None of that. Two guards in black cloaks and iron halfhelms stood by the doors of the armory, leaning on their spears. Stannis endlessly grinding his teeth. She went as white as milk, too frightened even to cry.
He was ever the Imp's creature. The rain was falling more heavily by then. She found herself remembering the look on Lysa Anyn's face as she'd tumbled through the Moon Door. Don't do that! I'm not here for that! Sam! Dareon's familiar voice rang out.
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