With the matter of Lord Stannis concluded, the conversation could end there.
Gawen had already achieved his initial aim; the rest would depend on Petyr's plotting.
This was not so lofty sche of intrigue—exposing the secret chamber in the Hand's study was opportunity enough. All that was required was for the plotter to keep his identity hidden.
A man as shrewd as Petyr Baelish needed no reminding to remain in the shadows. Gawen, in turn, would keep himself concealed behind Petyr.
At this mont, both n would choose to protect one another in silence. Such was the unspoken accord of political schers.
Though it bore the na of a hunt, the Royal Hunt in the King's Wood was in truth a courtly outing arranged by the queen, where the noble ladies of the Crownlands traveled together beneath royal auspices.
As a royal function, it was deed an affair of state, and thus the funds—asured in golden dragons—were approved and released by the Master of Coin.
Glancing over the docunts Petyr had passed across the desk, and comparing them against the clerks' inventories, Gawen's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.
Two thousand gold dragons?
The Crownlands nobility did know how to enjoy themselves.
The queen's clerks had already been busy for three months preparing the hunt, with the necessary provisions long since purchased.
No wonder that when Gawen suddenly inherited responsibility for the hunt, the officials had shown no displeasure when he encountered them in Maegor's Hall. Instead, they had been unusually cordial.
The fat had already been skimd, the profits pocketed. What remained was only the drudgery of command and escort. Of course they were happy to hand it off and wash their hands of it.
Gawen could not help but feel jealous—his colleagues could gorge themselves and walk away from the table, leaving others to clean the dishes.
Noble Queen Cersei would never know, nor care, about such things.
This was the queen's trust. All Gawen could do was apply himself to the task.
And in truth, his nature was such that he did not brood long over what was already lost.
Petyr broke the silence."I must admit, I was surprised to hear you were given charge of the King's Wood Hunt at this late hour. The major purchases have all been made. What remains is little more than the tireso burden of guards and escorts. Hardly a task to win you greater favor from Her Grace."
Gawen gave a slight shrug."Duty is duty."
Petyr spread his hands, his look earnest."Baron Crabb, I have told you before—we are friends now. Within my power, I am always glad to aid a friend."
Gawen's sharp mory reminded him that Petyr had nearly repeated, word for word, what he had said during that midnight "visit."
The Master of Coin continued:"Though my hands are sowhat tied, I can authorize an additional thousand dragons for you, my friend. Any more would draw unwelco eyes."
The aning was clear: this was Petyr's gesture of conciliation.
Such an addition fell within the scope of the treasury, and thus could not be kept secret. But as the one overseeing the Royal Hunt, Gawen could easily make arrangents to ensure Queen Cersei's outing was more splendid than ever—and still pocket a fair share besides.
By his reckoning, with so effort, he might skim off half.
Gawen no longer envied his colleagues.
He placed a hand upon his chest and inclined his head warmly."House Crabb will ever rember the generosity of Lord Petyr."
Outside the Affairs Hall, Red Keep
Bidding Petyr farewell, Gawen stepped through the tall doors—only to find Ser Jai Lannister waiting, his face dark as thunder.
Since gaining the na Kingslayer for his broken oath, Jai's faith in himself had collapsed. Outwardly he seed unchanged, but inside he lived half in ruin, caring for little beyond Queen Cersei.
Family, power, honor—none of it mattered. Cersei was his only creed.
To Gawen, Jai seed a man adrift, unstable of temper, consud by one forbidden devotion. He thought it best not to judge him too harshly.
Gawen pretended not to notice Jai's scowl and greeted him with ease."Ser Jai—has Her Grace sent for ?"
Without answering, Jai thrust a golden pouch into his hands, embroidered with the crowned stag of House Baratheon."Little wild man—this is Prince Joffrey's reward for you."
Little wild man? So he had returned to that title again?
Gawen took the bag, weighing its heft discreetly, before passing it back to the ever-loyal Anguy at his side."My thanks to Prince Joffrey. Convey them for , if you would."
Jai's glance was sharp and crooked, his tone edged with disdain."Co. Princess Myrcella wishes to see you."
"Myrcella?"
Falling in step with the Kingslayer, Gawen asked with so puzzlent,"Ser Jai, may I ask what has moved the princess to summon ?"
"She heard the tale of the rmaid."
The rmaid?
Gawen rembered well how, to make Siren's Port more alluring, he had tasked Steward Herschel with spreading the legend of the rmaid back in Whispers City.
And now the tale had reached even into the Red Keep? Out into the world at large? Herschel had done fine work indeed—Gawen almost missed him in that mont.
But his quick mind also pieced together sothing more: so this was the root of Jai's strange hostility toward him.
Myrcella was what—eight, nine years old?
In Gawen's eyes, she was a child. What foul designs could he possibly harbor? He searched his mory, but could think of nothing, whether in her presence or absence, that might have been misread.
A flicker of irritation stirred in him. Was Jai like this with everyone, or only him?
Outwardly, he showed nothing."So the princess has heard of the rmaid, then?"
Jai gave a stiff, curt nod.
"The tale cos from Siren's Port, my own holding…"
Gawen's streak of mischief showed itself. After a pause, he asked deliberately,"Ser Jai, since Princess Myrcella wishes to et alone, should I not bring a bouquet of flowers?"
At once Jai's face went ashen. Gawen laughed to himself inwardly.
The Kingslayer's fist clenched about his sword hilt."Princess Myrcella is still but a child. She will not be accepting flowers from strange n."
"Quite right," Gawen agreed with a nod. "The princess's rank is high, and though she is young, we must set up safeguards."
At last Jai's lips twitched into the faintest of smiles.
"But I am different," Gawen added smoothly. "I am one of the family."
That stopped Jai cold in his tracks.
Gawen feigned puzzlent at the pause, glancing about."Ser Jai? Why halt here?"
Jai's heart seethed with resentnt, yet he knew Gawen was truly innocent of any wrong. He could only curse Tyrion for planting such thoughts. His love for his brother dimd by a fraction.
"Forget the flowers," Jai muttered, stepping forward once more.
Then, softening his words with a cough, he added:"Little baron—Princess Myrcella does not care for gifts."
Gawen spread his hands."I shall do as you advise, ser."
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