Boom, boom, boom!
The penultimate round of drums for tonight's banquet rang out in a rapid cadence, urging guests who had yet to arrive to hurry.
As the drums thundered, Aegon was still holding his cup of hot milk with honey, seated between Laena and Rhaenys amid a subtle atmosphere he could hardly describe.
Laena had turned her head to speak quietly with Rhaenys. Mother and daughter kept their voices so low that Aegon could only catch a few scattered words-"Dragonstone," "letters," "next time"-but whenever he tried to prick up his ears and hear more, Laena would turn toward him at just the right moment and offer a knowing smile, forcing him to guiltily return his gaze to the plate before him.
He felt as though he had been wedged between two warm flames-on his left, Laena carried a faint scent of orange blossoms; on his right, Rhaenys smelled of crisp lavender mingled with the sulfur of dragonbreath. The two scents intertwined in the candlelight, pinning him firmly to his seat.
And sitting between a woman he was flirting with and her mother, who was also his elder, really felt...
He was already growing restless, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the rim of his milk cup as his gaze roamed the banquet hall, searching for an excuse to escape his seat for a while.
Then he discovered a very serious problem-his uncle Daemon was missing!
The banquet hall in the Hall of Nine Voyages was packed with invited guests-representatives sent by House Baratheon of the Stormlands, Rhaenys's maternal family; envoys from Jeyne Arryn, the Duchess of the Vale and a fellow woman; merchant delegations from several Free Cities across the Narrow Sea; and members of the local Velaryon cadet branches on Driftmark. Everyone was there, except for that familiar, devilishly charming