"Guards!"
The Governor of Myr's cry echoed through the empty garden, struck the stained-glass dome, and shattered into a feeble reverberation.
There were no footsteps, no clatter of armor, none of the steady replies he knew so well from the captain of the Governor's Palace guards.
Only the fountain's endless murmur remained, making his voice sound all the more lonely, ridiculous, and chilling.
On the governor's throne, Aegon finally raised his head.
Starlight and sparse candlelight fell across his face, tracing its sharply defined, cold, unyielding contours.
Those violet eyes now came clearly into the Governor of Myr's view.
They were like two bottomless pools, their surfaces still and tranquil, their depths seemingly holding ice that had never thawed since the dawn of time-or dark flames burning silently.
"I am sitting here quite at my leisure..."
Aegon's voice was quiet, yet like a pair of cold iron pincers, it strangled the governor's second cry for help before he could utter it.
"You should understand what that means."
His gaze swept over the garden's quiet corners, as though admiring the rare flowers and plants, or confirming something.
"Anyone who could hear what happens on this top floor..."
Aegon tilted his head slightly, as if listening, then added mildly, "Is already gone."
He raised his black-gauntleted hand and waved his fingertips ever so lightly before his nose, an elegant gesture with a horrifying implication.
"Do you smell it? Beneath the flowers... that faint, sweet tang."
Aegon watched the governor's pupils suddenly contract, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather:
"That is the smell of blood. Still very fresh."
"So stop wasting your effort, my lord governor. Save your strength. We still have things to discuss."
The Governor of Myr trembled all over.
Of course he had smelled it.