It had been six days since King-Regent Cedric Lannister had been confined to the sept’s cold stone cell, his golden hair tangled, his once-fine beard unkempt. The torchlight flickered as the iron door groaned open, and Qyburna stepped, her hands folded before her. She moved like a shadow of the court that had once obeyed his every whim.

She set down her satchel by the wall, and spoke in that same even voice that had once soothed him after wprrying news.

"No raven has come from Riverrun. I fear your sister has chosen silence or not gotten word." She paused only long enough for it to sting. "But you need not worry, Your Grace. The Faith expects a trial… and I have made certain that your champion will be ready. When the hour comes, no man—living or otherwise—shall stand against him." She smiled, faint and unreadable, as if discussing the weather. "Trust me. I have seen to it personally. You will be freed and the people responsible put to right."