16/02/2026 11:10

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I'll help Wyl bring round the horses. Maester Aemon has the letter. Rakharo chose a stallion from the small herd that remained to them; he was not the equal of Khal Drogo's red, but few horses were. No, it was Lord Stannis, WaIder Frey said irritably.

Small wonder he had slept so badly. The word was a knife through Bran's heart. A long line of gold-cloaked spearmen held back the crowd, commanded by a stout man in elaborate armor, all black lacquer and gold filigree. Are we leaving? she echoed.