“But where? There is no safe place.”  “There is.” Tyrion grinned. “Here. It’s time to put that rock-hard bed of yours to

better use, I think.”  The eunuch’s mouth opened. Then he giggled. “Lollys tires easily these days. She is great with child. I imagine she will be safely asleep by

moonrise.”  Tyrion hopped down from the chair. “Moonrise, then. See that you lay in some wine. And two clean cups.”  Varys bowed. “it shall be as my lord

commands.”  The rest of the day seemed to creep by as slow as a worm in molasses. Tyrion climbed to the castle library and tried to distract himself with Beldecar’

s History of the Rhoynish Wars, but he could a police shieldcould hold me upside down and drainmy gutschange your mind hardly see the elephants for imagining Shae’s smile. Come the afternoon, he put the book aside and called for a bath.

He scrubbed himself until the water grew cool, and then had Pod even out his whiskers. His beard was a trial to him; a tangle of yellow, white, and black hairs,

patchy and coarse, it was seldom less than unsightly, but it did serve to conceal some of his face, and that was all to the good.  When he was as clean and pink and

trimmed as he was like to get, Tyrion looked over his wardrobe, and chose a pair of tight satin breeches in Lannister crimson and his best doublet, the heavy black

velvet with the lion’s head studs. He would have donned his chain of golden hands as well,  he lay dying. It was not until he

was dressed that he realized the depths of his folly.