Once, on the small terrace atop the castle, as the two of them gazed at the outline of Valyria City taking shape by the distant sea, Margaery remarked with seemingly idle wistfulness, "This land is being reborn. Everything on it is full of hope. Yet sometimes I wonder where women like us will ultimately find our place."
Kinvara turned to her with a smile. "Flame lights the path, and fate follows its own course. Lady Margaery, you bear the mark of light. It is faint, but it is there. The Lord of Light's flames sometimes burn before you in unexpected ways."
Something stirred in Margaery's heart, and she asked tentatively, "Are you speaking of your faith, Priestess Kinvara? But I have lived in the light of the Seven since childhood. Though I hold the Red God's teachings in awe, in the end..."
Kinvara gently shook her head, cutting her off. "The flames once showed me certain visions. They were rather hazy, but I am sure of what I saw. Several consorts surrounded His Grace Viserys. Among them was close kin with silver hair and purple eyes, the blazing sun and star of Dorne, and a golden rose from Highgarden."
Margaery's green eyes filled with disbelief. Kinvara's words directly confirmed her suspicions about Viserys's marriage plans, and pointed even more clearly to Margaery herself.
"How is that possible? I worship the Seven. The Lord of Light should not be able to see me." She felt herself lose her composure, shaken both by the impact of the "prophecy" and by an instinctive resistance to a future that would overturn everything she believed.
Yet Kinvara said calmly, "Prophecy is not certain. It merely reveals a possibility. The flames only light the road; you must walk it yourself. The threads of fate are exceedingly