"Ah, just so. The sea she is not always the kindest mistress, but she is sweet to those who may read her moods." It was said with the tired affection of a devoted sea captain.
He sat back, finishing the tea but favoring her with a more thoughtful look than he would have a Stark. Alethea, Polonius, they were holdovers from Paegon and had long since earned his respect. Their regent was a different matter, but they were not entirely responsible for the creatures they served. "Words they are saying, many words which are meaning only that they will not say. Protection, the Whisper Lord says. They hold her from me for her protection. As if I could not protect her better? As if my nephew could not? No, what I am hearing is they do not trust us, do not trust her. They are perhaps thinking she murdered Princess Aenyris." Sandro's gaze sharpened dangerously. "Is this what you have heard, Alethea?"