Lady Larra's bow was exquisite, so weighed down with ornamentation that Dara was amazed she could draw it.
"My husband had it made for me," Larra said, all mischief. "He is a darling, my Mors."
Dara had not met Mors Blackmont - he was apparently away with the Dornish army, away north somewhere - but thought she might like him, if only because Lady Larra was so clearly enamoured with her husband. Dara had taken to her hostess, and had learned how keen her judgement was.
She was taken aback by how keen Larra's aim was, however.
Asric could not bring himself to watch when Larra turned her bow, after two perfect shots, towards Arthur.
"It will not kill him," Oberyn said softly, reaching over to squeeze Asric's shoulder in support. "I altered the formula a shade, weakened it enough that it will incapacitate him for as long as we need but nothing more. I would not kill him unless you willed it, Asric, surely you know that?"
Arthur was not moving when Asric looked, was spread out flat on the ground as though dead.
"Come," he said, before his stomach could turn, "we have only a short while."
Asric and Martyn were holding the midwife, which left Howland and Lady Larra to follow Dara up and up and up to where Lya was being kept.
"Ned!"