The sun had long since set over Oldtown, casting the Hightower’s shadow across the city. The innermost chamber of the Starry Sept held the body of the High Septon, while the royal party took rest in nearby quarters. Queen Alysanne slept peacefully in her appointed room, but Jonquil Darke stood vigilant outside the door, her hand resting on the pommel of her sword.

The corridor was quiet save for the flickering of torchlight and the muffled murmurs of prayer drifting through the thick walls. A servant approached, bearing a tray of refreshments for the queen, but Jonquil raised a hand to halt him.

"She will not wake before morning," Jonquil said, her sharp hazel eyes fixed on the young man. "Please return at dawn."