A Game of Thrones 4-Book Bundle

hundred feet of sky. For a moment she found herself wondering how long it had taken her aunt to fall that distance, and what her last thought had been as the mountain rushed up to meet her.
No, I mustn’t think of that. I mustn’t!
    â€œAWAY!” came Ser Lothor’s shout. Someone shoved the bucket hard. It swayed and tipped, scraped against the floor, then swung free. She heard the
crack
of Mord’s whip and the rattle of the chain. They began to descend, by jerks and starts at first, then more smoothly. Robert’s face was pale and his eyes puffy, but his hands were still. The Eyrie shrank above them. The sky cells on the lower levels made the castle look something like a honeycomb from below.
A honeycomb made of ice,
Alayne thought,
a castle made of snow.
She could hear the wind whistling round the bucket.
    A hundred feet down, a sudden gust caught hold of them. The bucket swayed sideways, spinning in the air, then bumped hard against the rock face behind them. Shards of ice and snow rained down on them, and the oak creaked and strained. Robert gave a gasp and clung to her, burying his face between her breasts.
    â€œMy lord is brave,” Alayne said, when she felt him shaking. “I’m so frightened I can hardly talk, but not you.”
    She felt him nod. “The Winged Knight was brave, and so am I,” he boasted to her bodice. “I’m an
Arryn
.”
    â€œWill my Sweetrobin hold me tight?” she asked, though he was already holding her so tightly that she could scarcely breathe.
    â€œIf you like,” he whispered. And clinging hard to one another, they continued on straight down to Sky.
    Calling this a castle is like calling a puddle on a privy floor a lake,
Alayne thought, when the bucket was opened so they might emerge within the waycastle. Sky was no more than a crescent-shaped wall of old unmortared stone, enclosing a stony ledge and the yawning mouth of a cavern. Inside were storehouses and stables, a long natural hall, and the chiseled handholds that led up to the Eyrie. Outside, the ground was strewn by broken stones and boulders. Earthen ramps gave access to the wall. Six hundred feet above, the Eyrie was so small she could hide it with her hand, but far below the Vale stretched green and golden.
    Twenty mules awaited them within the waycastle, along with two mule-walkers and the Lady Myranda Royce. Lord Nestor’s daughter proved to be a short, fleshy woman, of an age with Mya Stone, but where Mya was slim and sinewy, Myranda was soft-bodied and sweet-smelling, broad of hip, thick of waist, and extremely buxom. Her thick chestnut curls framed round red cheeks, a small mouth, and a pair of lively brown eyes. When Robert climbed gingerly from the bucket, she knelt in a patch of snow to kiss his hand and cheeks. “My lord,” she said, “you’ve grown so
big
!”
    â€œHave I?” said Robert, pleased.
    â€œYou will be taller than me soon,” the lady lied. She got to her feet and brushed the snow from her skirts. “And you must be the Lord Protector’s daughter,” she added, as the bucket went rattling back up to the Eyrie. “I had heard that you were beautiful. I see that it is true.”
    Alayne curtsied. “My lady is kind to say so.”
    â€œKind?” The older girl gave a laugh. “How boring that would be. I aspire to be wicked. You must tell me all your secrets on the ride down. May I call you Alayne?”
    â€œIf you wish, my lady.”
But you’ll get no secrets from me.
    â€œI am ‘my lady’ at the Gates, but up here on the mountain you may call me Randa. How many years have you, Alayne?”
    â€œFour-and-ten, my lady.” She had decided that Alayne Stone should be older than Sansa Stark.
    â€œ
Randa.
It seems a hundred years since I was four-and-ten. How innocent I was. Are you still innocent, Alayne?”
    She blushed. “You should not . . . yes, of course.”
    â€œSaving yourself for Lord Robert?” Lady Myranda teased. “Or is there some ardent squire dreaming of your favors?”
    â€œNo,” said Alayne, even as Robert said, “She’s
my
friend. Terrance and Gyles can’t have her.”
    A second bucket had arrived by then, thumping down softly on a mound of frozen snow. Maester Colemon emerged with the squires Terrance and Gyles. The next winch delivered Maddy and Gretchel, who rode with Mya Stone. The bastard girl