow was viciously placed and came from a line Loras had not expected. By the time he saw it, pain had already opened across his chest.

Without Margaery's warning, the shaft would have found his heart instead of passing close enough to steal his breath. Highgarden guards surrounded him at once.

Margaery saw him fall and took a step toward him before Harlon's voice stopped her.

"Move again, and the next one goes through your heart."

Hatred replaced every careful smile she owned.

"Relax," Harlon said, almost kindly. "Your warning spoiled the shot. It passed beside his heart."

She believed him only when Loras forced out a laugh from the ground.

"I am all right, Margaery. It seems his aim is not so perfect after all."

If he could still jest, he was not dying yet.

The other guards advanced. Harlon drew a short tube from his coat, pulled a cord at the base, and raised it above his head. A sharp whistle split the air. Fire burst upward, crackling in the sky like a small storm.

No one outside the Blood Wolf Company knew what the signal meant. That made it more frightening.

Harlon faced dozens of armored men without losing his ease. He commanded mounted archers, but Jebe had trained him well enough that distance was not his only weapon.

The first guard charged with a spear. Harlon did not retreat. His hands closed around the shaft, wrenched it free, and swept the man from the saddle.

"Nothing impossible about that," he said.

The others tried to rush him together. They did not reach him. Men began falling from their horses before the line closed, and only then did the Highgarden guards see the riders coming through the trees.

Cavalry, shieldmen, archers, and a blood-red wolf banner.

"Harlon," a broad man called, "we are here."

"Griffen. Soren." Harlon's stern face finally showed a grin. "You took your sweet time."

The shape of the trap reversed.

Loras was wounded, the Highgarden guards were surrounded, and Margaery understood that cleverness had betrayed her. She had not lured out a raider. She had delivered herself and her brother into Ronan Harrow's hands.

Worse, if the Blood Wolf men understood who they had captured, Father and Renly would soon pay for it.

Griffen did not waste the chance to mock his old friend. "Calling for help? That does not sound like you."

"My shieldmen move so slowly that by the time you arrive, even the bones are cold," Harlon replied. Then he nodded toward Margaery. "But I brought you a gift. Do you know who she is?"

Griffen and Soren were not blind. A woman with that bearing and guards like these had to be highborn. Still, Griffen guessed with a grin, "Unless she is the queen, I do not see why you are so pleased."

Soren stepped closer. "What is your name, my lady?" Margaery held her silence. Harlon and Griffen answered together.

"Margaery Tyrell. Renly's wife."

Soren's eyes lit with envy. "Renly is a luckier man than I thought."

Then Harlon pointed to the wounded knight. "And that is her brother, Ser Loras Tyrell. With both of them in hand, Renly's army will not move easily."

Their excitement sharpened at once. Ronan's order had been to test Stannis when possible, but Stannis had given the Blood Wolf Company a convenient landing ground when he failed to pay in coin. A lonely beach had become their door into Westeros.

With Margaery and Loras captured, raiding no longer mattered. It was time for something larger.

"Gather everyone," Soren said. "No more small prey."

...

Far away, on a calm grey sea, heavy ships rolled toward the coast.

The vessels were broad and deep, carrying men, horses, and the uneasy smell of animals that hated water. On the leading ship, Khal Drogo stood with his hands clenched on the rail.

This was the first time he had asked horse and rider to live above poison water.

Khal Ronan had told him again and again that it was only seawater, that men and mounts could touch it safely so long as they did not drink too much.

Drogo still wanted earth beneath his feet before he trusted any of it. An old captain approached with the care of a man who had learned that flattery could be dangerous.

Drogo cut him off. "I need safe land, Wyllis. Not talk of conquest."

"Yes, Khal Drogo. Of course."

The captain fled the cold look. Drogo turned back to the endless water and thought of the gamble ahead. If this crossing failed, he would have led Dothraki into humiliation.

If it worked, the world of stone castles would learn what a khalasar could do once it reached grass again.

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