That night, Three-Finger Hobb cooked the boys a special meal to mark the occasion. Nymeria, here. There will be no place for him at court. Until the tourney on Prince Joffrey's name day, he said, crossing the room to wrench the dagger from the wood.
The sweet cakes had been soaked with honey, rich and heavy on the tongue, but how Catelyn had dreaded those smiles. I want you safe, Robb, ruling at Winterfell from your father's seat. Please, he said. Mormont picked up a crab claw and cracked it in his fist.
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