Scarlet Tides • Gendry Waters

Chapter 17

"You look like a proper lady now, don't you." Gendry thought his voice sounded suspiciously hoarse. Sorcha, of course, did not notice, too enthralled by her appearance in the full-length mirror. Nour, on the other hand, snorted quietly in amusement.

"I know! Isn't it wonderful?" She sighed, running her fingers along the length of her braids for the thousandth time. When she caught Nour's chiding look in the mirror, she stopped short and firmly clasped her hands at her waist. "Nour is truly talented." Indeed, it had taken hours to execute the hairdo, even with the help of another woman, Talia's nimble fingers. If Sorcha was entirely honest, her scalp and neck ached now, though it was worth it.

"She'll be turning every head in the city." Nour looked Gendry up and down with an unnervingly piercing gaze. He wanted to throw a blanket over his head like a child hiding from embarrassment. Instead, he forced his wandering eyes to pick a spot at the center of Sorcha's back and stick to it. His wandering mind, however, was not so easily fooled.

"Not quite the desired effect. What, with being on the run and all." He deflected, his brows furrowing as he realized just how much more eye-catching Sorcha would be now. Every man in Flea Bottom would trade his right hand for a chance at her, likely more than that. Nour threw her arms up with an exasperated sigh.

"What was I to do? She could be wearing a potato sack, and she'd still be the most beautiful woman to walk these streets." Sorcha only proved her point with the radiance of her smile. "Prettier than the Stark girl, even." Gendry's neck nearly cracked as his attention shot to Nour. She didn't seem to think much of the comment as she admired her work.

"Stark girl?" He tried to sound only mildly intrigued, but his eyes held a fervency incompatible with an offhanded inquiry.

"Lady Sansa Stark," Nour didn't miss his perked ears and widened eyes. She noticed even the smallest of expressions that flit across the faces of those around her. It was a skill honed over years of pleasing every man to walk through her doors. "Well, Lannister now, I suppose." She watched Gendry from the corner of her eye as his expression soured with displeasure and uncertainty.

"She's still here? She's married to Joffrey?" He couldn't quite make it all fit together. If the King was to be married in the coming weeks, it would surely be to his betrothed? Sansa Stark would still be a Stark by name. He would admit he was far behind on events with his extended absence from society.

"Who is this, Sansa?" Sorcha turned from the mirror to look between them in interest and earned a sidelong glance from Nour. Neither answered her question.

"I wouldn't say alright, but she is alive. King Joffrey passed her up for the Tyrell girl, Margaery." Nour turned to pour two goblets of wine and one of water for Sorcha, who'd vehemently expressed her loathing of the red liquid earlier. "He decided the daughter of a traitor was unfit to be his wife. I'm not sure Renly's sloppy seconds are much better, though. Forced Sansa to marry the imp of all people." She handed them each a goblet, Gendry didn't register the cup until a moment after, and he set it aside without taking a sip.

"The imp? To Sansa?" His brows shot to his hairline. He'd never met either of them, never even seen them. Arya was always very descriptive in her stories, and The Imp was never even considered a proper husband for the eldest Stark daughter. Nour nodded absently, plopping down in a lounge and draping herself over the arm.

"You sound like you know her. Been consorting with Ladies along the way?" There was a hint of amusement in her tone, but Gendry felt his face drain of all its color. She had no clue how close she'd come to the truth.

"I know her by reputation." It wasn't a lie. He'd only ever heard of Sansa Stark's beauty and grace. Arya wouldn't shut up about how irritating her perfect elder sister was. He also knew that while Sansa Stark was stranded in Kings Landing, her brothers remained in Winterfell. It was the very place Arya had headed, to begin with. Last he'd heard, Robb Stark had taken up his sword against the King. They'd been so close to his army when he and Arya separated. "Why hasn't her brother made a trade by now?" Nour frowned, her face scrunching like he'd said something absurd.