Cersei Clinton looked out from her balcony at the high stone wall of the Traitor’s Walk. A row of decapitated heads set on iron spikes rose from the top of the wall. Though dipped in tar to better preserve them, the heads were swollen and difficult to identify. But Cersei knew them all.
There was Webster Hubbell, a pal from the Whitewater days. Next came Billy Ray Dale, who was forced out of the Red Keep’s Travel Office so that confidants from Casterly Rock could move into King’s Landing. Then Vince Foster, who played a role in both the Whitewater and Travelgate debacles. And Craig Livingstone, the political operative and erstwhile bar bouncer who had to take the fall for the Filegate scandal. Jorge Cabrera, the drug smuggler and moneyman whom Cersei invited to the coronation. Norman Hsu, another moneyman who bilked millions running Ponzi schemes in order to support the crown. And the most recent head: the hapless staffer who set up her private email server.
Cersei didn’t understand all the fuss. Her server was the best that money could buy, made from Valyerian steel so polished that she often used it as a mirror, admiring herself in her bright-colored pantsuits.
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