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"You sure you don't want to reconsider?"
Littlefinger wasn't ready to drop it.
"Lord Baelish," Leo said evenly, "remember what I told you the first day we met? Back in my homeland there's an old saying: true gold always shines."
"Lands, titles, castles… yeah, I want all of it. But I'm going to earn them myself, not by marrying into them. I don't want people whispering that I rode a woman's coattails to the top. And I'm sure as hell not going to be the bastard who takes advantage of a girl whose mind doesn't work right."
Littlefinger studied Leo's serious face and thought, What an honor-obsessed fool.
Still… fools like him are easier to control.
Too bad he couldn't turn the kid into a proper pawn.
"Very well," Littlefinger said with a small sigh. "I'll pass your answer along to Lady Tanda."
"Just make it clear I'm not rejecting Lollys out of spite," Leo added quickly. "I don't want any unnecessary bad blood. And tell her if Lollys ever needs help in the future, I'll be there."
"I understand. I'll deliver your sincerity and your… sense of honor… exactly as you said."
Leo nodded toward the feast. "I'd like a moment alone. If there's nothing else…"
Littlefinger gave a polite bow and slipped back into the crowd. He found Lady Tanda and relayed Leo's decision.
The moment she heard it, her face fell. She glanced at her simple-minded daughter beside her and could only sigh.
After excusing himself from Lady Tanda, Littlefinger wandered the feast with a wine cup in hand until he reached another table tucked in the shadows. A richly dressed noblewoman sat there alone.
"How did your little errand go?" she asked without looking up, nibbling at the food on her plate.
Littlefinger didn't sit. He stood at her side as if talking to himself.
"The boy's just like your brother-in-law—stubborn as a mule and twice as honorable. He cares more about his precious reputation than lands or titles."
The noblewoman he spoke of was Lysa Tully—Lady Arryn, wife of Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King. Her older sister was Catelyn Stark.
In her youth Lysa had been pretty, slim, and painfully shy, hopelessly in love with Littlefinger. Instead she was married off to a man old enough to be her father. After multiple miscarriages she finally gave him a son, Robin, but her body had changed. She was now plump, pale, and looked far older than her years.
The one thing that hadn't changed was her obsession with Littlefinger. She felt nothing but disgust for her husband Jon.
Behind closed doors the two of them had been meeting in secret… and plotting.
Lysa glanced toward her husband, who was deep in conversation with the king, then whispered urgently, "So what happens to your plan now? How much longer do I have to wait? I can't stand looking at that old man's face another day…"
"Shh—not here," Littlefinger soothed. "I promised you I'd make it happen soon. Trust me."
He raised his cup in a casual toast and drifted away.
---
Across the feast, at the royal table.
Queen Cersei had already left early, claiming illness and taking the children with her. Only King Robert, Hand Jon Arryn, Grand Maester Pycelle, and Varys remained.
Robert's brothers were absent—Stannis hated these parties and had left after the opening toast; Renly was probably off somewhere with one of his lovers.
"Varys," Jon Arryn said, setting his cup down, "it's been days. Have you found anything on the matter I asked you to investigate?"
"I do have some news, my lord," Varys answered with a small bow. "My little birds across the Narrow Sea report that several people did indeed see a large fleet from the east. Some even traded with them and said the men were very generous with their coin."
"However… the fleet only stopped briefly to resupply before sailing on. Very few people actually spoke with them. My birds also heard that their lord was an adventurer who planned to sail even farther—into the Smoking Sea, of all places. That is all we have so far."
Varys had kept his promise to Leo and spun the lie exactly as agreed. The story was vague enough that if it ever fell apart, he could blame faulty reports from his informants.
"By the Seven!" Robert belched. "He never mentioned the Smoking Sea! That's a cursed stretch of water. Takes real courage to sail into it. I like the lad even more now!"
He turned to the frail Grand Maester Pycelle. "There—proof enough for you? The boy really is a duke's second son from an ancient eastern empire."
"Your Grace… I was only doing my duty," Pycelle wheezed, sounding like he might collapse at any moment. "A man who appeared from nowhere… we had to be certain… for the safety of the crown and the realm…"
Jon Arryn nodded. "The Grand Maester is right. We cannot entrust important matters to someone whose background we do not know. Verifying his story was necessary."
Robert spread his hands. "Fine, fine. We checked. He's clean. Can we drop it now?"
Jon shrugged. Pycelle gave a reluctant nod. Varys simply lowered his head, the corners of his mouth curving into the tiniest smile.
---
Leo had no idea two separate groups at the feast were talking about him.
He walked back toward his tent, sipping a flask of Eversong wine he'd pulled from his bag. The stuff only cost fifty copper per jug from the vendor and tasted better than most Arbor vintages. He was already thinking about how much he could make selling it.
That was when Onyxia's voice suddenly rang inside his head.
"Leo! Let me out—now!"
Leo stopped mid-step.
This was the first time she had ever contacted him first… and she sounded urgent.
"What's wrong?" he asked silently.
"No time to explain! Summon me. I need to check something!"
"But if I bring you out here—"
The camp perimeter was still close enough that guards and late-night revelers were wandering around. A full-grown dragon would cause a panic.
"I'll take human form. No one will see the dragon. Hurry!"
"Fine—give me a second." Leo quickened his pace, slipped into a dark, empty corner behind the tents, and opened the Collections tab.