He saw the way the maester was frowning and hurriedly added, I didn't, though. Some old wounds never truly heal, and bleed again at the slightest word. Sansa had never had much of a head for figures. Why not come to me? you ask, and I must answer, Why, because I did not trust you, my lord.
The words tasted of bile in his throat, but he forced them out. It took hours for them all to cross. The moon floated on the still black waters, shattering and re-forming as her ripples washed over it. When he removed his helm, Sansa saw that he was an old man with hair as pale as his armor, yet he seemed strong andA GAME OF THRONES 129graceful for all that.
Join the newsletter to receive news, updates, new products and freebies in your inbox.