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"
A
hostage
,
"
Cersei
said
,
mouth
tightening
.
"
An
honored
guest
,
"
Tyrion
insisted
,
"
and
I
suspect
Martell
will
treat
Myrcella
more
kindly
than
Joffrey
has
treated
Sansa
Stark
.
I
had
in
mind
to
send
Ser
Arys
Oakheart
with
her
.
With
a
knight
of
the
Kingsguard
as
her
sworn
shield
,
no
one
is
like
to
forget
who
or
what
she
is
.
"
"
Small
good
Ser
Arys
will
do
her
if
Doran
Martell
decides
that
my
daughter
’
s
death
would
wash
out
his
sister
’
s
.
"
"
Martell
is
too
honorable
to
murder
a
nine
-
year
-
old
girl
,
particularly
one
as
sweet
and
innocent
as
Myrcella
.
So
long
as
he
holds
her
he
can
be
reasonably
certain
that
we
’
ll
keep
faith
on
our
side
,
and
the
terms
are
too
rich
to
refuse
.
Myrcella
is
the
least
part
of
it
.
I
’
ve
also
offered
him
his
sister
’
s
killer
,
a
council
seat
,
some
castles
on
the
Marches
.
.
.
"
"
Too
much
.
"
Cersei
paced
away
from
him
,
restless
as
a
lioness
,
skirts
swirling
.
"
You
’
ve
offered
too
much
,
and
without
my
authority
or
consent
.
"
"
This
is
the
Prince
of
Dorne
we
are
speaking
of
.
If
I
’
d
offered
less
,
he
’
d
likely
spit
in
my
face
.
"
"
Too
much
!
"
Cersei
insisted
,
whirling
back
.
"
What
would
you
have
offered
him
,
that
hole
between
your
legs
?
"
Tyrion
said
,
his
own
anger
flaring
.
This
time
he
saw
the
slap
coming
.
His
head
snapped
around
with
a
crack
.
"
Sweet
sweet
sister
,
"
he
said
,
"
I
promise
you
,
that
was
the
last
time
you
will
ever
strike
me
.
"
