Sansa, my sweet child, she said, "I know you've been asking for me. I'm sorry that I could not send for you sooner.
Matters have been very unsettled, and I have not had a moment.
I trust my people have been taking good care of you?"
Everyone has been very sweet and pleasant, Your Grace, thank you ever so much for asking, Sansa said politely.
"Only, well, no one will talk to us or tell us what's happened... "
Us? Cersei seemed puzzled.
We put the steward's girl in with her, Sir Boros said. "We did not know what else to do with her."
The queen frowned. "Next time, you will ask," she said, her voice sharp.
"The gods only know what sort of tales she's been filling Sansa's head with."
Jeyne's scared, Sansa said. "She won't stop crying.
I promised her I'd ask if she could see her father."
Old Grand Maester Pycelle lowered his eyes.
Her father is well, isn't he? Sansa said anxiously.
She knew there had been fighting, but surely no one would harm a steward.
Vayon Poole did not even wear a sword.
Queen Cersei looked at each of the councillors in turn.
"I won't have Sansa fretting needlessly.
What shall we do with this little friend of hers, my lords?"
Lord Petyr leaned forward. "I'll find a place for her."
Not in the city, said the queen.
Do you take me for a fool?
The queen ignored that.
"Sir Boros, escort this girl to Lord Petyr's apartments and instruct his people to keep her there until he comes for her.