Just then, the sweet scent of roses drifting over from the nearby Red Keep gardens clung to her sleeves. Arya wrinkled her nose in irritation and scrubbed a little harder.
Biting her lower lip, she finished wiping the last stretch of the blade, then rested her chin against the cold Valyrian steel, her gray eyes fixed on the garden Viserys had headed toward.
There would be a chance, she thought. If not this time, then the next. As long as his enemies' banners still flew out there, Viserys would eventually need another pair of eyes to watch his back.
In the garden, Rhaenys and Sansa were crouching before a bed of blue roses. Sansa held a pair of narrow-bladed shears and carefully trimmed several stems that had begun to wilt.
Ever since Margaery's last departure, Sansa had tended almost all the blue roses in the Red Keep gardens.
She worked slowly but meticulously. After clipping each stem, she studied it for a moment and said something to Rhaenys before placing it in the basket she had set beside her.
"Your Grace." Hearing familiar footsteps approach, Sansa quickly looked up. When she saw Viserys, she hurried to her feet and brushed the bits of grass and leaves from her skirts. "What brings you here?"
Rhaenys, who had been crouching beside Sansa and watching her trim the flowers, rose as well. The girl's face still bore a flush from tending the flower beds, while her violet eyes held a peculiar look as she glanced at Viserys and Sansa before her.
Viserys waved a hand to tell Sansa there was no need for ceremony. His gaze passed over the wilted clippings piled in the basket, then settled on the thin cut a stem had scratched across Rhaenys's knuckle.
Only then did he speak,