The Council Chamber's heavy oak doors were shut tight, keeping out the bustle of King's Landing beneath the rising sun.
Inside, deep crimson tapestries cast somber shadows across the stone walls.
The enormous long table was polished to an obsidian sheen, reflecting several pallid shafts of light that fell through the high windows beneath the vaulted ceiling.
Lord Tywin Lannister sat upright at the head of the table, his back straight.
His face held no expression. Only his pale green eyes moved, slowly surveying the members of the Small Council seated along either side of the table.
Everyone his gaze touched felt an invisible chill creep up their spine, as though yesterday's tragedy in the Throne Room were still unfolding before their eyes.
"Speak, my lords."
Tywin's voice was low and steady. "The king was assassinated. Now I need to know your thoughts."
Dead silence.
Tywin's gaze finally settled on the ashen-faced figure at the far end of the table.
"Lord Tyrell, I would like to hear your opinion."
"Ah, I-I-"
Lord Mace gave a violent shudder.
He looked around, only to meet the others' gazes, each bearing a different expression.
The last trace of color instantly drained from his face.
Yesterday's bloody scene in the Throne Room replayed before his eyes like a nightmare.
He bitterly regretted his decision. Why hadn't he left with Renly?!
When Renly was driven out of King's Landing, he had taken only his attendants and Lord Mace's two sons, Loras and Garlan.
Robert had spared Mace, though whether it was out of regard for House Tyrell's repeated support of the Iron Throne was unclear.
Lord Mace had secretly rejoiced at that, but now it was too late even for tears.
"Tyrell, I suggest you think very carefully-"
Cersei wore a thin veil that concealed