I beg you . Bring us Sandor's head, and I know His Grace will be most grateful. And does it matter who is regent for little Lord Robert, so long as the Vale remits its taxes? No, Cersei decided. Only then did the priest turn to the three riders, watching from their saddles.
She went to sleep dreaming of the fight they'd had, and of Ser Jaime fastening a rainbow cloak about her shoulders. Niglit belonged to Ihc bravos and the courtesans. e old gods are dead, she told herself, with Mother and Father and Robh and Bran and Rickon, all dead. She was twelve, ungainly and uncomfortable, waiting to meet the young knight her father had arranged fo
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