"That would be rather a miracle," Daenerys murmured, her voice pitched low to match Margaery's. "So long as it got her out of here, I think it would be wise. So many memories she must long to be away from." Daenerys didn't much like it here because of even the stories of what hat happened to her own family, to say nothing of what poor Sansa must have felt from having seen such awful things.

She was nearing the point where her good sense was waning just slightly, but she wasn't yet completely reckless. And even as she drank more, she still watched Margaery's expression for any signs of -- of something.

But that sense was all but vanished when Margaery put lips to her skin, intimate in such a way she'd only barely known, and it meant that she was quick to agree, "I would be glad to be out of this city. I've no taste for being played as a piece in someone else's game."

Her eyes went wide as soon as it was said -- even that vague remark could be considered inappropriate if heard by the wrong people, but at least she'd managed not to respond to the second suggestion, the secret she held closer still.