Jory draped Ned's cloak across his shoulders and clasped it at the throat with the Hand's badge of office. Tomard was a solid man; affable, loyal, tireless, capable in a limited way, but he was near fifty, and even in his youth he had never been energetic. Worse, you risk losing me. Kingslayer, Ned said.
Now bring me to Khal Drogo. Jon had noticed that too. Jon's mare snorted. A bitter cup to drink from.
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