10/05/2026 04:34

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The Knight of the Gate lifted his visor. These are not dogs to beg for treats and slink off at a kick. He crossed the room, pulled back the heavy tapestries, and threw open the high narrow windows one by one, letting the night air into the chamber. Damn you, he said.

or if they do, they're not men no more, but only wights, with blue eyes and cold black hands. They're passing me out of training. Littlefinger sits on the small council now. Her hand smoothed her robe down over the swell of her stomach.