A Game of Thrones 4-Book Bundle
with me? A cup in honor of your god,
your Lord of Light? A cup to toast his power?â
The red woman studied him. âIf you wish.â
He could feel them all watching him. Davos clutched at him as he left the
bench, catching his sleeve with the fingers that Lord Stannis had shortened.
âWhat are you doing?â he whispered.
âA thing that must be done,â Maester Cressen answered, âfor the sake of the
realm, and the soul of my lord.â He shook off Davosâs hand, spilling a drop of
wine on the rushes.
She met him beneath the high table with every manâs eyes upon them. But Cressen
saw only her. Red silk, red eyes, the
ruby red at her throat, red lips curled in a faint smile as she put her hand
atop his own, around the cup. Her skin felt hot, feverish. âIt is not too late
to spill the wine, Maester.â
âNo,â he whispered hoarsely. âNo.â
âAs you will.â Melisandre of Asshai took the cup from his hands and drank
long and deep. There was only half a swallow of wine remaining when she offered
it back to him. âAnd now you.â
His hands were shaking, but he made himself be strong. A maester of the Citadel
must not be afraid. The wine was sour on his tongue. He let the empty cup drop
from his fingers to shatter on the floor. âHe
does
have power here,
my lord,â the woman said. âAnd fire cleanses.â At her throat, the ruby
shimmered redly.
Cressen tried to reply, but his words caught in his throat. His cough became a
terrible thin whistle as he strained to suck in air. Iron fingers tightened
round his neck. As he sank to his knees, still he shook his head, denying her,
denying her power, denying her magic, denying her god. And the cowbells peeled
in his antlers, singing
fool, fool, fool
while the red woman looked
down on him in pity, the candle flames dancing in her red red eyes.
ARYA
A t Winterfell they had called her âArya Horsefaceâ and sheâd thought
nothing could be worse, but that was before the orphan boy Lommy Greenhands had
named her âLumpyhead.â
Her head
felt
lumpy when she touched it. When Yoren had dragged her
into that alley sheâd thought he meant to kill her, but the sour old man had
only held her tight, sawing through her mats and tangles with his dagger. She
remembered how the breeze sent the fistfuls of dirty brown hair skittering
across the paving stones, toward the sept where her father had died. âIâm
taking men and boys from the city,â Yoren growled as the sharp steel scraped
at her head. âNow you hold still,
boy.
â By the time he had
finished, her scalp was nothing but tufts and stubble.
Afterward he told her that from there to Winterfell sheâd be Arry the
orphan boy. âGate shouldnât be hard, but the roadâs another matter. You got a
long way to go in bad company. I got thirty this time, men and boys all bound
for the Wall, and donât be thinking theyâre like that bastard brother oâ
yours.â He shook her. âLord Eddard gave me pick oâ the dungeons, and I didnât
find no little lordlings down there. This lot, half oâ them would turn you over
to the queen quick as spit for a pardon and maybe a few silvers. The other
halfâd do the same, only theyâd rape you first. So you keep to yourself and
make your water in the woods,
alone. Thatâll be the hardest part, the pissing, so donât drink no moreân you
need.â
Leaving Kingâs Landing was easy, just like heâd said. The Lannister guardsmen
on the gate were stopping everyone, but Yoren called one by name and their
wagons were waved through. No one spared Arya a glance. They were looking for a
highborn girl, daughter of the Kingâs Hand, not for a skinny boy with his hair
chopped off. Arya never looked back. She wished the Rush would rise and wash
the whole city away, Flea Bottom and the Red Keep and the Great Sept and
everything,
and every
one
too, especially Prince Joffrey and
his mother. But she knew it wouldnât, and anyhow Sansa was still in the city
and would wash away too. When she remembered that, Arya decided to wish for
Winterfell instead.
Yoren was wrong about the pissing, though. That wasnât the hardest part at all;
Lommy Greenhands and Hot Pie were the hardest part. Orphan boys. Yoren had
plucked some from the streets with promises of food
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