That's good. he would not kill you, not even for his queen, and there may lie our salvation. Men-at-arms carried burning brands out to light their way, and her uncle led them across the moat. But she had heard the talk in the yards; a direwolf dead in the snow, a broken antler in its throat.
She watched the smoke rise into the sky and thought sadly of all the books the Starks had gathered over the centuries. He has the look of a warrior. That is some small mercy, I suppose, he said. It did not bear thinking about.
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