Tyrion Lannister was starved, but he refused to let this brute see him cringe. My roof is yours, my lady, Lord Nestor returned gruffly, but your sister the Lady Lysa has sent down word from the Eyrie. So far he had not lurched off to the woods to retch, but he had not so much as glanced at the dead men either. The night was black and moonless, but overhead a million stars burned bright.
I am told the Kingslayer went through him like an axe through ripe cheese. A cold wind whispered through the trees. Lady Lysa rose from her weirwood throne. The master of horse closed his eyes again and said no more.
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