His dark eyes and swarthy skin and Paynim features suited the costume exactly: he looked the very model of an Eastern emir, an agent or a victim of the bowstring.
Lord Renly took a step back, taut as a bowstring. " Every moment you delay gives Cersei another moment to prepare. By the time Robert dies, it may be too late... for both of us. "
Jon notched a fire arrow to his bowstring, and Satin lit it from the torch. He stepped to the parapet, drew, aimed, loosed. Ribbons of flame trailed behind as the shaft sped downward and thudded into its target, crackling.