The awkward silence in the hall lasted several seconds.
Lady Elena Caron glanced at her husband, Borros Baratheon, then at Rhaenyra, her strained smile nearly slipping. She turned to look for her younger brother, Bryce Caron, hoping he could salvage the situation.
After all, Bryce Caron's handsome looks and beautiful singing voice perfectly embodied House Caron's words, "Sweet as song." When it came to warming up a gathering with a song, he was unrivaled in the Stormlands.
So where was Bryce Caron?
He sat halfway down the hall, deep in animated conversation with the man beside him.
Today he wore a bright yellow fitted jacket with House Caron's black nightingale embroidered on the collar. A sword hung at his waist, its scabbard inlaid with silver wire, also in the shape of a nightingale.
He really was handsome-dark brown curls, gray-blue eyes, a pointed chin, rosy lips, and two dimples when he smiled.
Beside him sat his close friend Robin Beesbury, heir to Grassy Vale. He was tall and almost excessively handsome, with skin too fair for a man of the Stormlands. He too wore a longsword at his waist, its hilt set with an emerald.
The two of them might as well have treated everyone around them as nonexistent.
They leaned close together, Bryce talking and Robin listening with a smile. The people around them seemed used to it; no one found it strange.
Lady Elena called, "Bryce."
Bryce did not hear her. He was gesturing as he spoke, probably recounting yesterday's hunt. Robin's smile widened, and he reached over to give Bryce's shoulder an affectionate squeeze, a little too intimate to be casual.
Lady Elena raised her voice. "Bryce Caron!"
Bryce finally turned and saw his sister glaring at him with a look that plainly asked what he thought he was doing. He froze for a moment, then quickly stood and bowed toward Rhaenyra.
"Your Highness," he said in a clear voice, "forgive my discourtesy."
Rhaenyra nodded. She was not angry; she almost wanted to laugh. Bryce straightened, hesitated, then asked, "Would Your Highness care to hear a song? I sing reasonably well."
As he spoke, he glanced at Robin, who gave him a thumbs-up.
Lady Elena breathed a sigh of relief and was about to put in a good word for her brother when Rhaenyra spoke first. "Another day, Ser Caron. Let us hear the introductions from the other lords first."
Bryce showed no disappointment. He bowed and sat back down. Robin leaned over, and the two resumed their conversation as though no one else were there.
Watching from Laena's arms, Aegon felt something click into place. To think he had been wary of Robin yesterday. But now, between Robin's expression and the way he and Bryce Caron ignored everyone else, that settled it. They were almost certainly a pair of "very close male friends."
He looked up at Laena, who had been holding him without a word. Only then did Aegon realize that she seemed to have been watching Bryce and Robin from the beginning, a peculiar little smile on her lips-
Aegon looked up at Laena again. Her expression was strange-not appraising, not curious, but knowing, as though to say, I understand. She looked like someone studying a painting she had seen countless times, familiar with every detail, yet still unable to resist another look.
Feeling his gaze, Laena glanced down at him. She tapped his shoulder lightly twice, then raised her index finger to her lips.
Shh. Following her gaze, Aegon looked back at Robin Beesbury and Bryce Caron.
Aegon took another look at Bryce and Robin. Robin's hand rested on Bryce's wrist as he said something, and Bryce nodded with a smile. They sat far closer than ordinary friends would.
He thought of Laena's younger brother, Laenor Velaryon. In the original story, he had been Rhaenyra's first husband, but their marriage had existed in name only. Laenor's "dearest friend," Joffrey Lonmouth, the man called the "Knight of Kisses," was the one who truly held his heart. In later years, Laenor and Joffrey's relationship had been practically an open secret in Westeros, just like Renly Baratheon and his "Knight of Flowers," Loras Tyrell.
One corner of Aegon's mouth crooked involuntarily. No wonder he had thought Robin Beesbury a little "effeminate" yesterday. No wonder Laena had looked at him so strangely.
These two men-the heir to Grassy Vale and the heir to Nightsong-had spent the entire morning chatting as though no one else existed at the Duke of the Stormlands' banquet. Not even the awkwardness of the matchmaking gathering had disturbed them.
Laena lowered her head again and found Aegon following her gaze toward Robin and Bryce. She winked at the boy in her arms.
Aegon winked back.
They shared a small smile, as though sharing a secret.
As for Borros, he finally noticed the awkward silence. He stood there, his expression shifting from embarrassment to a plea for help.
He looked toward his wife. Elena sat upright with a perfectly proper smile, but there was a barely perceptible trace of irritation in her eyes-not at the princess, of course, but at her brainless husband and useless younger brother.
"My lady-" Borros began.
Elena suddenly pressed a hand to her lower abdomen. She leaned forward slightly, her smile turning into a pained expression. The movement looked natural, but Aegon noticed that her eyes remained clear, even faintly composed.
"Your Highness," she said, turning to Rhaenyra, her voice weak but distinct, "I have suddenly taken ill. I'm afraid today's gathering must come to an end. Please forgive me."
Rhaenyra looked at her, then at Borros. The duke's pleading expression turned to gratitude-he had clearly understood his wife's intention.
"Of course." Rhaenyra rose. "Please get some rest, my lady. We can continue another day."
Borros exhaled in relief and hurried to support his wife. Elena leaned against his shoulder and gave Rhaenyra a small, apologetic nod, then slowly left the hall with the help of a maid. Her brother Bryce Caron finally looked up, watching his sister being helped out with a flicker of bewilderment.
Robin Beesbury looked up as well. His gaze swept over the crowd before settling on Laena-or rather, on Aegon in Laena's arms. His lips curved into a meaningful smile. Then he rose and followed Bryce Caron out of the hall.
The nobles rose and left one after another. Some breathed sighs of relief, some whispered among themselves, and some hid their laughter. Ser Raymond, the Baratheon widower, was the last to leave. As he passed Rhaenyra, he gave her a slight nod, his expression showing not resentment at being rejected, but relief.
Rhaenyra remained where she stood, gazing at the empty hall. Her expression was calm, but Aegon knew she was angry-her arms were folded, and her fingers tapped lightly against one arm, a habit she had when keeping her emotions in check.
Laena walked over with Aegon in her arms. "That line about 'three sons' was excellent," she said, amusement in her voice.
Rhaenyra glanced at her, and the corners of her mouth finally lifted a little. "I was stating a fact."
"Borros practically turned green."
"Your cousin brought it on himself." Rhaenyra took Aegon and gathered him into her arms. "He actually wanted me to marry a widower with three children, and then he said-"
"Give birth to a strong boy," Laena finished. "I heard. Everyone heard."
Rhaenyra buried her face in Aegon's hair and said in a muffled voice, "I don't want to come tomorrow."
"There won't be any matchmaking tomorrow, either," Laena said. "Now that Elena is 'unwell,' she'll need at least two days to 'recover.' By the time her 'illness' passes, Borros should have figured out what he did wrong."
Rhaenyra lifted her head and looked at Laena. The two women exchanged a glance, then burst out laughing together.
Caught between them, Aegon felt his sister's laughter rumbling through her chest, making his back tingle. He remembered Lady Elena's expression when she had clutched her abdomen-clearheaded, composed, even a little calculating. The future lady regent of Storm's End had not been rescuing her husband at all. She had been rescuing herself. She did not want this matchmaking gathering to continue, at least not today.
Aegon thought again of Robin Beesbury and Bryce Caron. One had looked bewildered as they left, the other knowing.
Damn, surely he hasn't set his sights on me? He looked up at Laena again. She was gazing out of the window now, sunlight falling across her profile. Her expression was calm, but the faintest hint of a smile lingered on her lips.
"What are you looking at?" Aegon asked.
"The sea," Laena said. "The sea at Storm's End is very blue today."
Aegon followed her gaze. Beyond the window lay the cliffs, and below the cliffs lay the sea. It really was blue today, as blue as Velaryon sails, as blue as the emerald set in the heir to Grassy Vale's sword hilt.
No, emeralds aren't blue.
Aegon shook his head, shaking away those tangled thoughts. He leaned against Rhaenyra's shoulder and watched the nobles of the Stormlands leave the hall in twos and threes. Some laughed, some shook their heads, and some murmured among themselves. Borros Baratheon had botched things today, and everyone could see it.
But the sun would still rise tomorrow, the matchmaking would continue tomorrow, and new candidates would line up for Rhaenyra's inspection tomorrow.
Aegon closed his eyes. Once again, he went through the list of Stormlands candidates in his head. The one from House Swann was too arrogant, Mertyns was too insincere, the one from House Dondarrion had no interest, and Rhaenyra had already rebuffed the Baratheon widower to his face.
None of them would do. Perhaps there would be new candidates tomorrow. Perhaps Rhaenyra still would not like a single one.
Perhaps this matchmaking gathering would never produce a match at all, and he would not have to help Rhaenyra "ruin" it in the first place.
He sighed contentedly and buried his face in Rhaenyra's shoulder. She looked down at him and brushed the stray hair off his forehead. "Sleepy?"
"Mm," Aegon murmured.
"Then let's go back and sleep."
Laena walked ahead and pushed open the door leading to the guest-room corridor. Sunlight streamed through the doorway and fell over all three of them, casting long, overlapping shadows across the stone floor behind them.
In the distance, Vhagar's low call drifted up from the beach. Sunfyre answered with a clear cry, like a little bird that had found a companion.
The wind blew in from the sea and struck the walls of Storm's End, breaking into tiny currents that slipped through cracks in the stone, rolled over the battlements, and squeezed through the gaps in every stone-framed window, carrying the briny smell that had remained unchanged for eight thousand years.
Today's matchmaking gathering was over.
Tomorrow's troubles could wait until tomorrow.
Before you continue