The Red Keep. Even in Bravos it was the crown jewel ofWesteros. How many times had he heard others talking about it? He’d neveractually dreamed of seeing it, but then his dreams had been rather focused onother aspects of life—like making his fortune. At almost twenty-four, Evan hadknown his fair share of struggle. The life of a ‘Stone’ was difficult even inthe free cities after all, but he’d been resilient. Determined to pull himselfout of the muck one might even say.
His hatred of filth and chaos might have been his undoing ifnot for the House of the Undying. There he had found his true place. Now he wasno one. Most might recall him as an ‘old friend’ but even that was little more thana fleeting memory of something that might have once been. Of course even thatlife had lost its appeal after he’d learned all that he could, and so he’deventually cut ties, moving on to become a sellsword. He’d hired out as aprotector, as a thief, and of course as an assassin, and while he remained ‘noone’ his purse grew heavy.
This latest job though…this was one that he had been eagerto fulfill. He never forgot to pay his dues to the God of Death of course, andmore than a few sailors had sailed their last with him, but those had beennibbles. Snacks. Now he was here for more, and his appetite was ravenous. Hehad wealth.
He studied the lists, noting his opponent with disinterest.The colorful shields were little more than splotches of paint in his opinion.They mattered little. He’d win. His gaze settled once again on the beautysitting in the riser beneath bawdy dark-haired king. His golden queen haddisappeared at some point. Evan didn’t care. Deep down he knew exactly who hewas. He bore the name Stone, but he had no doubt he was legitimate. His lineagewas pure. True, his father was a second son, cast out by his grandfather forclaiming affections to a less-than-noble woman, but that didn’t bother Evan. Heknew the only reason he bore the name ‘Stone’ was because his father had hopedto return home by lying. Unfortunately for him, Death had clearly had otherplans, since his ship had been set upon by the Iron Islands and he’d never madethat last leg of the journey home to reclaim his place in the Vale.
That was fine. With Jon Arryn dead and his boy little morethan a milk sop tied to his mother’s skirts, Evan was sure he would be able tofind his way back into his rightful place. The first thing he had to do wasprove his worth—and gain an alliance. He played with the rose he’d purchased inthe markets. He’d tied a brilliant shimmering blue scarf with silver tassels toit, one more claim to the Vale. They didn’t know who he was, not yet, but theywould soon enough. He’d do anythingnecessary to get what he wanted.
Clicking his tongue, he urged the huge black Andalusian he’dpurchased in Qarth before he’d set sale for Westeros, forward. He’d worriedabout the creature, but the man he’d paid to care for the animal during thevoyage had done well. Evan had paid him handsomely to continue as his squire.He drew to a halt before the railing and offered a deep bow at the waist. “Forgive my impertinence, m’lady, but suchbeauty surely deserves a token.”
He held the rose aloft, green eyes lockingwith hers as he waited to see if she’d accept before he gave a light toss,sending it floating her way. “I hope tosee you wear it this eve.” He added. It was bold, but he hadn’t got towhere he was by skulking about.
“If you win, maybe I will.”She sallied back, though he couldn’t help but notice the way her gaze slid offtoward the lists. She was shrewd, and she had secrets too. He liked that.Secrets he could work with. It was those too-sweet for words girls dressed upin ladies silks that he couldn’t handle.
He offered a tilt to the king (that was too deep in his cupsto even know what was going on) and with a daring wink at the siren he’d beenwatching the last few days as the tourney continued, he wheeled his horse aboutand headed back to the starting point.
They’d be calling his name soon after all.
