My lady, I mean. Those had been the worst nights, lying helpless underneath him as he took his pleasure, stinking of wine and grunting like a boar. That affair at Duskendale six years ago? No. A war of brother against brother? If the Drowned God wills it.
Victarion kept Grief. Arianne eyed every door they passed, wondering if one of the Sand Snakes might be locked within. I shan't deny it. I'm bleeding.
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