Royce checked a second blow, and a third, then fell back a step. If I had the sense the gods gave a fish, I'd help the Lannisters boil you all. He held her there, his face inches from her. By the hearth, Heward and a buxom wench were playing at forfeits.
I can just see him fending off Ser Vardis with his woodharp. It was only half a lie; Lord Tywin Lannister cared not a fig for his deformed son, but he tolerated no slights on the honor of his House. The words would not come. That just made her worse.
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