Jaehaerys closed his eyes against the wave of anger but more than that, the pain. Another loss on top of so many- the gods were mocking him. Already the faces of friends were beginning to blur and he pictured Aeny as she had been the last time they parted, with one of her rare smiles and an even more rare embrace... He'd promised to bring her something from Lys. That promise reached out to strike a blow at his remaining shreds of control.
Of all them, they had chosen for Aenyris to die like this? Always it was the sweet, the kind who must suffer.
"What game to these cursed shadows play?" he demanded. "No signs, no reason... would this be the Starks work then? Aenyris should have taken the throne, not Lord Stark. Only the question of Rhaeys' treachery held her from it and the Lords' fear she might bear the Targaryen madness. fools, all of us... Who would want her dead?" He turned to look at Tyrith, judging the lord's knowledge of the court. No, Tyrith spent his time abroad. If one wanted the pulse of the gossip, that would mean speaking to Elia or perhaps Toria... But Elia would know Aenyris and that would make a difference.
"I would see my aunt," he announced. "Elia may know some private feud or slight which could lead to an answer otherwise overlooked..."