Deep in the night, the Red Keep was bitterly cold. Chilly drafts swirled from nowhere, carrying strange, hollow echoes.
Lord Rickard wrapped his heavy furs tighter around himself; weather like this was a bit too harsh for a man of his years. Yet he had no choice but to wait here, accompanied by his unruly, reckless eldest son.
Prince Rhaegar leaned against a fractured pillar in the Hall of the Summerhall, quietly strumming his golden harp. Before him, three figures stood in absolute silence, like quiet statues. His inseparable sworn shield, Arthur Dayne, was not guarding him today.
Chapter 80