Aegon closed the thick volume, his fingertips lingering on its cover for a moment.
He did not speak at once. The candle flame flickered in the silence, casting his shadow across the shelves behind him, stretching it long.
At last, he spoke. His voice was low, but a chill lay deep in his throat. "What a fine Citadel. What a fine flock of Grey Sheep."
He turned to look at Marwyn.
"Over generations, with a few gentle words of counsel, they made the Targaryens shut their own dragons inside a tomb."
"Maester after maester came and went, but the Citadel's will never wavered. They didn't even need to do it themselves-all they had to do was make the king believe it was his own decision."
He paused. His voice grew softer, and colder still. "Even the most ruthless ambition could scarcely go further."
Marwyn lowered his gaze and said nothing.
He knew this was no time to agree. He only needed to wait.
Sure enough, Aegon continued, "You said those three books were evidence. Then tell me: did the Citadel do all this merely to make dragons disappear?"
Marwyn raised his head. This was the question he had been waiting for. "Your Highness," he said, "that is only one part of it."
Aegon's gaze settled on his face.
Marwyn did not evade that gaze. Instead, he said slowly, "The Citadel studies everything it wishes to understand, including dragons... and those who ride them."
At those words, Aegon's gaze sharpened.
Marwyn turned and walked toward the stairs leading to the shelves above. The dusty wooden boards creaked faintly beneath his feet.
"Please follow me to the Third Floor, Your Highness. The books kept there are even more obscure than these below, and even more... unfit to see the light of day."