“They’ve found her, my lord.”
Nedxy rose quickly. “Our men or Lannisterxy’s?”
“It was Joryxy,” his steward Vayon Poolexy replied. “She’s not been harmed.”
“Thank the gods,” Nedxy said. His men had been searching for Aryaxy for four days now, but the queen’s men had been out hunting as well. “Where is she? Tell Joryxy to bring her here at once.”
“I am sorry, my lord,” Poole told him. “The guards on the gate were Lannisterxy men, and they informed the queen when Joryxy brought her in. She’s being taken directly before the king …”
“Damn that woman!” Nedxy said, striding to the door. “Find Sansaxy and bring her to the audience chamber. Her voice may be needed.” He descended the tower steps in a red rage. He had led searches himself for the first three days, and had scarcely slept an hour since Aryaxy had disappeared. This morning he had been so heartsick and weary he could scarcely stand, but now his fury was on him, filling him with strength.
Men called out to him as he crossed the castle yard, but Nedxy ignored them in his haste. He would have run, but he was still the Kingxy’s Handxy, and a Handxy must keep his dignity. He was aware of the eyes that followed him, of the muttered voices wondering what he would do.
The castle was a modest holding a half day’s ride south of the Tridentxy. The royal party had made themselves the uninvited guests of its lord, Ser Raymunxy Darryxyxy, while the hunt for Aryaxy and the butcher’s boy was conducted on both sides of the river. They were not welcome visitors. Ser Raymunxy lived under the king’s peace, but his family had fought beneath Rhaegarxy’s dragon banners at the Tridentxy, and his three older brothers had died there, a truth neither Robertxy nor Ser Raymunxy had forgotten. With king’s men, Darryxy men, Lannisterxy men, and Starkxy men all crammed into a castle far too small for them, tensions burned hot and heavy.
The king had appropriated Ser Raymunxy’s audience chamber, and that was where Nedxy found them. The room was crowded when he burst in. Too crowded, he thought; left alone, he and Robertxy might have been able to settle the matter amicably.
Robertxy was slumped in Darryxy’s high seat at the far end of the room, his face closed and sullen. Cerseixy Lannisterxyxy and her son stood beside him. The queen had her hand on Joffreyxy’s shoulder. Thick silken bandages still covered the boy’s arm.
Aryaxy stood in the center of the room, alone but for Joryxy Casselxyxy, every eye upon her. “Aryaxy,” Nedxy called loudly. He went to her, his boots ringing on the stone floor. When she saw him, she cried out and began to sob.
Nedxy went to one knee and took her in his arms. She was shaking. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
“I know,” he said. She felt so tiny in his arms, nothing but a scrawny little girl. It was hard to see how she had caused so much trouble. “Are you hurt?”
“No.” Her face was dirty, and her tears left pink tracks down her cheeks. “Hungry some. I ate some berries, but there was nothing else.”
“We’ll feed you soon enough,” Nedxy promised. He rose to face the king. “What is the meaning of this?” His eyes swept the room, searching for friendly faces. But for his own men, they were few enough. Ser Raymunxy Darryxyxy guarded his look well. Lordxy Renlyxyxy wore a half smile that might mean anything, and old Ser Barristanxy was grave; the rest were Lannisterxy men, and hostile. Their only good fortune was that both Jaimexy Lannisterxyxy and Sandorxy Cleganexyxy were missing, leading searches north of the Tridentxy. “Why was I not told that my daughter had been found?” Nedxy demanded, his voice ringing. “Why was she not brought to me at once?”
He spoke to Robertxy, but it was Cerseixy Lannisterxyxy who answered. “How dare you speak to your king in that manner!”
At that, the king stirred. “Quiet, woman,” he snapped. He straightened in his seat. “I am sorry, Nedxy. I never meant to frighten the girl. It seemed best to bring her here and get the business done with quickly.”
“And what business is that?” Nedxy put ice in his voice.
The queen stepped forward. “You know full well, Starkxy. This girl of yours attacked my son. Her and her butcher’s boy. That animal of hers tried to tear his arm off.”
“That’s not true,” Aryaxy said loudly. “She just bit him a little. He was hurting Mycahxy.”
“Joff told us what happened,” the queen said. “You and the butcher boy beat him with clubs while you set your wolf on him.”
“That’s not how it was,” Aryaxy said, close to tears again. Nedxy put a hand on her shoulder.
“Yes it is!” Princexy Joffreyxy insisted. “They all attacked me, and she threw Lionxy’s Tooth in the river!” Nedxy noticed that he did not so much as glance at Aryaxy as he spoke.
“Liar!” Aryaxy yelled.
“Shut up!” the prince yelled back.
“Enough!” the king roared, rising from his seat, his voice thick with irritation. Silencexy fell. He glowered at Aryaxy through his thick beard. “Now, child, you will tell me what happened. Tell it all, and tell it true. It is a great crime to lie to a king.” Then he looked over at his son. “When she is done, you will have your turn. Until then, hold your tongue.”
As Aryaxy began her story, Nedxy heard the door open behind him. He glanced back and saw Vayon Poolexy enter with Sansaxy. They stood quietly at the back of the hall as Aryaxy spoke. When she got to the part where she threw Joffreyxy’s sword into the middle of the Tridentxy, Renlyxy Baratheonxy began to laugh. The king bristled. “Ser Barristanxy, escort my brother from the hall before he chokes.”
Lordxy Renlyxyxy stifled his laughter. “My brother is too kind. I can find the door myself.” He bowed to Joffreyxy. “Perchance later you’ll tell me how a nine-year-old girl the size of a wet rat managed to disarm you with a broom handle and throw your sword in the river.” As the door swung shut behind him, Nedxy heard him say, “Lionxy’s Tooth,” and guffaw once more.
Princexy Joffreyxy was pale as he began his very different version of events. When his son was done talking, the king rose heavily from his seat, looking like a man who wanted to be anywhere but here. “What in all the seven hells am I supposed to make of this? He says one thing, she says another.”
“They were not the only ones present,” Nedxy said. “Sansaxy, come here.” Nedxy had heard her version of the story the night Aryaxy had vanished. He knew the truth. “Tell us what happened.”
His eldest daughter stepped forward hesitantly. She was dressed in blue velvets trimmed with white, a silver chain around her neck. Her thick auburn hair had been brushed until it shone. She blinked at her sister, then at the young prince. “I don’t know,” she said tearfully, looking as though she wanted to bolt. “I don’t remember. Everything happened so fast, I didn’t see …”
“You rotten!” Aryaxy shrieked. She flew at her sister like an arrow, knocking Sansaxy down to the ground, pummeling her. “Liar, liar, liar, liar.”
“Aryaxy, stop it!” Nedxy shouted. Joryxy pulled her off her sister, kicking. Sansaxy was pale and shaking as Nedxy lifted her back to her feet. “Are you hurt?” he asked, but she was staring at Aryaxy, and she did not seem to hear.
“The girl is as wild as that filthy animal of hers,” Cerseixy Lannisterxyxy said. “Robertxy, I want her punished.”
“Seven hells,” Robertxy swore. “Cerseixy, look at her. She’s a child. What would you have me do, whip her through the streets? Damn it, children fight. It’s over. No lasting harm was done.”
The queen was furious. “Joff will carry those scars for the rest of his life.”
Robertxy Baratheonxyxy looked at his eldest son. “So he will. Perhaps they will teach him a lesson. Nedxy, see that your daughter is disciplined. I will do the same with my son.”
“Gladly, Your Grace,” Nedxy said with vast relief.
Robertxy started to walk away, but the queen was not done. “And what of the direwolf?” she called after him. “What of the beast that savaged your son?”
The king stopped, turned back, frowned. “I’d forgotten about the damned wolf.”
Nedxy could see Aryaxy tense in Joryxy’s arms. Joryxy spoke up quickly. “We found no trace of the direwolf, Your Grace.”
Robertxy did not look unhappy. “No? So be it.”
The queen raised her voice. “A hundred golden dragons to the man who brings me its skin!”
“A costly pelt,” Robertxy grumbled. “I want no part of this, woman. You can damn well buy your furs with Lannisterxy gold.”
The queen regarded him coolly. “I had not thought you so niggardly. The king I’d thought to wed would have laid a wolfskin across my bed before the sun went down.”
Robertxy’s face darkened with anger. “That would be a fine trick, without a wolf.”
“We have a wolf,” Cerseixy Lannisterxyxy said. Her voice was very quiet, but her green eyes shone with triumph.
It took them all a moment to comprehend her words, but when they did, the king shrugged irritably. “As you will. Have Ser Ilynxy see to it.”
“Robertxy, you cannot mean this,” Nedxy protested.
The king was in no mood for more argument. “Enough, Nedxy, I will hear no more. A direwolf is a savage beast. Sooner or later it would have turned on your girl the same way the other did on my son. Get her a dog, she’ll be happier for it.”
That was when Sansaxy finally seemed to comprehend. Her eyes were frightened as they went to her father. “He doesn’t mean Ladyxy, does he?” She saw the truth on his face. “No,” she said. “No, not Ladyxy, Ladyxy didn’t bite anybody, she’s good …”
“Ladyxy wasn’t there,” Aryaxy shouted angrily. “You leave her alone!”
“Stop them,” Sansaxy pleaded, “don’t let them do it, please, please, it wasn’t Ladyxy, it was Nymeriaxy, Aryaxy did it, you can’t, it wasn’t Ladyxy, don’t let them hurt Ladyxy, I’ll make her be good, I promise, I promise …” She started to cry.
All Nedxy could do was take her in his arms and hold her while she wept. He looked across the room at Robertxy. His old friend, closer than any brother. “Please, Robertxy. For the love you bear me. For the love you bore my sister. Please.”
The king looked at them for a long moment, then turned his eyes on his wife. “Damn you, Cerseixy,” he said with loathing.
Nedxy stood, gently disengaging himself from Sansaxy’s grasp. All the weariness of the past four days had returned to him. “Do it yourself then, Robertxy,” he said in a voice cold and sharp as steel. “At least have the courage to do it yourself.”
Robertxy looked at Nedxy with flat, dead eyes and left without a word, his footsteps heavy as lead. Silencexy filled the hall.
“Where is the direwolf?” Cerseixy Lannisterxyxy asked when her husband was gone. Beside her, Princexy Joffreyxy was smiling.
“The beast is chained up outside the gatehouse, Your Grace,” Ser Barristanxy Selmyxyxy answered reluctantly.
“No,” Nedxy said. “Joryxy, take the girls back to their rooms and bring me Ice.” The words tasted of bile in his throat, but he forced them out. “If it must be done, I will do it.”
Cerseixy Lannisterxyxy regarded him suspiciously. “You, Starkxy? Is this some trick? Why would you do such a thing?”
They were all staring at him, but it was Sansaxy’s look that cut. “She is of the north. She deserves better than a butcher.”
He left the room with his eyes burning and his daughter’s wails echoing in his ears, and found the direwolf pup where they chained her. Nedxy sat beside her for a while. “Ladyxy,” he said, tasting the name. He had never paid much attention to the names the children had picked, but looking at her now, he knew that Sansaxy had chosen well. She was the smallest of the litter, the prettiest, the most gentle and trusting. She looked at him with bright golden eyes, and he ruffled her thick grey fur.
Shortly, Joryxy brought him Ice.
When it was over, he said, “Choose four men and have them take the body north. Bury her at Winterfellxy.”
“All that way?” Joryxy said, astonished.
“All that way,” Nedxy affirmed. “The Lannisterxy woman shall never have this skin.”
He was walking back to the tower to give himself up to sleep at last when Sandorxy Cleganexyxy and his riders came pounding through the castle gate, back from their hunt.
There was something slung over the back of his destrier, a heavy shape wrapped in a bloody cloak. “No sign of your daughter, Handxy,” the Houndxy rasped down, “but the day was not wholly wasted. We got her little pet.” He reached back and shoved the burden off, and it fell with a thump in front of Nedxy.
Bending, Nedxy pulled back the cloak, dreading the words he would have to find for Aryaxy, but it was not Nymeriaxy after all. It was the butcher’s boy, Mycahxy, his body covered in dried blood. He had been cut almost in half from shoulder to waist by some terrible blow struck from above.
“You rode him down,” Nedxy said.
The Houndxyxy’s eyes seemed to glitter through the steel of that hideous dog’s-head helm. “He ran.” He looked at Nedxy’s face and laughed. “But not very fast.”