A Game of Thrones 4-Book Bundle

the real king of this castle right there,” one of the gold cloaks had told her. “Older than sin and twice as mean. One time, the king was feasting the queen’s father, and that black bastard hopped up on the table and snatched a roast quail right out of Lord Tywin’s fingers. Robert laughed so hard he like to burst. You stay away from that one, child.”
    He had run her halfway across the castle; twice around the Tower of the Hand, across the inner bailey, through the stables, down the serpentine steps, past the small kitchen and the pig yard and the barracks of the gold cloaks, along the base of the river wall and up more steps and back and forth over Traitor’s Walk, and then down again and through a gate and around a well and in and out of strange buildings until Arya didn’t know where she was.
    Now at last she had him. High walls pressed close on either side, and ahead was a blank windowless mass of stone.
Quiet as a shadow
, she repeated, sliding forward,
light as a feather
.
    When she was three steps away from him, the tomcat bolted. Left, then right, he went; and right, then left, went Arya, cutting off his escape. He hissed again and tried to dart between her legs.
Quick as a snake
, she thought. Her hands closed around him. She hugged him to her chest, whirling and laughing aloud as his claws raked at the front of her leather jerkin. Ever so fast, she kissed him right between the eyes, and jerked her head back an instant before his claws would have found her face. The tomcat yowled and spit.
    â€œWhat’s he doing to that cat?”
    Startled, Arya dropped the cat and whirled toward the voice. The tom bounded off in the blink of an eye. At the end of the alley stood a girl with a mass of golden curls, dressed as pretty as a doll in blue satin. Beside her was a plump little blond boy with a prancing stag sewn in pearls across the front of his doublet and a miniature sword at his belt.
Princess Myrcella and Prince Tommen
, Arya thought. A septa as large as a draft horse hovered over them, and behind her two big men in crimson cloaks, Lannister house guards.
    â€œWhat were you doing to that cat, boy?” Myrcella asked again, sternly. To her brother she said, “He’s a ragged boy, isn’t he? Look at him.” She giggled.
    â€œA ragged dirty smelly boy,” Tommen agreed.
    They don’t know me
, Arya realized.
They don’t even know I’m a girl
. Small wonder; she was barefoot and dirty, her hair tangled from the long run through the castle, clad in a jerkin ripped by cat claws and brown roughspun pants hacked off above her scabby knees. You don’t wear skirts and silks when you’re catching cats. Quickly she lowered her head and dropped to one knee. Maybe they
wouldn’t
recognize her. If they did, she would never hear the end of it. Septa Mordane would be mortified, and Sansa would never speak to her again from the shame.
    The old fat septa moved forward. “Boy, how did you come here? You have no business in this part of the castle.”
    â€œYou can’t keep this sort out,” one of the red cloaks said. “Like trying to keep out rats.”
    â€œWho do you belong to, boy?” the septa demanded. “Answer me. What’s wrong with you, are you mute?”
    Arya’s voice caught in her throat. If she answered, Tommen and Myrcella would know her for certain.
    â€œGodwyn, bring him here,” the septa said. The taller of the guardsmen started down the alley.
    Panic gripped her throat like a giant’s hand. Arya could not have spoken if her life had hung on it.
Calm as still water
, she mouthed silently.
    As Godwyn reached for her, Arya moved.
Quick as a snake
. She leaned to her left, letting his fingers brush her arm, spinning around him.
Smooth as summer silk
. By the time he got himself turned, she was sprinting down the alley.
Swift as a deer
. The septa was screeching at her. Arya slid between legs as thick and white as marble columns, bounded to her feet, bowled into Prince Tommen and hopped over him when he sat down hard and said “
Oof,”
spun away from the second guard, and then she was past them all, running full out.
    She heard shouts, then pounding footsteps, closing behind her. She dropped and rolled. The red cloak went careening past her, stumbling. Arya sprang back to her feet. She saw a window above her, high and narrow, scarcely more than an arrow slit. Arya leapt, caught the