A Game of Thrones 4-Book Bundle

of an age with Robert.”
    Lyn Corbray laughed. “Two pups from a pair of lapdogs.”
    â€œRobert should have an older boy about him too. A promising young squire, say. Someone he could admire and try to emulate.” Petyr turned to Lady Waynwood. “You have such a boy at Ironoaks, my lady. Perhaps you might agree to send me Harrold Hardyng.”
    Anya Waynwood seemed amused. “Lord Petyr, you are as bold a thief as I’d ever care to meet.”
    â€œI do not wish to steal the boy,” said Petyr, “but he and Lord Robert should be friends.”
    Bronze Yohn Royce leaned forward. “It is meet and proper that Lord Robert should befriend young Harry, and he shall . . . at Runestone, under my care, as my ward and squire.”
    â€œGive us the boy,” said Lord Belmore, “and you may depart the Vale unmolested for your proper seat at Harrenhal.”
    Petyr gave him a look of mild reproach. “Are you suggesting that elsewise I might come to harm, my lord? I cannot think why. My late wife seemed to think
this
was my proper seat.”
    â€œLord Baelish,” Lady Waynwood said, “Lysa Tully was Jon Arryn’s widow and the mother of his child, and ruled here as his regent. You . . . let us be frank, you are no Arryn, and Lord Robert is no blood of yours. By what right do you presume to rule us?”
    â€œLysa named me Lord Protector, I do seem to recall.”
    Young Lord Hunter said, “Lysa Tully was never truly of the Vale, nor had she the right to dispose of us.”
    â€œAnd Lord Robert?” Petyr asked. “Will your lordship also claim that Lady Lysa had no right to dispose of her own son?”
    Nestor Royce had been silent all this while, but now he spoke up loudly. “I once hoped to wed Lady Lysa myself. As did Lord Hunter’s father and Lady Anya’s son. Corbray scarce left her side for half a year. Had she chosen any one of us, no man here would dispute his right to be the Lord Protector. It happens that she chose Lord Littlefinger, and entrusted her son to his care.”
    â€œHe was Jon Arryn’s son as well, cousin,” Bronze Yohn said, frowning at the Keeper. “He belongs to the Vale.”
    Petyr feigned puzzlement. “The Eyrie is as much a part of the Vale as Runestone. Unless someone has moved it?”
    â€œJape all you like, Littlefinger,” Lord Belmore blustered. “The boy shall come with us.”
    â€œI am loath to disappoint you, Lord Belmore, but my stepson will be remaining here with me. He is not a robust child, as all of you know well. The journey would tax him sorely. As his stepfather and Lord Protector, I cannot permit it.”
    Symond Templeton cleared his throat, and said, “Each of us has a thousand men at the foot of this mountain, Littlefinger.”
    â€œWhat a splendid place for them.”
    â€œIf need be, we can summon many more.”
    â€œAre you threatening me with war, ser?” Petyr did not sound the least afraid.
    Bronze Yohn said, “We
shall
have Lord Robert.”
    For a moment it seemed as though they had come to an impasse, until Lyn Corbray turned from the fire. “All this talk makes me ill. Littlefinger will talk you out of your smallclothes if you listen long enough. The only way to settle his sort is with steel.” He drew his longsword.
    Petyr spread his hands. “I wear no sword, ser.”
    â€œEasily remedied.” Candlelight rippled along the smoke-grey steel of Corbray’s blade, so dark that it put Sansa in mind of Ice, her father’s greatsword. “Your apple-eater holds a blade. Tell him to give it to you, or draw that dagger.”
    She saw Lothor Brune reach for his own sword, but before the blades could meet Bronze Yohn rose in wrath. “
Put up your steel, ser!
Are you a Corbray or a
Frey
? We are guests here.”
    Lady Waynwood pursed her lips, and said, “This is unseemly.”
    â€œSheathe your sword, Corbray,” Young Lord Hunter echoed. “You shame us all with this.”
    â€œCome, Lyn,” chided Redfort in a softer tone. “This will serve for nought. Put Lady Forlorn to bed.”
    â€œMy lady has a thirst,” Ser Lyn insisted. “Whenever she comes out to dance, she likes a drop of red.”
    â€œYour lady must go thirsty.” Bronze Yohn put himself squarely in Corbray’s path.
    â€œThe Lords Declarant.” Lyn Corbray snorted. “You should