Book 1: Prints in the Snow

Chapter XVII • Words Shared With Shadows

Another knock upon the door knocked her out of her thoughts. Lyon turned just as Jory Cassel poked his head through the door.

"Pardon, my Lord. There's a Night's Watchman here begging a word. He says it's urgent."

There was a brief moment where Jory met Lyon's eyes, but she turned away.

"Excuse me," she said quietly and slipped through the door past Jory, the Night's Watchmen standing idly by, and her sister.

"Jory," she could hear as she walked away. "Make sure she and Arya are returned safely to their rooms."

Lyon cursed under her breath and paused to wait for the two to catch up. She avoided Jory's eyes the best she could.

"Jory," Arya began, "How many guards does my father have?"

"Here in King's Landing?"

"Fifty." Lyon said, meeting their eyes. "I counted."

"You wouldn't let anyone kill him, would you?" Arya asked. There was a certain fear in her eyes that Lyon didn't take kindly to.

"No fear on that account, little Lady." He said with a faint smile. They walked for a little longer before depositing the young girl in her rooms, leaving Jory and Lyon outside. Alone.

She turned to walk first, and he fell in step beside her. They were both silent, an unspoken tension between them. They knew it wasn't safe to speak, not in these halls. When they finally reached Lyon's quarters, he stepped inside behind her, much to the displeasure of the knot growing in Lyon's stomach.

"So you're going after Lannisters now, is that it?" He leaned against the door, arms folded over his chest.

She sighed, made way for the wine decanter and poured. "I'm not going after anyone. It was harmless fun, is all. And so is this, Jory. Harmless fun. We don't love each other, and even if we did, we couldn't. Not with us being who we are."

"You think I don't know that?" He sprang forward from the door. His voice had risen, and Lyon's grip on her wine had tightened as he came closer to her. "I can't help whatever it is I feel, Lyon. And no matter what I feel, it is still unwise for you to chase after the Kingslayer."

"Don't call him that." She grumbled and sipped her wine.

"Why? How long have you been... cavorting with him?"

"I'm not cavorting with anybody except you, you dunce! The man is a knight, for God's sake. It was harmless fun. And he doesn't like it when people call him Kingslayer, from what I've heard."

"Why do you care what he doesn't like?"

"Because I'm not a complete arse! And for the same reason I do not call his brother 'The Imp'. It's rude, and I certainly wouldn't enjoy it if people called me what I really am."

"And what's that? A Lannister? There's been talk that you aren't what you seem. You've been spending so much time with the queen as of late- some would think you trust her more than your own father."

Lyon's knuckles had become white as she clutched the goblet in her hand.

"Get out."

"Lyon-"

"I said get out you filthy rat bastard! Get out, and don't you dare show your face in here again or I swear, I'll have your fucking head." Her hand found her blade from her mattress, her eyes glowing with madness, and the same madness seeming as though it was reflected in the steel of her blade. Jory watched the green of her eyes- watched as they glowed like wildfire. He backed toward the door, and each step he took back, she took forward.