By now Stark was no doubt regretting his chivalrous impulse. Grand Maester Pycelle stirred uneasily beside him, while Littlefinger toyed with a pen. Moonlight silvered the cruel edges of the spikes that lined its bed. A steel-shod hoof caught a Lannister guardsman in the face with a sickening crunch.
There are different kinds of wings, the crow said. I'll find a bed there, and both of us will sleep easier. Your father and the king, he rumbled. She touched it, and her fingertips came away wet and red.
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