A Game of Thrones 4-Book Bundle

you. If I can do it, I know you can, Sweetrobin.”
    â€œI
could
do it,” Lord Robert said, “but I don’t choose to.” He swiped at his runny nose with the back of his hand. “Tell Mya I am going to stay abed. Perhaps I will come down on the morrow, if I feel better. Today is too cold out, and my head hurts. You can have some sweetmilk too, and I’ll tell Gretchel to bring us some honeycombs to eat. We’ll sleep and kiss and play games, and you can read me about the Winged Knight.”
    â€œI will. Three tales, as I promised . . . when we reach the Gates of the Moon.” Alayne was running short of patience.
We have to go,
she reminded herself,
or we’ll still be above the snow line when the sun goes down.
“Lord Nestor has prepared a feast to welcome you, mushroom soup and venison and cakes. You don’t want to disappoint him, do you?”
    â€œWill they be lemon cakes?” Lord Robert loved lemon cakes, perhaps because Alayne did.
    â€œLemony lemony lemon cakes,” she assured him, “and you can have as many as you like.”
    â€œA hundred?” he wanted to know. “Could I have a
hundred?
”
    â€œIf it please you.” She sat on the bed and smoothed his long, fine hair.
He does have pretty hair.
Lady Lysa had brushed it herself every night, and cut it when it wanted cutting. After she had fallen Robert had suffered terrible shaking fits whenever anyone came near him with a blade, so Petyr had commanded that his hair be allowed to grow. Alayne wound a lock around her finger, and said, “Now, will you get out of bed and let us dress you?”
    â€œI want a hundred lemon cakes and
five
tales!”
    I’d like to give you a hundred spankings and five slaps. You would not dare behave like this if Petyr were here.
The little lord had a good healthy fear of his stepfather. Alayne forced a smile. “As my lord desires. But nothing till you’re washed and dressed and on your way. Come, before the morning’s gone.” She took him firmly by the hand, and drew him out of bed.
    Before she could summon the servants, however, Sweetrobin threw his skinny arms around her and kissed her. It was a little boy’s kiss, and clumsy. Everything Robert Arryn did was clumsy.
If I close my eyes I can pretend he is the Knight of Flowers.
Ser Loras had given Sansa Stark a red rose once, but he had never kissed her . . . and no Tyrell would ever kiss Alayne Stone. Pretty as she was, she had been born on the wrong side of the blanket.
    As the boy’s lips touched her own she found herself thinking of another kiss. She could still remember how it felt, when his cruel mouth pressed down on her own. He had come to Sansa in the darkness as green fire filled the sky.
He took a song and a kiss, and left me nothing but a bloody cloak.
    It made no matter. That day was done, and so was Sansa.
    Alayne pushed her little lord away. “That’s enough. You can kiss me again when we reach the Gates, if you keep your word.”
    Maddy and Gretchel were waiting outside with Maester Colemon. The maester had washed the night soil from his hair and changed his robe. Robert’s squires had turned up as well. Terrance and Gyles could always sniff out trouble.
    â€œLord Robert is feeling stronger,” Alayne told the serving women. “Fetch hot water for his bath, but see you don’t scald him. And do not pull on his hair when you brush out the tangles, he hates that.” One of the squires sniggered, until she said, “Terrance, lay out his lordship’s riding clothes and his warmest cloak. Gyles, you may clean up that broken chamber pot.”
    Gyles Grafton made a face. “I’m no scrubwoman.”
    â€œDo as Lady Alayne commands, or Lothor Brune will hear of it,” said Maester Colemon. He followed her along the hallway and down the twisting stairs. “I am grateful for your intercession, my lady. You have a way with him.” He hesitated. “Did you observe any shaking while you were with him?”
    â€œHis fingers trembled a little bit when I held his hand, that’s all. He says you put something vile in his milk.”
    â€œVile?” Colemon blinked at her, and the apple in his throat moved up and down. “I merely . . . is he bleeding from the nose?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œGood. That is good.” His chain clinked softly as he bobbed his head, atop a ridiculously long and skinny