Go away! the boy screamed back at him. Arya has the hands of a blacksmith. Would that I knew how. No one moving.
He stayed in the tree, scarce daring to breathe, while the moon crept slowly across the black sky. A great knife of pain ripped down her back, and she felt her skin tear open and smelled the stench of burning blood and saw the shadow of wings. Syrio ducked under his blade and thrust upward. His lord father had come first, escorting the queen.
Join the newsletter to receive news, updates, new products and freebies in your inbox.