"The truth is—"
"He knew it. I would spare him."
Gryn's account cast a layer of doubt over Melisandre's scarlet eyes. "If that is the truth, Your Majesty, forgive my boldness, but why did he admit to being Bran Stark?"
Looking at her, a faint smile touched Gryn's lips. "Yes, after all, he walked the world in the name of a god—"
At this very moment.
Melisandre, who had walked the mortal world for centuries, seemed to have finally found a way to draw closer to the King of the Seven Kingdoms. Getting along with him had never been about relying on beauty to beguile others, nor could it be about the will of a true god.
She had to follow the course of his thoughts, step by step.
And she needed to demonstrate her irreplaceable value—
Her gaze shifting, she gave Gryn a seductive sidelong glance. "Yes, my king. Since he dared call himself a god, he should have feared neither life nor death. All the more, he should not have revealed such weakness before everyone's eyes. From this day onward, he can no longer deceive mortal men, and the title of god has been utterly shattered."
"Honesty, kindness, self-respect—"
Gryn continued slowly, "Since the Three-Eyed Crow considered himself a god, he had naturally transcended such human nature. Yes, he knew my past and knew that I was a sufficiently just king. But he would not bind himself with such meaningless sentiments and rules—"
Extending his other hand, he lifted her gracefully curved chin with his forefinger. "Gods follow only their own will, do they not?"
Crackle, crackle. Sparks leaped up and fell.
The dancing hearthfire cast flickering fragments of light in Gryn's deep eyes.
Melisandre slowly raised a hand, gently lifted Gryn's wrist, and pressed his palm against