"Pollen?" William asked, voice strained. "I doubt that some dust from a flower caused this illness in Gwyn. I demand another inquiry into the matter." It wasn't normally his style to demand anything, but if being King meant having luxuries, then William was trading in on that position to get something that he and Kaelyn desperately needed--answers. It wasn't fair for young Gwyn to lay ill when all around her others had either lived or died. To be kept in stasis was torture, for everyone involved.
"Is that all the maesters of the mighty Citadel can tell us, or are there things between the lines in Oldtown?"
It was pointed and his tone was sharper than usual, but he was certain Haine had heard worse from other lips.