"Aegon?" Viserys's smile froze, and his brow furrowed. He stared for a long moment before repeating the name in bewilderment, as though he had misheard. "Aegon will only be four after his birthday in a few days. But Rhaenyra is already fourteen. By the time Aegon is old enough to marry, Rhaenyra will be an old maid."
"That is no obstacle." Lyonel's voice was as calm as a windless lake. Now that he had revealed his true purpose, he was prepared to face whatever came, confident in his plan. "The princess and prince are only ten years apart. In eight years at the earliest, His Highness will be twelve and Her Highness twenty-two. They can marry then. Before that, we can betroth them. That would discourage outsiders from coveting the princess's hand and put an end to the hopes of those with ill intentions."
He paused, then leaned forward slightly. A rare, almost burning light flashed in his gray-brown eyes, and his tone grew earnest. "Why let outsiders reap the benefits, Your Grace? This is the last piece of Remonstrance that I, Lyonel Strong, can offer you as Hand of the King before leaving King's Landing—and the best!"
Viserys fell silent.
Sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, dividing his face into light and shadow.
On the bright half, the corner of his mouth remained slightly raised, as though a lingering smile had yet to fade.
On the shadowed half, his brow was tightly furrowed, and complex emotions churned in his eyes, somewhere between delighted surprise and hesitation.
He lifted his wine cup but did not drink. He merely stared at the wine and his distorted reflection within it.
Lyonel's words were like a key, opening a door in his heart that had long been sealed.
It was not as though