Chapter 202

As Tyrion’s envoy neared Dorne, the long-secluded ruler of the realm was preparing to depart as well—though no one knew it save his captain of guards.

As usual, Doran Martell had the captain wheel him out onto the balcony. Warm sunlight and the sight of living green eased his pain a little. He could sit there in silence all day; even speaking now brought sharper torment.

Maester Caleotte had fitted his chair with ebony-and-steel wheels and a cushion of goose down. Doran could scarcely live without it.