Before leaving, Daeron called Tyrion in to give him his orders.
"Your Grace."
Tyrion kept his head down.
"What's wrong?"
Daeron could tell something was eating at him.
Tyrion shook his head. "Just personal stuff. Tell me what you need."
Daeron let it go. "While I'm gone, Tywin's running things. With that vindictive streak of his, he's going to go after House Velaryon hard. Your job is to play it smart—keep him from going too far."
He wanted the Lannisters and Velaryons at each other's throats, not a blood feud that wrecked the realm.
Tyrion was sharp enough to catch the meaning. He was supposed to act as a buffer.
"Understood, Your Grace."
Then Tyrion asked the obvious question. "Where exactly are you headed?"
"Volantis or Qohor," Daeron answered honestly.
Tyrion's eyes lit up. "The dragon egg?"
"That's right. Gerion found six eggs in the Smoking Sea. Rhaegar only brought two back."
Daeron's job was to recover the rest—eggs or hatched dragons.
"Dragon eggs are too important to let some fake dragon king get his hands on them," Tyrion said with real conviction.
He'd always had a thing for dragons. The idea of some pretender hoarding one made him want to see the man burned.
Daeron stopped by the nursery on his way out. Little Inar was curled up in his cradle, arms wrapped around a dragon egg like it was a favorite toy. Daeron leaned in and poked the boy's soft cheek.
"Wake him up and you're the one soothing him," Shaena said from her chair, half-finished embroidery in her hands.
Daeron glanced at her, then flipped the baby over and gave his little butt a sharp smack.
"Waaahhh!"
After the predictable chaos, Daeron left the queen's chambers in a good mood, leaving Shaena and Rhaenys to deal with the screaming heir.
Inar wasn't usually a crier. But Daeron couldn't resist playing with his son.
"First stop—Myr. I need more eyes on the ground to track the egg."
His mood was light, thoughts clear. The distance between Volantis and Qohor was massive. Finding the people moving the egg would be like searching for a needle in the ocean unless he had people watching the routes.
If everything went smoothly, he might even get a look at the Valyrian Peninsula while he was out there.
The Summer Sea.
Victarion stood on the deck of the Invincible Ironborn, staring at the haze-covered Smoking Sea while clear skies stretched behind them.
"My lord, how much longer are we supposed to wait? We're running low on supplies and fresh water."
Rodrik sounded frustrated. The ironborn had been at sea too long—eating monkey meat on Cedar Island, raiding New Ghis, then getting pushed back out here. They were homesick for the Iron Islands.
Victarion didn't take his eyes off the Smoking Sea. "If we need supplies, we take them from Volantis. They looted enough iron coin from New Ghis to feed an army."
"But my lord—"
"Enough. Stop making excuses for that bastard."
Victarion cut him off. "The king ordered us to watch the Smoking Sea. Prince Rhaegar's inside and might need backup. And—"
His face twisted with raw hatred. "According to Rhaegar, that kinslaying piece of shit Euron is somewhere nearby. I'm waiting for him to come out."
Euron had murdered their father. That debt would be paid in blood.
Rodrik tried again. "Even if Euron was in the Smoking Sea, that underwater volcano eruption probably turned him to ash. Unless the Drowned God himself carried him out."
Victarion wasn't listening. He was convinced that if Euron had escaped early, his greedy, reckless nature would drag him back eventually. So they waited.
"Look. The Smoking Sea's shrunk again."
Machiro stepped up beside him, his massive frame wrapped in red robes like a living statue carved from dragonstone.
Victarion pointed. "See that reef? Ten days ago it was still inside the haze. Now it's sitting in sunlight."
By his reckoning, the cursed waters had pulled back at least a hundred yards.
Machiro nodded slowly. "The Lord of Light showed me. When the haze finally clears, the Valyrian Peninsula will return to the world."
"Tell me something I don't already know."
Victarion hated priests.
Machiro fell silent.
"Prince Rhaegar's been in there a long time," Victarion said suddenly.
Rodrik perked up. He'd heard the rumors spreading among the ironborn—every midnight, strange wailing came from inside the Smoking Sea. Some said ghosts. Some said wind through the rocks. Some swore it was a dragon.
Even if there is a dragon, the volcano probably burned it to nothing, Rodrik thought.
"Movement behind us."
Victarion spun around. Several large ships were approaching under Volantis tiger-head banners.
"Volantis patrol ships," Rodrik said.
Victarion shoved him aside. "Pass the word. Tell those whoresons to stay sharp. If any Volantis scum gets too close to the Smoking Sea, we hit them hard."
Everyone knew Volantis had been working with Euron. Victarion wasn't in a forgiving mood.
Volon Therys.
Daeron and Jaehaerys moved through the crowded streets in plain black cloaks, blending in with a merchant caravan. They'd left the dragons outside the city—too obvious otherwise.
"Brother, is Viserys actually going to be okay on his own?" Jaehaerys kept his voice low under the hood.
"You're overacting, little Jae."
Daeron looked completely natural, like he belonged in the black robes of a wizard. Nobody bothered wizards.
Jaehaerys went quiet.
"Relax," Daeron said. "Tywin will focus on clearing out the nobles causing trouble near Myr and on punishing House Velaryon. Viserys just has to stay hidden in Myr with Tristan keeping an eye on things. No one will notice the switch."
They needed the extra dragonrider for high-altitude scouting over the massive distances between Volantis and Qohor. Viserys was too unreliable to bring along—he'd slow them down.
"I hope you're right," Jaehaerys muttered.
Daeron smiled. "Give him some credit. He's a dragonrider now. Even got himself knighted recently. He's not completely useless."
Jaehaerys looked around. "Did Lord Varys's people say the group we're after is still in town?"
"Follow me."
Daeron led them straight to a high-end brothel. Jaehaerys slowed down, clearly reluctant, but followed because he trusted his brother.
Inside, it was exactly what you'd expect—naked men and women tangled together in the open, moans and laughter everywhere. Daeron tossed a pouch of coins to the madam and headed straight for the third floor.
A few scantily dressed young women soon joined them in the room.
"Brother—"
Jaehaerys held up his hands like he was surrendering, refusing to look directly at any of them. He was still painfully innocent about these things.
Daeron waved the girls off to entertain themselves and lay back on the soft couch, perfectly relaxed. He'd seen far worse in his time. These women didn't interest him.
According to Varys, the group transporting the egg had split into two teams after arriving in Volon Therys—one staying at this brothel, the other in cheaper housing elsewhere. This was their hideout.
Daeron closed his eyes and let his sharp hearing filter out the noise around him, focusing on the low conversation coming from the next room.
"—heard the latest? Volantis is picking new archons again. Several big Black Wall families are circling that weakling Dofas."
"Of course. The Black Wall crowd's been whispering about whether the new archon will come from the Chida family or the Stangoni family."
Daeron kept his breathing even, listening carefully.
"Chida and Stangoni?"
He didn't know much about Volantis's Black Wall nobles, but Varys had mentioned that one of the current Elephant Party archons was weak and on his way out. The Tiger Party archon Malacho had called him soft and a turncoat in letters.
Three names had come up as likely replacements: Berisio, Palachiro, and Arios.
The two family names the men next door were using probably matched the first and third.
"What about Palachiro?" Daeron thought.
Palachiro came from House Valeros—a wealthy, ancient Black Wall family with pure Valyrian blood.
Then he heard movement in the next room—someone packing.
"The boss said we leave tonight. Quietly."
A hoarse male voice.
Daeron's eyes opened. A sudden suspicion formed in his mind.
"I'm stepping out for a bit. Stay here."
He rolled off the couch, slipped out the window, and told Jaehaerys not to wander.
"Wait—what?"
Jaehaerys started to follow, but it was too late. Daeron was already gone.
The girls in the room looked at him nervously, then at the open window. They clearly thought he was some Valyrian-blooded noble here for a good time.
Jaehaerys rubbed his forehead. "What the hell am I supposed to do now?"
He understood the mission: keep these girls occupied and distracted so no one realized two Targaryens had been here.
"My lord… would you like us to serve you?" one of the girls asked timidly.
Jaehaerys shook his head fast. "No. Just… keep doing what you were doing."
He leaned out the window, but his brother had already vanished into the night.