A Game of Thrones 4-Book Bundle

she blurted out, surprised.
    â€œSnow? Yes, it would be Snow, I suppose.”
    She had not thought of Jon in ages. He was only her half brother, but still . . . with Robb and Bran and Rickon dead, Jon Snow was the only brother that remained to her.
I am a bastard too now, just like him. Oh, it would be so sweet, to see him once again.
But of course that could never be. Alayne Stone had no brothers, baseborn or otherwise.
    â€œOur cousin Bronze Yohn had himself a mêlée at Runestone,” Myranda Royce went on, oblivious, “a small one, just for squires. It was meant for Harry the Heir to win the honors, and so he did.”
    â€œHarry the Heir?”
    â€œLady Waynwood’s ward. Harrold Hardyng. I suppose we must call him
Ser
Harry now. Bronze Yohn knighted him.”
    â€œOh.” Alayne was confused. Why should Lady Waynwood’s ward be her heir? She had sons of her own blood. One was the Knight of the Bloody Gate, Ser Donnel. She did not want to look stupid, though, so all she said was, “I pray he proves a worthy knight.”
    Lady Myranda snorted. “I pray he gets the pox. He has a bastard daughter by some common girl, you know. My lord father had hoped to marry me to Harry, but Lady Waynwood would not hear of it. I do not know whether it was me she found unsuitable, or just my dowry.” She gave a sigh. “I do need another husband. I had one once, but I killed him.”
    â€œYou did?” Alayne said, shocked.
    â€œOh, yes. He died on top of me.
In
me, if truth be told. You do know what goes on in a marriage bed, I hope?”
    She thought of Tyrion, and of the Hound and how he’d kissed her, and gave a nod. “That must have been dreadful, my lady. Him dying.
There,
I mean, whilst . . . whilst he was . . .”
    â€œ. . . fucking me?” She shrugged. “It was disconcerting, certainly. Not to mention discourteous. He did not even have the common decency to plant a child in me. Old men have weak seed. So here I am, a widow, but scarce used. Harry could have done much worse. I daresay that he will. Lady Waynwood will most like marry him to one of her granddaughters, or one of Bronze Yohn’s.”
    â€œAs you say, my lady.” Alayne remembered Petyr’s warning.
    â€œ
Randa.
Come now, you can say it. Ran. Da.”
    â€œRanda.”
    â€œMuch better. I fear I must apologize to you. You will think me a dreadful slut, I know, but I bedded that pretty boy Marillion. I did not know he was a monster. He sang beautifully, and could do the sweetest things with his fingers. I would never have taken him to bed if I had known he was going to push Lady Lysa through the Moon Door. I do not bed monsters, as a rule.” She studied Alayne’s face and chest. “You are prettier than me, but my breasts are larger. The maesters say large breasts produce no more milk than small ones, but I do not believe it. Have you ever known a wet nurse with small teats? Yours are ample for a girl your age, but as they are bastard breasts, I shan’t concern myself with them.” Myranda edged her mule closer. “You know our Mya’s not a maid, I trust?”
    She did. Fat Maddy had whispered it to her, one time when Mya brought up their supplies. “Maddy told me.”
    â€œOf course she did. She has a mouth as big as her thighs, and her thighs are
enormous.
Mychel Redfort was the one. He used to be Lyn Corbray’s squire. A
real
squire, not like that loutish lad Ser Lyn’s got squiring for him now. He only took that one on for coin, they say. Mychel was the best young swordsman in the Vale, and gallant . . . or so poor Mya thought, till he wed one of Bronze Yohn’s daughters. Lord Horton gave him no choice in the matter, I am sure, but it was still a cruel thing to do to Mya.”
    â€œSer Lothor is fond of her.” Alayne glanced down at the mule girl, twenty steps below. “More than fond.”
    â€œLothor
Brune
?” Myranda raised an eyebrow. “Does she know?” She did not wait for an answer. “He has no hope, poor man. My father’s tried to make a match for Mya, but she’ll have none of them. She
is
half mule, that one.”
    Despite herself, Alayne found herself warming to the older girl. She had not had a friend to gossip with since poor Jeyne Poole. “Do you think Ser Lothor likes her as she is, in mail and leather?” she asked the older girl, who seemed so worldly-wise.