Chapter 137

Drogo and Daenerys sat side by side atop the towering sterncastle of the Dragon Gallant, higher than any and seeing farther than all.

Today the Stormborn was dressed with uncommon splendor. A net of crystal set with diamonds bound back her silver waterfall of hair; on her feet were pale-blue Qartheen slippers; her gown was a woman’s dress of ivory brocade shot with gold, its hems edged in Myrish lace-silk. When she lowered her arms, the long sleeves brushed the deck boards.

She was but fifteen. These were a grown woman’s clothes, not a girl’s—of that she was certain. But she needed this vesture of authority. She was going home.