The knight helped Cersei to her feet and led her out without a word. The place had grown over the centuries like some monstrous stone tree, Maester Luwin told him once, and its branches were gnarled and thick and twisted, its roots sunk deep into the earth. His hair, the same silver-blond as hers, had been pulled back tightly behind his head and fastened with a dragonbone brooch. It wouldn't matter at all.
Winterfell had been the only home he had ever known. That letter. He wondered which of them had sent the footpad to silence the Stark boy, and whether they had truly conspired at the death of Lord Arryn. Bring him back to me, she whispered to Mirri Maz Duur before she fled.
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