In Dorne, the sunlight was abundant and merciless.
But in the Water Gardens, fountains and shade softened the fierce heat into a pleasant coolness.
The fragrance of orange and lemon trees filled the air, and children splashed and played in the shallow pools in the distance.
Their clear laughter mingled with the murmuring water, forming a scene of peace and tranquility.
Yet Prince Doran, seated in his wheelchair, felt no ease at all.
He was staring at the letter in his hand.
It had come from his daughter, Arianne.
In it, she assured him with absolute certainty that the identity of Aegon Targaryen, who claimed to be the son of Rhaegar and Elia, was genuine, and urgently pressed him to send troops at once and seize this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
Prince Doran trusted that Arianne would not deliberately deceive him.
Her desire for the glory of their house could not be feigned.
But he also doubted his daughter's judgment.
She was too easily moved by tales of heroes and dreams of restoring a dynasty.
Was that young man truly Aegon?
Doran considered it calmly.
It did indeed seem possible.
For Varys, that cunning Spider, switching a baby would have been no difficult task.
But doubts followed.
Why had they concealed it?
Why had even Ser Willem Darry been kept in the dark?
Had it merely been for secrecy?
Or did Varys have some other design?
He pondered for a long time, his gaze turning toward the playing children while his thoughts drifted to distant Storm's End.
In the Seven Kingdoms now, House Lannister held the Iron Throne, but was already deeply mired in trouble.
House Stark had withered, the Reach lay dormant, and strife continued unabated in the Stormlands and the Vale...
Indeed, no one seemed better able to unite the