Arya glanced up longingly at her bedchamber, then moved away from the Tower of the Hand, keeping close to the wall as she slid from shadow to shadow. He could believe it of Cersei Lannister readily enough . The pushcart man looked her up and down. Ser Gregor swung his sword, a savage twohanded blow that took the boy in the chest and knocked him from the saddle.
You're no ranger, Jon, only a green boy with the smell of summer still on you. Jon sputtered and struggled. I am no knight. Had I been born a peasant, they might have left me out to die, or sold me to some slaver's grotesquerie.
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