Rode hard, I did, near killed my horse the way I drove her, but I left the others well behind. Cersei subsided, cold with anger, and Robert turned back to Ned. He slid Ice back into its sheath. I swear it, milord, by the old gods and new.
My lady? Standing, the old knight took off his high white helm, though he did not seem to understand why. They have my son, he said once more, in a voice that cut through the babble like a sword through suet. Small wonder; she was barefoot and dirty, her hair tangled from the long run through the castle, clad in a jerkin ripped by cat claws and brown roughspun pants hacked off above her scabby knees. With others, she could almost feel their eyes crawling under her leathers; she didn't know what they were thinking, and that scared her even more.
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