Margaery lowered her head and withdrew from the hall.
She took every step with care.
The tearing pain inside her made it almost impossible to maintain a noble lady's grace.
She all but stumbled back to her guest room.
Her maid had already prepared piping-hot water and clean clothes.
Margaery sank into the bath. The warm water eased her aching body a little, but could not dispel the gloom in her heart.
They had clearly agreed it would only be from behind. She had never expected Lynn to change his mind at the last moment...
Margaery gazed at her reflection in the water.
Her face was still beautiful, but her eyes held something they had never held before.
It was the exhaustion of utter submission, and an even fiercer flame rekindled amid despair.
Lynn had given her a chance.
A chance to become a true queen.
But she would have to earn that chance by proving her worth.
What worth did she have?
Her beauty? Her body?
Before that man, those seemingly precious things had become worthless since last night.
Lynn never lacked beautiful women around him.
Sansa Stark's beauty was like winter sunshine, pure and warm.
The guard named Miranda possessed a wild allure, like a she-wolf on the frozen plains.
And then there was Myrcella, the ever-innocent, enchanting Baratheon princess.
Margaery closed her eyes, recalling everything Lynn had shown her.
An army of Wildlings who had no fear of death.
The miracle of creating food from nothing.
And that terrifying dragon that could turn mountains to dust.
A sudden helplessness washed over her.
Before such absolute power, Highgarden's wealth and the Tyrell armies seemed laughable.
What could she offer to prove her worth?
Margaery stayed in her room for an entire day.
Only the following morning did she