Suddenly Doreah was tugging at her elbow. The silk is ruined. You do it. The Hand always gave the lads a copper on their name days, he says.
Ser Brynden snorted. It was a ponderous tome by Grand Maester Malleon on the lineages of the great houses. Yet she liked them well enough; they had gotten her to Robb, as their father had vowed, and nothing else mattered. Or perhaps the live one, now that I come to think on it.
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