If you have the silver for a song, I'll gladly show you. And then Mirri Maz Duur was there, the maegi, tipping a cup against her lips. All it would take was a shove, she told herself. You don't want to know what his mother calls him.
Robb spurred his horse forward. Robert reached for the flagon and refilled his cup. I am not pleased, Ned, Robert grumbled. None dare say Jon was murdered, not openly, but suspicion casts a long shadow.
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