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“Then live,” Dany said, “and fight for me tonight.” “That

would not be wise, my queen.” Ser Jorah gave Daario a cold, hard stare. “Keep this one here under guard until the battle’s fought and won.” She considered a

moment, then shook her head. “If he can give us the Stormcrows, surprise is certain.” “And if he betrays you, surprise is lost.” Dany looked down at the

sellsword again. He gave her such a smile that she flushed and turned away. “He won’t.” “How can you know that?” She pointed to the lumps of blackened flesh

the dragons were consuming, bite by bloody bite. “I would call that proof of his sincerity. Daario Naharis, have your Stormcrows ready to strike the Yunkish rear

when my attack begins. Can you get back safely?” “If they stop me, I will say I have been scouting, and saw nothing.” The Tyroshi rose to his feet, bowed, and

swept out. Ser Jorah Mormont lingered. “Your Grace,” he said, too bluntly, “that was a mistake. We know nothing of this man - “We know that he is a great

fighter.” “A great talker, you mean.” “He brings us the Stormcrows.” And he has blue eyes. “Five hundred sellswords of uncertain loyalty.” “All loyalties

are uncertain in such times as these,” Dany reminded him. And I shall be betrayed twice more, once for gold and once for love. “Daenerys, I am thrice your age,”

Ser Jorah said. “I have seen how false men are. Very few are worthy of trust, and Daario Naharis is not one of them. Even his beard wears false colors.” That

angered her. “Whilst you have an honest beard, is that what you are telling me? You are the only man I should ever trust?” He stiffened. “I did not say that.”

“You say it every day. Pyat Pree’s a liar, Xaro’s a schemer, Belwas a braggart, Arstan an assassin... do you think I’m still some virgin girl, that I cannot hear

the words behind the words?” “Your Grace -” She bulled over him. “You have been a better friend to me than any I have known, a better brother than Viserys ever

was. You are the first of my Queensguard, the commander of my army, my most valued counselor, my good right hand. I honor and respect and cherish you - but I do not

desire you, Jorah Mormont, and I am to push every other man in the world away from me, so I must needs rely on you and you alone. It will not

serve, and it will not make me love you any better.” Mormont had flushed red when she first began, but by the time Dany was done his face was pale again. He stood

still as stone. “If my queen commands,” he said, curt and cold. Dany was warm enough for both of them. “She does,” she said. “She commands. Now go see to your

Unsullied, ser. You have a battle to fight and win.” When he was gone, Dany threw herself down on her pillows beside her dragons. She had not meant to be so sharp

with Ser Jorah, but his endless suspicion had finally woken her dragon.   

“If you can spare it, we won’t say no,” Tom conceded. “Now when did you ever say no
to anything, Tom?” the woman hooted. “I’ll roast some mutton for your friends, and an old dry rat for you. It’s more than you deserve, but if you gargle me a song or three, might be I’ll weaken. I always pity the afflicted. Come on, come on. Cass, Lanna, put some kettles on. Jyzene, help me get the clothes off them, we’ll
need to boil those too.” She made good on all her threats. Arya tried to tell them that she’d been bathed twice at Acorn Hall, not a fortnight past, but the red-
haired woman was having none of it. Two serving wenches carried her up the stairs bodily, arguing about whether she was a girl or a boy. The one called Helly won, so
the other had to fetch the hot Arya’s back with a stiff bristly brush that almost took her skin off. Then they stole all the clothes that Lady formaldehydeSmallwood had given her and dressed her up like one of Sansa’s dolls in linen and lace. But at least when they were done she got to go down and eat. As she sat in
the common room in her stupid girl clothes, Arya remembered what Syrio Forel had told her, the trick of looking and seeing what was there. When she looked, she saw
more serving wenches than any inn could want, and most of them young and comely. And come evenfall, lots of men started coming and going at the Peach. They did not
linger long in the common room, not even when Tom took out his woodharp and began to sing “Six Maids in a Pool.” The wooden steps were old and steep, and creaked
something fierce whenever one of the men took a girl upstairs. “I bet this is a brothel,” she whispered to Gendry. “You don’t even know what a brothel is.” “I
do so,” she insisted. “It’s like an inn, with girls.” He was turning red again. “What are you doing here, then?” he demanded. “A brothel’s no fit place for
no bloody highborn lady, everybody knows that.” One of the girls sat down on the bench beside him. “Who’s a highborn lady? The little skinny one?” She looked at HKBU BBA
Arya and laughed. “I’m a king’s daughter myself.” Arya knew she was being mocked. “You are not.” “Well, I might be.” When the girl shrugged, her gown
slipped off one shoulder. “They say King Robert, back before the battle. Not that he didn’t have all the other girls too, but
Leslyn says he liked my ma the best.” The girl did have hair like the old king’s, Arya thought; a great thick mop of it, as black as coal. That doesn’t mean
anything, though. Gendry has the same kind of hair too. Lots of people have black hair. “I’m named Bella,” the girl told Gendry. “For the battle. I bet I could
ring your bell, too. You want to?” “No,” he said gruffly. “I bet you do.” She ran a hand along his arm. “I don’t cost nothing to friends of Thoros and the
lightning lord.” “No, I said.” Gendry rose abruptly and stalked away from the table out into the night. Bella turned to Arya. “Don’t he like girls?” Arya
shrugged. “He’s just stupid. He likes to polish helmets and beat on swords with hammers.”