Back in her room, Rhaenyra closed the door, leaned against it, and let out a long breath.
She looked down at Aegon, and he looked up at her.
"Aegon," she said softly.
"Hmm?"
"Are you... are you scared?"
Aegon thought for a moment, then shook his head. "No."
Looking at his calm little face, Rhaenyra felt an indescribable ache well up inside her. She was afraid-afraid of her father's punishment, afraid of being summoned tomorrow morning, afraid of losing something. Yet this little boy had not shown a trace of fear from beginning to end.
Was he truly unafraid, or... had he known all along what would happen?
She did not ask. She dared not, afraid of losing this last brother she could still believe in.
Faint sounds began to come from outside the door. The twin Kingsguard brothers, Ser Erryk Cargyll and Ser Alek Cargyll, had taken up their posts before it like two silent stone statues.
Rhaenyra released Aegon's little hand, which she had gripped tightly ever since their return, and slowly walked to the window to look out into the dark night.
A faint glow of fire was still visible in the direction of the Street of Silk in Flea Bottom, but it had dwindled, as though the night wind were gradually blowing it out.
Yet neither she nor Aegon, the "culprit," knew that amid those flames, their "dear uncle" Daemon was standing in a sorry state outside Mysaria's door. He was soaked through, his silver hair was singed black, and there was even a lipstick mark on his face, so smeared with soot that it was barely recognizable.
Harwin had landed on the ground backside-first, still clutching a strip of cloth he had torn from Daemon.
Cole stood nearby, watching the two of them with an