Daenerys now had almost nothing, and her followers gained nothing from her. Yet she had done nothing to betray them.
She had secretly sworn that once she escaped her current predicament, she would reward them generously, to prove worthy of their loyalty. But she never expected a traitor to emerge so quickly.
"Who bribed you? Tell me, and I'll make your death quick."
"Khaleesi, Lord Xaro is as rich as a kingdom..."
Doreah, skilled in the arts of the bedroom, felt no compunction about keeping her employer's secrets.
"Khaleesi, what happened?" Jorah burst in, panting, his eyes sweeping over the chaotic courtyard as he asked urgently.
"It's Xaro," Daenerys said, her face grim.
"I knew it," Jorah murmured.
"How did you guess it was him?" Daenerys asked, puzzled. Xaro had shown no interest in her dragons.
"I only learned today of a peculiar Qartheen custom," Jorah explained. "On their wedding day, the wife may demand any token from her husband, and in return, she must give him whatever he asks for, no matter how unreasonable."
Daenerys hadn't realized that Xaro didn't desire her, but rather her dragons. That explained why his gaze yesterday had lacked any trace of lust.
"What do we do now?" Jorah asked, looking at Daenerys.
"Have you found a ship?" Daenerys wanted to leave Qarth immediately. The city didn't welcome her, and people kept coveting her dragons. Even Lord Xaro, who had seemed so courteous, had started openly trying to seize them. She didn't know how many more would follow suit.
This time, they had Drogon and the others, but they were still young. If more enemies came, even her little dragons might struggle to cope, and they wouldn't be as lucky as today.
Hearing Daenerys's question, Jorah replied with some guilt, "Not yet, but I did hear some news from Westeros."
Disappointment washed over Daenerys at the news that no ship had been found. She wanted to leave Qarth more than ever now, even more than she cared about news from Westeros.
"What's happening in Westeros?" she still asked.
"Eddard was beheaded... he..."
"Eddard was killed? Didn't you say the new king wouldn't kill him?"
Upon hearing that Eddard had truly been killed, Daenerys immediately confronted Jorah. He had confidently analyzed that the new king wouldn't kill Eddard, yet he was dead within days.
Drogon's prophecies were coming true one by one. After several shocks, Daenerys's nerves had grown thicker, and she was no longer as panicked as before.
This was partly thanks to Drogon's performance today. He had led Rhaegal and Viserion to burn down the Qarthians who had stolen the dragons. Had Drogon not intervened, Rhaegal and the others might have been captured at spear-point before they could even take flight.
If Drogon could save them once, could he save them a second or third time? Was this the real reason Drogon needed to train them? Only when they were strong themselves could they avoid certain death.
*I must push them harder in their training from now on,* Daenerys resolved grimly.
Jorah had no defense against her questioning. He hadn't expected the new King Joffrey to behead Eddard under these circumstances.
"Continue," Daenerys said. Seeing Jorah offer no defense, she knew his analysis that day had been sound. As for why the new king had killed Eddard, perhaps they had a personal grudge—that was the only explanation her political mind could conjure.
"After Eddard's execution, his eldest son Robb marched on King's Landing but was blocked by Tywin. The Imp, Tyrion, took over as Hand of the King. King Robert's brother Renly was assassinated, and his other brother Stannis is preparing to attack King's Landing."
"But the Imp is a dwarf. How could he become Hand of the King?" Daenerys asked, puzzled.
The Imp is no ordinary dwarf; he truly has the makings of a Hand of the King, Drogon thought, listening to the news from Westeros.
Drogon even knew about the Imp? And seemed to understand him well? Daenerys was slightly astonished. Could Drogon truly be the reincarnation of the black dragon "Blackfyre" Balerion the Black? And possess foresight?
Two successful prophecies had made Daenerys trust Drogon even more, and her mind began to wander.
"I don't know much about the Imp," Jorah admitted frankly.
This is why intelligence is so important. If only Varys the Spider were here. Drogon missed Varys.
*Who is Varys?* Hearing Drogon's thoughts, Daenerys felt a new question arise. She realized how little she truly knew about Westeros and King's Landing. Most of her information still came from her brother Viserion's incessant ramblings.
"How should we deal with Doreah?" Jorah asked, having learned the full story.
"Summon everyone to the courtyard," she replied. She despised betrayal, and would show no mercy, even to her closest servants.
"Khaleesi, please spare me this time! I swear it will never happen again!" Doreah pleaded, weeping, knowing her fate was sealed.
Daenerys ignored her, turning to gaze at the distant azure sky, her expression resolute and unyielding.
When all the Dothraki had gathered in the courtyard, Daenerys, disregarding Doreah's wails, signaled Rakharo to carry out the execution. Without a trace of pity, he swiftly severed Doreah's head.
The Dothraki, who held life and death in contempt—a wedding without a few deaths was hardly a proper celebration—shared her hatred for betrayal.
What a bewitching head. Drogon thought with a sigh of regret.
Daenerys: "..."
Seeing the severed head roll away, Jorah's heart gave a slight pang.
"Mother of Dragons! When will you visit the House of the Undying?" A sudden voice called out from the doorway.
The newcomer was bald and beardless, with sunken eyes, gray pupils, and blue lips—one of the Thirteen he had seen outside the gates of Qarth.
"Pyat Pree, the Warlock!" Jorah murmured under his breath. Pyat had invited her to the House of the Undying at Xaro's welcome feast, and now he had come in person.
Daenerys glanced at Jorah before replying, "Lord Pyat, I have been preoccupied with my travels and truly have no time to visit your dwelling. I will certainly pay my respects when I am free."
At the feast, she had already witnessed Pyat's unsettling nature, which reminded her of Mirri, the sorceress who had killed her husband and son. She preferred to keep such people at a distance.
"But the Undying have waited too long. As their servant, I am deeply troubled by this," Pyat said expressionlessly.
"The Undying?" Daenerys had never heard of him before.
"He is indeed our Lord."
"Please tell the Undying that I will visit soon," Daenerys continued to decline.
"You truly put me in a difficult position," Pyat Pree said, tilting his head slightly.