He noticed as Kyra moved her mount closer. Still arch and wicked and full of life. Aksel focused deliberately on what she was saying instead. He rolled the reins over in his fingers, glad for her levity--it meant that she still trusted herself around him, which was good, and that she still enjoyed her work, which was even better. "A finer jest is what we have before us here. Kyra, you've done exceedingly well," he said with a long, approving smile. "You do me proud. What a fine Lady Tyrell you'll make, someday."
"If your wilting flower and the Citadel both had a hand in this, it surely ties back to Selester himself at some point. And that one's always liked me too much by half; for a man of his intelligence he ought to suspect us more." He nodded to himself. "How is he to you, Kyra?" he asked abruptly, fixing her with a sharp look. "Does he give you reason to think he sees past the warmth we feed him? Pity that the girl is lost... She must not be missed; no one else can know of this. We may need to use it to tie back some roses, soon.
"I do hear Jaehaerys takes poorly to attempts on his life. Has it already been found? Or could it--" he paused. "No, but they were shirts, your maid was sure, and not gowns, or anything else...?"