A Game of Thrones 4-Book Bundle

age, had served him as a page, then a squire, had even taken knighthood at his hands in preference to the Red Viper’s.
If I were a father, I would want my son to follow me as well,
he thought, but he could hear the hurt in her voice, and he knew that if he said what he was thinking, he would lose her. “Perhaps you misunderstood,” he said. “You were only a child. Perhaps the prince was only saying that to encourage your brother to be more diligent.”
    â€œYou think so? Then tell me, where is Quentyn now?”
    â€œThe prince is with Lord Yronwood’s host in the Boneway,” Ser Arys said cautiously. That was what Sunspear’s ancient castellan had told him, when first he came to Dorne. The maester with the silky beard said the same.
    Arianne demurred. “So my father wishes us to believe, but I have friends who tell me otherwise. My brother has crossed the narrow sea in secret, posing as a common merchant. Why?”
    â€œHow would I know? There could be a hundred reasons.”
    â€œOr one. Are you aware that the Golden Company has broken its contract with Myr?”
    â€œSellswords break their contracts all the time.”
    â€œNot the Golden Company.
Our word is good as gold
has been their boast since the days of Bittersteel. Myr is on the point of war with Lys and Tyrosh. Why break a contract that offered them the prospect of good wages and good plunder?”
    â€œPerhaps Lys offered them better wages. Or Tyrosh.”
    â€œNo,” she said. “I would believe it of any of the other free companies, yes. Most of them would change sides for half a groat. The Golden Company is different. A brotherhood of exiles and the sons of exiles, united by the dream of Bittersteel. It’s home they want, as much as gold. Lord Yronwood knows that as well as I do. His forebears rode with Bittersteel during three of the Blackfyre Rebellions.” She took Ser Arys by the hand, and wove her fingers through his own. “Have you ever seen the arms of House Toland of Ghost Hill?”
    He had to think a moment. “A dragon eating its own tail?”
    â€œThe dragon is time. It has no beginning and no ending, so all things come round again. Anders Yronwood is Criston Cole reborn. He whispers in my brother’s ear that
he
should rule after my father, that it is not right for men to kneel to women . . . that Arianne especially is unfit to rule, being the willful wanton that she is.” She tossed her hair defiantly. “So your two princesses share a common cause, ser . . . and they share as well a knight who claims to love them both, but will not fight for them.”
    â€œI will.” Ser Arys sank to one knee. “Myrcella
is
the elder, and better suited to the crown. Who will defend her rights if not her Kingsguard? My sword, my life, my honor, all belong to her . . . and to you, my heart’s delight. I swear, no man will steal your birthright whilst I still have the strength to lift a sword. I am yours. What would you have of me?”
    â€œAll.” She knelt to kiss his lips. “
All,
my love, my true love, my sweet love, and forever. But first . . .”
    â€œAsk, and it is yours.”
    â€œ. . . Myrcella.”

BRIENNE
    T he stone wall was old and crumbling, but the sight of it across the field made the hairs on Brienne’s neck stand up.
    That was where the archers hid and slew poor Cleos Frey,
she thought . . . but half a mile farther on she passed another wall that looked much like the first and found herself uncertain. The rutted road turned and twisted, and the bare brown trees looked different from the green ones she remembered. Had she ridden past the place where Ser Jaime had snatched his cousin’s sword from its scabbard? Where were the woods they’d fought in? The stream where they’d splashed and slashed at one another until they drew the Brave Companions down upon them?
    â€œMy lady? Ser?” Podrick never seemed certain what to call her. “What are you looking for?”
    Ghosts.
“A wall I rode by once. It does not matter.”
It was when Ser Jaime still had both his hands. How I loathed him, with all his taunts and smiles.
“Stay quiet, Podrick. There may still be outlaws in these woods.”
    The boy looked at the bare brown trees, the wet leaves, the muddy road ahead. “I have a longsword. I can fight.”
    Not well enough.
Brienne did not doubt the boy’s courage, only