Robert groaned with good-humored impatience. He smiled. And what would they be guarding, my little lord? Is that a silver pin I see there on your cloak? Pretty, said a woman's voice. Tastes well bred.
See our lord of Lannister to a tower cell, and bring him meat and mead. It is only a wood, Jon told himself, and they're only dead men. A few more words and the chance would be lost. A thousand deaths will still be less than he deserves.
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