Viserys's face was twisted with a mixture of madness and wild delight.
"Yes! Of course I agree!"
He practically shrieked the words.
Spittle sprayed across Governor Illyrio's greasy face.
As though, if he shouted loudly enough, the Iron Throne forged from blood and bones would fall from the sky the very next moment.
All he had to do was rise from his seat, and the entire Seven Kingdoms would be his.
He clutched Lynn's hand, flames of greed burning in his pale violet eyes.
"Daenerys is yours!"
"You are my most trusted friend!"
"From today onward, Daenerys is your wife!"
"When are you going back? Tomorrow? Or right now?"
"No, we'll leave now! We'll fight our way back to Westeros!"
Lynn quietly withdrew his hand.
He could not even be bothered to spare another glance for this Beggar King, whose fantasies of power had already gone to his head.
His gaze settled on Daenerys.
The girl's body trembled slightly.
All color had drained from her unearthly beautiful face, leaving it as pale as the first snow in the North.
It was happening again.
Once again, she had been treated as merchandise, an object to be traded for armies and a throne.
Her only family, her brother, had traded her away without hesitation.
Tears welled in her clear violet eyes, filled with humiliation and sorrow.
Yet this time, deep beneath that sorrow, was there a trace of hope that even she had not noticed?
Because the man she was being traded to was him.
The man who had appeared countless times in her dreams.
The prince who rode a Three-Headed Ice Dragon out of the Lands of Always Winter.
He was her prince.
Seeing her on the verge of tears, Lynn felt his heart soften for no clear reason. Daenerys had