These are for you. A Burned Man rode past, slumped against his horse. MARTINsquare was a maze of stalls and crookback aisles, shaded by awnings of woven grass. The Kings of Winter atched him pass with eyes of ice, and the direwolves at their feet turned their great stone heads and snarled.
It was your blade I needed, Tyrion said, not your love. Nothing can change that. This is the last place I would have expected to be seen, Tyrion admitted. He taught me this speech.
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