She averted her eyes quickly, afraid to ask, afraid to look too long, afraid he might be someone she knew.
They found Queen Cersei in the council chambers, seated at the head of a long table littered with papers, candles, and blocks of sealing wax.
The room was as splendid as any that Sansa had ever seen.
She stared in awe at the carved wooden screen and the twin sphinxes that sat beside the door.
Your Grace, Sir Boros said when they were ushered inside by another of the Kingsguard, Sir Mandon of the curiously dead face, "I've brought the girl."
Sansa had hoped Joffrey might be with her.
Her prince was not there, but three of the king's councillors were.
Lord Petyr Baelish sat on the queen's left hand, Grand Maester Pycelle at the end of the table, while Lord Varys hovered over them, smelling flowery.
All of them were clad in black, she realized with a feeling of dread. Mourning clothes...
The queen wore a high-collared black silk gown, with a hundred dark red rubies sewn into her bodice, covering her from neck to bosom.
They were cut in the shape of teardrops, as if the queen were weeping blood.
Cersei smiled to see her, and Sansa thought it was the sweetest and saddest smile she had ever seen.