
He kept his head down, fixed upon the old stale rushes scattered on the floor. It was not wise to look his lordship in the face. “I was a boy here before the war. A ward of Eddard Stark.”
“You were a hostage,” Bolton said.
“Yes, m’lord. A hostage.” It was my home, though. Not a true home, butthe best I ever knew.
He kept his head down, fixed upon the old stale rushes scattered on the floor. It was not wise to look his lordship in...