Jaime hauled the last dragonking bodily o the steps, squealing likea pig and smelling like a privy.

So spare me your envy. It was the gods who neglectedto give you a cock, not me.”

A gift you want desperately, wench, and can never have.

Orperhaps your moon’s blood was on you. Never give a wench a swordwhen she’s bleeding.”

“Yes, and what you did as well. We’re both kingslayers here, ifwhat I’ve heard is true.”

but heresigned the Handship on some thin pretext and returned to CasterlyRock, taking his daughter with him. Instead of being together,Cersei and Jaime just changed places, and he found himself alone atcourt, guarding a mad king

excited him all the more. Jaime had never seen her more passionate.Every time he went to sleep, she woke him again. By morningCasterly Rock seemed a small price to pay to be near her always. Hegave his consent, and Cersei promised to do the rest.

Aerys had Ser Ilyn Payne’s tongue torn out just forboasting that it was the Hand who truly ruled the Seven Kingdoms.The captain of the Hand’s guard, and yet Father dared not try andstop it! He won’t stop this, either.

sleeping lion

Cersei took him aside andwhispered that Lord Tywin meant to marry him to Lysa Tully, hadgone so far as to invite Lord Hoster to the city to discuss dower. Butif Jaime took the white, he could be near her always.

Jaime sat against the bole of an oak and wondered what Cerseiand Tyrion were doing just now. “Do you have any siblings, mylady?” he asked.Brienne squinted at him suspiciously. “No. I was my father’s onlys—child.”Jaime chuckled. “Son, you meant to say. Does he think of you as ason? You make a queer sort of daughter, to be sure.”Wordless, she turned away from him, her knuckles tight on hersword hilt. What a wretched creature this one is. She reminded him ofTyrion in some queer way, though at rst blush two people couldscarcely be any more dissimilar. Perhaps it was that thought of hisbrother that made him say, “I did not intend to give oense,Brienne. Forgive me.

Brienne considered them briey, and thenswung her horse onto the southern road. Jaime was pleasantlysurprised; it was the same choice he would have made.

huge ugly cow ofa woman.

Thesaddlecloth had originally been checkered pink and black,

And the lightning lord’s been seen in these parts as well. He crossesthe river wherever he likes, riding this way and that way, neverstill.”“And who is this lightning lord?” demanded Ser Cleos Frey.“Lord Beric, as it please you, ser. They call him that ’cause hestrikes so sudden, like lightning from a clear sky. It’s said he cannotdie.”They all die when you shove a sword through them, Jaime thought.“Does Thoros of Myr still ride with him?”“Aye. The red wizard. I’ve heard tell he has strange powers.”

ride by way ofDuskendale

“Seize him, and take his dirk. He means to use it onour lady.”

The boy went down as well, but he was up again almost at once.“What are you doing here?” he demanded as he brushed himself o.Jet-black hair fell to his collar, and his eyes were a startling blue.“You shouldn’t get in my way when I’m running.”

hell

Salladhor Saan pushed himself to his feet. “You are no true friend,I am thinking. When you are dead, who will be bringing your ashesand bones back to your lady wife and telling her that she has lost ahusband and four sons? Only sad old Salladhor Saan. But so be it,brave ser knight, go rushing to your grave. I will gather your bonesin a sack and give them to the sons you leave behind, to wear inlittle bags around their necks.” He waved an angry hand, with ringson every nger. “Go, go, go, go, go.”

“And this is why,” said Davos. “To do this thing. To make an endof Melisandre of Asshai and all her works. Why else would the seahave spit me out? You know Blackwater Bay as well as I do, Salla.No sensible captain would ever take his ship through the spears ofthe merling king and risk ripping out his bottom. Shayala’s Danceshould never have come near me.”“A wind,” insisted Salladhor Saan loudly, “an ill wind, is all. Awind drove her too far to the south.”“And who sent the wind? Salla, the Mother spoke to me.”The old Lyseni blinked at him. “Your mother is dead ...”“The Mother. She blessed me with seven sons, and yet I let themburn her. She spoke to me. We called the re, she said. We calledthe shadows too. I rowed Melisandre into the bowels of Storm’s Endand watched her birth a horror.” He saw it still in his nightmares,the gaunt black hands pushing against her thighs as it wriggled freeof her swollen womb. “She killed Cressen and Lord Renly and abrave man named Cortnay Penrose, and she killed my sons as well.Now it is time someone killed her.”

Melisandre. Davos shivered. “The red woman did this to him,” hesaid. “She sent the re to consume us, to punish Stannis for settingher aside, to teach him that he could not hope to win without hersorceries.”

“Illyrio Mopatis.

Salladhor Saan threaded his way between the jars of spice and boltsof cloth that lled the hold of the merchanter, wrapped Davos in aerce embrace, then kissed him once on each cheek and a third timeon his forehead. “You are still warm, ser, and I feel your heartthumpety-thumping. Can it be true? The sea that swallowed you hasspit you up again.”

table he spent the rest of the day withone end or the other dangling over the rail

“So wide open that I fear you may fall through it, and live all therest of your days as a wolf of the woods.”

He was the only one who liked Bran’s plan, though. Meera justsmiled at him and Jojen frowned. They never listened to what hewanted, even though Bran was a Stark and a prince besides, and theReeds of the Neck were Stark bannermen

wo crannogmen a thousand leagues fromthe Neck.

jen Reed was thirteen, only fouryears older than Bran.

But his sister hadleft the wilds, to walk in the halls of man-rock where other huntersruled, and once within those halls it was hard to nd the path backout.

.. all but the sister they had lost. His taildrooped when he remembered her. Four now, not ve. Four and onemore, the white who has no voice.

Prince. The man-sound came into his head suddenly, yet he couldfeel the rightness of it. Prince of the green, prince of the wolfswood. He

. And I tell youtruly, Daenerys, there is no man in all the world who will ever behalf so true to you as me.”

“You ... you should not have ...”“I should not have waited so long,” he nished for her. “I shouldhave kissed you in Qarth, in Vaes Tolorru. I should have kissed youin the red waste, every night and every day. You were made to bekissed, often and well.” His eyes were on her breasts.

“And my vest—” shestarted to say, turning.Ser Jorah slid his arms around her.“Oh,” was all Dany had time to say as he pulled her close andpressed his lips down on hers. He smelled of sweat and salt andleather, and the iron studs on his jerkin dug into her naked breastsas he crushed her hard against him. One hand held her by theshoulder while the other slid down her spine to the small of her

but three living dragons, andthose were hers; they were a wonder, and a terror, and beyondprice.

Until one day Prince Rhaegar found something in hisscrolls that changed him.

Young Lord Connington was dear to the prince as well,

His name wasArstan,

ut the dragons the Seven Kingdoms knew best werethose of House Targaryen. They were bred for war, and in war theydied.

ut when she told her brother, Viserys had twisted her hairuntil she cried. “You are blood of the dragon,” he had screamed ather. “A dragon, not some smelly sh.”

DaenerysTargaryen was as happy as she could ever remember being.

dragons chase each other across a cloudless blue sky,

“And did you see where I was seated, Mance?” He leanedforward. “Did you see where they put the bastard?”Mance Rayder looked at Jon’s face for a long moment. “I think wehad best nd you a new cloak,” the king said, holding out his hand.

She was dead, as it happened, but her daughter saw to me.Cleaned my wounds, sewed me up, and fed me porridge and potionsuntil I was strong enough to ride again. And she sewed up the rentsin my cloak as well, with some scarlet silk from Asshai that hergrandmother had pulled from the wreck of a cog washed up on theFrozen Shore. It was the greatest treasure she had, and her gift tome.” He swept the cloak back over his shoulders. “But at theShadow Tower, I was given a new wool cloak from stores, black andblack, and trimmed with black, to go with my black breeches andblack boots, my black doublet and black mail. The new cloak had nofrays nor rips nor tears ... and most of all, no red. The men of theNight’s Watch dressed in black, Ser Denys Mallister reminded mesternly, as if I had forgotten. My old cloak was t for burning now,he said.“I left the next morning ... for a place where a kiss was not acrime, and a man could wear any cloak he chose.”

“Bael the Bard,” said Jon, remembering the tale that Ygritte hadtold him in the Frostfangs, the night he’d almost killed her.“Would that I were. I will not deny that Bael’s exploit inspiredmine own ... but I did not steal either of your sisters that I recall.

I was walking the wall around the yard when I came onyou and your brother Robb. It had snowed the night before, and thetwo of you had built a great mountain above the gate and werewaiting for someone likely to pass underneath.”“I remember,” said Jon with a startled laugh. A young blackbrother on the wallwalk, yes ... “You swore not to tell.”“And kept my vow. That one, at least.”

Mance Rayder laughed. “As you wish. Jon Snow, before youstands Tormund Giantsbane, Tall-talker, Horn-blower, and Breakerof Ice. And here also Tormund Thunderst, Husband to Bears, theMead-king of Ruddy Hall, Speaker to Gods and Father of Hosts.”

his ragged black woolcloak,

The singer rose to his feet. “I’m Mance Rayder,” he said as he putaside the lute. “And you are Ned Stark’s bastard, the Snow ofWinterfell.”

Jon felt utterly alone as he stood there in hisblacks, awaiting the pleasure of the turncloak who called himselfKing-beyond-the-Wall. When his eyes had adjusted to the smoky redgloom, he saw six people, none of whom paid him any mind. A darkyoung man and a pretty blonde woman were sharing a horn ofmead. A pregnant woman stood over a brazier cooking a brace ofhens, while a grey-haired man in a tattered cloak of black and redsat crosslegged on a pillow, playing a lute and singing:

to play the part of turncloak,

The wildlings had taken him foran oathbreaker, but in his heart he was still a man of the Night’sWatch, doing the last duty that Qhorin Halfhand had laid on him.Before I killed him.

“Willas has a bad leg but a good heart,” said Margaery. “He usedto read to me when I was a little girl, and draw me pictures of thestars. You will love him as much as we do, Sansa.”

“I CALLED FOR A KNIGHT, BUT YOU’RE A BEAR! A BEAR! ABEAR! ALL BLACK AND BROWN AND COVERED WITH HAIR!”

Oberyn Martell.

We were speaking of my grandson Willas. He is a bit oldfor you, to be sure, but a dear boy for all that. Not the least bitoash, and heir to Highgarden besides.”

rose. Ser Loras in white silk, so pure, innocent, beautiful. Thedimples at the corner of his mouth when he smiled. The sweetnessof his laugh, the warmth of his hand. She could only imagine whatit would be like to pull up his tunic and caress the smooth skinunderneath, to stand on her toes and kiss him, to run her ngersthrough those thick brown curls and drown in his deep brown eyes.A ush crept up her neck.

“I want you to tell me the truth about this royal boy,” said LadyOlenna abruptly. “This Jorey.”

All these kings would do a dealbetter if they would put down their swords and listen to theirmothers.”

“That Varys creature seemed tothink we should be grateful for the information. I

. She felt very like a pu shherself.

After LordPu Fish

As to your father, would that I’d been born a peasant woman with abig wooden spoon, I might have been able to beat some sense intohis fat head.”

The Baratheons have always had some queernotions, to be sure. It comes from their Targaryen blood, I shouldthink.” She snied. “They tried to marry me to a Targaryen once,but I soon put an end to that.”

The old woman smelled of rosewater. Why, she’s just the littlest bitof a thing. There was nothing the least bit thorny about her.

“Their mothernamed them Erryk and Arryk, but Grandmother can’t tell themapart, so she calls them Left and Right.”

Maidenvault since King Baelor the Blessed had conned his sisterstherein, so the sight of them might not tempt him into carnalthoughts.

He took his hand from her arm. “I slew Robar at Storm’s End, mylady.” It was not a boast; he sounded sad.Him, and another of King Renly’s Rainbow Guard as well, yes. Sansahad heard the women talking of it round the well, but for a momentshe’d forgotten. “That was when Lord Renly was killed, wasn’t it?How terrible for your poor sister.”“For Margaery?” His voice was tight. “To be sure. She was atBitterbridge, though. She did not see.”“Even so, when she heard ...”Ser Loras brushed the hilt of his sword lightly with his hand. Itsgrip was white leather, its pommel a rose in alabaster. “Renly isdead. Robar as well. What use to speak of them?”The sharpness in his tone took her aback. “I ... my lord, I ... I didnot mean to give oense, ser.”“Nor could you, Lady Sansa,” Ser Loras replied, but all thewarmth had gone from his voice. Nor did he take her arm again.

Ser Loras gave her a modest smile. “I spoke only a simple truth,that any man with eyes could see.”He doesn’t remember, Sansa realized, startled. He is only being kindto me, he doesn’t remember me or the rose or any of it. She had been socertain that it meant something, that it meant everything. A red rose,not a white. “It was after you unhorsed Ser Robar Royce,” she said,desperately.

Garlan

I am talking to him, and he’s touching me, he’sholding my arm and touching me.

The sight of Ser Loras Tyrell standing on herthreshold made Sansa’s heart beat a little faster.

if there was one thing that Sansa Stark had learnedhere, it was mistrust

Hermother and grandmother followed close behin

She was sixteen

the heart-shaped face, the red eyes, the long coppery hair, herred gowns moving like ames as she walked

My luck. His shortened ngers patted at his chest,groping, nding nothing. The pouch was gone, and the ngerboneswith them. S

Instead he sucked in a great gulp of air and dove

Why should I live? he thought as tears blurred his vision. Gods begood, why? My sons are dead, Dale and Allard, Maric and Matthos,perhaps Devan as well. How can a father outlive so many strong youngsons? How would I go on? I am a hollow shell, the crab’s died, there’snothing left inside. Don’t they know that?

You, who killed your mother to come into theworld?

“Jorey and Margaery shall marry on the rst day of the newyear, which as it happens is also the rst day of the new century.The ceremony will herald the dawn of a new era.”

Uncle Tygett, a boy of thirteen. Hehad vanished in the riot, not long after wedding the LadyErmesande, a suckling babe who happened to be the last survivingheir of House Hayford. And likely the rst bride in the history of theSeven Kingdoms to be widowed before she was weaned.

My hirelings betray me, my friends are scourged and shamed, and I liehere rotting, Tyrion thought. I thought I won the bloody battle. Is thiswhat triumph tastes like?

She was no little girl in the dream; she was a wolf, huge andpowerful, and when she emerged from beneath the trees in front ofthem and bared her teeth in a low rumbling growl, she could smellthe rank stench of fear from horse and man alike. The Lyseni’smount reared and screamed in terror, and the others shouted at oneanother in mantalk, but before they could act the other wolves camehurtling from the darkness and the rain, a great pack of them, gauntand wet and silent.

It was mushy andoverripe, but she ate it worms and all.

she wore a sword across her back,

Tully men did not surrender easily, no matter theodds.

“Your son will be heir to Winterfell andmine to the Eyrie. Oh, they’ll be the best of friends, like your Nedand Lord Robert. They’ll be more brothers than cousins, truly, I justknow it.” She was so happy.

Could Tansy be some pet name he called Lysa, the way he called meCat?

“Was it news of Robb?”He hesitated. “Yes, my lady

“There was a raven today, I saw. Has Jaime been taken again?” Orslain, gods forbid?

“Dead.” His hand groped for hers. “You’llhave others ... sweet babes, and trueborn.”

What would you say if you knew my crime, Father? shewondered. Would you have done as I did, if it were Lysa and me in thehands of our enemies? Or would you condemn me too, and call itmother’s madness?

He had seen Lord Hoster’s little Cat become ayoung woman, a great lord’s lady, mother to a king. And now he hasseen me become a traitor as well.

“And you actually mean to keep it?” Jaime gave her his brightestsmile. “Now there’s a wonder.”

Pretty eyes, he thought, and calm.

“I hope to blind my enemies with the sheen o my head. It’s workedwell enough for you.”

Brienne seemed to have a keen eye for the dangers, though, andalways seemed to nd the channel

I don’t look as much like Cersei this way. She’llhate that.

“Let Robert do as he pleases. I’ll go to war with him if I must. TheWar for Cersei’s Cunt, the singers will call it.”“Jaime, let go of me!” she raged, struggling to rise.

He amused himself by picturing her in one of Cersei’s silkengowns in place of her studded leather jerkin. As well dress a cow insilk as this one.

as soft andfragrant as Cersei’s ngers.

JAIME

The snow’s taken it all from me ... the bloody snow...Snow had ruined him once before. Snow and his pet pig.

Gloomy horse-faced fool,

“I hit him.” Ser Piggy sounded shocked. “Grenn,did you see? Edd, look, I hit him!”

take her, and none of this giving her owers so that maybe she don’tnotice your bloody boils.

She stopped laughing when he put his knife in her. Thatwas sweet, the look on her face, so he pulled the knife out and put itin her again. When they caught him down near Sevenstreams, oldLord Walder Frey hadn’t even bothered to come himself to do thejudging. He’d sent one of his bastards, that Walder Rivers, and thenext thing Chett had known he was walking to the Wall with thatfoul-smelling black devil Yoren. To pay for his one sweet moment,they took his whole life

. “Mormont will be dead beforedaybreak, remember?

Sappho

Sh elley perhaps was sexless.

Poetry ought to have a motheras well as a father. The Fascist poem, one may fear, willbe a horrid little abortion such as one sees in a glass jarin the museum of some county town.

the Fascist era

ne blushes at all these capital letters asif one had been caught eavesdropping at some purelymasculine orgy.

But how interesting itwould have been if the relationship between the twowomen had been more complicated. All these relation-ships between women,

Then I may tell you thatthe very next words I read were the se-"C hloe likedOlivia ... ,, Do not start. Do not blush. Let us admitin the privacy of our own society that these things some-times happen. Sometimes women do like women.

Hence the difficulty of comingto any agreement about novels, and the immense swaythat our private pr ejudices ha ve upon us. On the onehand, we feel You-John th e hero- mu st live, or I shallbe in the depths of despair. On the other, we feel, Alas,John, you must die, because the shape of the book re-quires it. Life conflicts with something th at is not life.Then since life it is in part, we judge it as life.

Evidently thecrazy Duchess became a bogey to frighten clever girlswith.

FlorenceNightingale shrieked aloud in her agony. 1

Opinion s that one now pastes in a book labelled cock-a-doodle-dum a

we have the very words used againin this ye ar of grace, 1928,

killed herself one winter's night and lies buriedat some cross-roads where the omnibuses now stop out-side the Elephant and Castle.

A very queer co mposite being chu emerges. Imagi-natively he is of the highe t importance; practically sheis co mpletely insignificant. She pervades poetry fromcover to cover; she is all b ut absent fron, hist ory. Shedominates the lives of kings and co nqu erors in fi ctio n;in fact she was th e slave of any b oy wh ose parents forceda ring up on h er fin ger. Some of the mo st inspired words,so me of the most profound th oug hts in literature fallfrom her lips ; in re al life she co uld hardly read, couldscarcely sp e ll , and was the pr op erty of her hu sband.

" It remains a stra-nge and almost inexplicable fac t that in Athena's city,where women were kept in almost Oriental sup pression as odalisques ordrudges, the stage should yet have produced figures like Clytemnestra andCassandra, Ato ss a and Antigone, Phedre and Medea, and all the other her-oines who dominate play after play of t he 'misogynist' Euripides. But theparadox of this world where in r eal !ife a respectable woman could hardlyshow her face alone in the street, and yet on the stage woman equals orsurpasses man, has never been satisfactorily explained

M o reover, in a hundr ed years, I th o ug ht ,reac hin g my own door s tep , women will have ceased tobe the protected sex. L og ically th ey will take part in allthe activities and exertions that were once den ie d them.

True, they had money andpow er, but only at th e cost of harbouring in their breastsan eagle, a vulture, for ever tearing the liver out andplucking at the lungs

Women haveserved all these centuries as looking-glasses possessingthe magic and delicious power of reflecting the figure ofman at twice its natural size.

Andh ow can we generate this imponderable quality, whichis yet so invaluable, most quic kJ y? By thinking that othe rpeo pl e are inferior to one self. By feeling that one hassome innate superiority-it may be wealth, or rank, astraight nose, or the portrait of a grandfather byR omney-fo r there is no end to th e pathetic devices ofthe human imagination-over other people.

why,

What had our m othe rs beendoing then that they had no wealth to leave u s?

, if any thing , a little f as ter than before,because it was now evening (s even tw en ty- thr ee to bepr ecise) and a breeze (from the s outhw est to be exact)had risen

b:1ck into the pa r, bcfore the" 'ar indeed. and to ct befo re my eye the model ofanother lunche on party held in ro oms not very far di tantfrom the e; but different.

But they seldom spare a wordfor what was eaten.

laboratorie · the ob ervat ries; the plcndid equipmentof co tlv and delicate in strume nt which n O\V rands on•glas shelves where centurie ago the gras c waved andth e s '\\rine rootled.

da , that preceded my coming her e

a woman musthave money and a room of her own if she is to writefiction;

The stone is strong, Bran toldhimself, the roots of the trees go deep, and under the ground the Kings ofWinter sit their thrones. So long as those remained, Winterfell remained. Itwas not dead, just broken. Like me, he thought. I’m not dead either.

Outside, they made theirfarewells. Rickon sobbed and clung to Hodor’s leg until Osha gave him asmack with the butt end of her spear. Then he followed her quick enough.Shaggydog stalked after them. The last Bran saw of them was the direwolf’stail as it vanished behind the broken tower.

“Listen,” Luwin said to Osha, “the princes ... Robb’s heirs. Not ... nottogether ... do you hear?”The wildling woman leaned on her spear. “Aye. Safer apart. But where totake them? I’d thought, might be these Cerwyns ...”

Tears filled Bran’s eyes. When a man was hurt you took him to the maester,but what could you do when your maester was hurt?

On the edge of the black pool, beneath the shelter of the heart tree, MaesterLuwin lay on his belly in the dirt. A

he turned to give his father one last look, and it seemed toBran that there was a sadness in Lord Eddard’s eyes, as if he did not wantthem to go. We have to, he thought. It’s time.

Lord Eddard Stark,beneath his stately granite likeness, the six fugitives huddled round their little

He could reach Summer whenever hewanted, and once he had even touched Ghost and talked to Jon.

The dark place was pulling at him by then, the house of whispers where allmen were blind.

The smoke and ash clouded his eyes, and in the skyhe saw a great winged snake whose roar was a river of flame. He bared histeeth, but then the snake was gone. Behind the cliffs tall fires were eating upthe stars

Men, many men, many horses, and fire, fire, fire.

“No,” she said. “There’s nothing behind us.” The look she gave him wassad. “By now Mance is well down the Milkwater, marching on your Wall.”

He knew, he thought numbly. He knew what they would ask of me. Hethought of Samwell Tarly then, of Grenn and Dolorous Edd, of Pyp and Toadback at Castle Black. Had he lost them all, as he had lost Bran and Rickonand Robb? Who was he now? What was he?

and Qhorin Halfhand fell.

“The bird hates you, Jon Snow,” said Ygritte. “And well he might. He wasa man, before you killed him.”

“No!” The word burst from Jon’s lips before the bowmen could loose. Hetook two quick steps forward. “We yield!”

the eagle waswaiting for them, perched on a dead tree a hundred feet up the slope.

That is the duty I lay on you, Jon Snow.”“I’ll do as you say,” Jon said reluctantly, “but ... you will tell them, won’tyou? The Old Bear, at least? You’ll tell him that I never broke my oath.”Qhorin Halfhand gazed at him across the fire, his eyes lost in pools ofshadow. “When I see him next. I swear it.”

“As shy as amaid on her wedding night,” the big ranger said in a soft voice, “and near asfair. Sometimes a man forgets how pretty a fire can be.”He was not a man you’d expect to speak of maids and wedding nights. Sofar as Jon knew, Qhorin had spent his whole life in the Watch. Did he everlove a maid or have a wedding? He could not ask. Instead he fanned the fire.When the blaze was all acrackle, he peeled off his stiff gloves to warm hishands, and sighed, wondering if ever a kiss had felt as good.

Sometimes she wouldsing to him. I loved a maid as fair as summer, with sunlight in her hair.

He dreamed his sister was standing over his bed, with their lordfather beside her, frowning. It had to be a dream, since Lord Tywin was athousand leagues away, fighting Robb Stark in the west.

Smooth seamless skin covered his teeth. Thediscovery terrified him. How could he live without a mouth? He began to run.

black hearts, grey lions, deadflowers, and pale ghostly stags.

“Vhagar,” Daenerys told him. “Meraxes. And Balerion. Paint the names ontheir hulls in golden letters three feet high, Arstan. I want every man who seesthem to know the dragons are returned.”

Lord Swann’s

I am called Arstan, though Belwasnamed me Whitebeard on the voyage here.”

The old man had the look of Westeros about him,

The warlocks whispered of three treasons ... once for blood and once forgold and once for love. The first traitor was surely Mirri Maz Duur, who hadmurdered Khal Drogo and their unborn son to avenge her people. Could PyatPree and Xaro Xhoan Daxos be the second and the third? She did not thinkso. What Pyat did was not for gold, and Xaro had never truly loved her.

Urrathon Night-Walker,

“It was Lord Renly! Lord Renly in his green armor,

the golden roseand golden lion and all the others, the Marbrand tree and the Rowan, Tarly’shuntsman and Redwyne’s grapes and Lady Oakheart’s leaf. All thewestermen, all the power of Highgarden and Casterly Rock! Lord Tywinhimself had their right wing on the north side of the river, with Randyll Tarlycommanding the center and Mace Tyrell the left, but the vanguard won thefight. They plunged through Stannis like a lance through a pumpkin, everyman of them howling like some demon in steel.

He yanked her closer, and for amoment she thought he meant to kiss her. He was too strong to fight. Sheclosed her eyes, wanting it to be over, but nothing happened. “Still can’t bearto look, can you?” she heard him say. He gave her arm a hard wrench, pullingher around and shoving her down onto the bed. “I’ll have that song. Florianand Jonquil, you said.” His dagger was out, poised at her throat. “Sing, littlebird. Sing for your little life.”

“Lady,” she whimpered softly, wondering if shewould meet her wolf again when she was dead.

he never knew why she got to her feet, but she did. “Don’t be afraid,” shetold them loudly. “The queen has raised the drawbridge. This is the safestplace in the city. There’s thick walls, the moat, the spikes ...”

Tyrion had no more strength than a rag doll.Ser Mandon put the point of his sword to the hollow of his throat and curledboth hands around the hilt.

Battle, what battle, if Stannis hasn’tcrossed who is he fighting?

and slit the poor creature’s throat.

“I’ve done no treasons. I only visit the godswood to pray.”“For Stannis. Or your brother, it’s all the same. Why else seek your father’sgods? You’re praying for our defeat. What would you call that, if nottreason?”

“When we were little,Jaime and I were so much alike that even our lord father could not tell usapart. Sometimes as a lark we would dress in each other’s clothes and spend awhole day each as the other. Yet even so, when Jaime was given his firstsword, there was none for me. ‘What do I get?’ I remember asking. We wereso much alike, I could never understand why they treated us so differently.Jaime learned to fight with sword and lance and mace, while I was taught tosmile and sing and please. He was heir to Casterly Rock, while I was to besold to some stranger like a horse, to be ridden whenever my new ownerliked, beaten whenever he liked, and cast aside in time for a younger filly.Jaime’s lot was to be glory and power, while mine was birth and moonblood.”

“I will remember, Your Grace,” said Sansa, though she had always heardthat love was a surer route to the people’s loyalty than fear. If I am ever aqueen, I’ll make them love me.

He is afraid, Tyrion realized, shocked. The Hound is frightened. He tried to

he had promised tosend them to Stannis. A man was not as heavy as a boulder or a cask ofburning pitch, and could be thrown a deal farther.

When he saw that, Davos Seaworth’s heart stopped beating.“No,” he said. “No, NOOOOOO!” Above the roar and crash of battle, noone heard him but Matthos. Certainly the captain of the Swordfish did not,intent as he was on finally spearing something with his ungainly fat sword.The Swordfish went to battle speed. Davos lifted his maimed hand to clutch atthe leather pouch that held his fingerbones.

Fortunately, there were few true pyromancers left. They will soon run out, SerImry had assured them.

A flash of green caught his eye, ahead and off to port, and a nest ofwrithing emerald serpents rose burning and hissing from the stern of QueenAlysanne. An instant later Davos heard the dread cry of “Wildfire!”

twin towers,

But where was the Lionstar? Where was the beautiful LadyLyanna that King Robert had named in honor of the maid he’d loved and lost?And where was King Robert’s Hammer? She was the largest war galley in theroyal fleet, four hundred oars, the only warship the boy king owned capableof overmatching Fury. By rights she should have formed the heart of anydefense.

All you know of life you learned from singers, andthere’s such a dearth of good sacking songs.”“True knights would never harm women and children.” The words ranghollow in her ears even as she said them.“True knights.” The queen seemed to find that wonderfully amusing. “Nodoubt you’re right. So why don’t you just eat your broth like a good girl andwait for Symeon Star-Eyes and Prince Aemon the Dragonknight to comerescue you, sweetling. I’m sure it won’t be very long now.”

nd her bastard brother Jon Snow, away off on the Wall.

and a boy noolder than Rickon, dressed in the fine linen tunic of a knight’s son.

“They say my brother Robb always goes where the fighting is thickest,”she said recklessly. “Though he’s older than Your Grace, to be sure. A mangrown.”

I ought to have sent you off with Tommen, now that Ithink on it. Still, you should be safe enough in Maegor’s, so long as—”

The miller’s boys had been of an age with Bran and Rickon,alike in size and coloring, and once Reek had flayed the skin from their facesand dipped their heads in tar, it was easy to see familiar features in thosemisshapen lumps of rotting flesh. People were such fools. If we’d said theywere rams’ heads, they would have seen horns.

He sent for Kyra, kicked shut the door, climbed on top of her, and fuckedthe wench with a fury he’d never known was in him. By the time he finished,she was sobbing, her neck and breasts covered with bruises and bite marks.Theon shoved her from the bed and threw her a blanket. “Get out.”

But there were others with faces he had never known in life, faces he hadseen only in stone. The slim, sad girl who wore a crown of pale blue roses anda white gown spattered with gore could only be Lyanna. Her brother Brandonstood beside her, and their father Lord Rickard just behind. Along the wallsfigures half-seen moved through the shadows, pale shades with long grimfaces. The sight of them sent fear shivering through Theon sharp as a knife.And then the tall doors opened with a crash, and a freezing gale blew downthe hall, and Robb came walking out of the night. Grey Wind stalked beside,eyes burning, and man and wolf alike bled from half a hundred savagewounds.

The music didnot seem so jolly then

“You ought to know, that’s the ugliest crown I’ve ever laid eyes on. Didyou make it yourself?”

Put Winterfell to the torch and fall back while you still can.”“No.” Theon adjusted his crown. “I took this castle and I mean to hold it.”

As he knelt to the block, the kennelmaster said,“M’lord Eddard always did his own killings.” Theon had to take the axehimself or look a weakling. His hands were sweating, so the shaft twisted inhis grip as he swung and the first blow landed between Farlen’s shoulders. Ittook three more cuts to hack through all that bone and muscle and sever thehead from the body, and afterward he was sick, remembering all the timesthey’d sat over a cup of mead talking of hounds and hunting. I had no choice,he wanted to scream at the corpse. The ironborn can’t keep secrets, they hadto die, and someone had to take the blame for it. He only wished he had killedhim cleaner. Ned Stark had never needed more than a single blow to take aman’s head.

Last of all, he donned his crown, a band of cold iron slim as a finger, setwith heavy chunks of black diamond and nuggets of gold. It was misshapenand ugly, but there was no help for that. Mikken lay buried in the lichyard,

The sky was a gloom of cloud, the woods dead and frozen. Roots grabbed atTheon’s feet as he ran, and bare branches lashed his face, leaving thin stripesof blood across his cheeks. He crashed through heedless, breathless, iciclesflying to pieces before him. Mercy, he sobbed. From behind came ashuddering howl that curdled his blood. Mercy, mercy. When he glanced backover his shoulder he saw them coming, great wolves the size of horses withthe heads of small children. Oh, mercy, mercy. Blood dripped from theirmouths black as pitch, burning holes in the snow where it fell. Every stridebrought them closer. Theon tried to run faster, but his legs would not obey.The trees all had faces, and they were laughing at him, laughing, and the howlcame again. He could smell the hot breath of the beasts behind him, a stink ofbrimstone and corruption. They’re dead, dead, I saw them killed, he tried toshout, I saw their heads dipped in tar,

Brienne pushed open the door and stepped inside the cell. “You called, mylady?”“Give me your sword.” Catelyn held out her hand.

“Snow, that was the one. Such a whitename ... like the pretty cloaks they give us in the Kingsguard when we swearour pretty oaths.”