Brienne did not move.
She stood still as a statue forgotten in a corner, watching Jaime Lannister's lonely back.
The fire crackled in the hearth, casting his long, wavering shadow across the cold stone wall.
"Why are you still here?"
Jaime did not turn around. His voice held a hint of impatience, and a trace of weariness that was almost impossible to detect.
"The story's over. Shouldn't you leave like everyone else, taking your contempt or pity with you?"
"Or is Tarth's unwanted virgin knight about to draw her sword and cleanse the ranks for the Seven by cutting off this Kingslayer's head?"
His words were as bitter and cutting as ever.
This was his customary armor, the armor he wore against the entire world.
This time, however, it did him no good.
"I was accused of killing Renly Baratheon."
Brienne sounded a little lost.
Jaime stiffened.
He slowly turned, a flicker of surprise and scrutiny in his green eyes.
Of course he knew about it.
But he knew only the outcome, not the whole story.
Renly Baratheon had died in his own tent, and the only people with him at the time had been his guards, Brienne of Tarth and the Knight of Flowers, who was so skilled at playing with sticks.
When the news reached King's Landing, everyone had said that this tall, ugly woman had betrayed the man she served, either because he had rejected her advances or because someone had bought her off.
Like him, she was another oathbreaking monster.
That was the second label the world had given her.
The first was "the virgin beauty."
The virgin beauty meant that Brienne was so ugly no normal man would ever desire her.
How ironic.
"But I didn't do it."
Brienne looked at Jaime, a trace of