Pain shot through his burned fingers. How many men had the snot-nosed little wretch sent through that door already? I thank you, my good lady, but I see no need to trouble Lord Robert, Tyrion said politely. Sansa was certain her prince had no part in murdering Jory and those other poor men; that had been his wicked uncle, the Kingslayer. She dressed him in horsehair leggings and high boots, buckling a belt heavy with gold and silver medallions about his waist.
Which toe? he teased. Yet the more she thought on Jorah's words, the more they rang of truth. I seem to recall that I was unarmed, unarmored, and surrounded by Lannister swords. When he entered her, she welcomed him with whispered endearments and small, shuddering gasps of pleasure.
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