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- Джордж Мартин
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"
It
tasted
salty
,
"
she
murmured
.
"
Like
the
sea
?
"
She
nodded
.
"
I
have
always
loved
the
sea
,
milord
.
"
"
As
I
have
,
"
he
said
,
rolling
her
nipple
idly
between
his
fingers
.
It
was
true
.
The
sea
meant
freedom
to
the
men
of
the
Iron
Islands
.
He
had
forgotten
that
until
the
Myraham
had
raised
sail
at
Seagard
.
The
sounds
brought
old
feelings
back
;
the
creak
of
wood
and
rope
,
the
captain
’
s
shouted
commands
,
the
snap
of
the
sails
as
the
wind
filled
them
,
each
as
familiar
as
the
beating
of
his
own
heart
,
and
as
comforting
.
I
must
remember
this
,
Theon
vowed
to
himself
.
I
must
never
go
far
from
the
sea
again
.
"
Take
me
with
you
,
milord
,
"
the
captain
’
s
daughter
begged
.
"
I
don
’
t
need
to
go
to
your
castle
.
I
can
stay
in
some
town
,
and
be
your
salt
wife
.
"
She
reached
out
to
stroke
his
cheek
.
Theon
Greyjoy
pushed
her
hand
aside
and
climbed
off
the
bunk
.
"
My
place
is
Pyke
,
and
yours
is
on
this
ship
.
"
"
I
can
’
t
stay
here
now
.
"
He
laced
up
his
breeches
.
"
Why
not
?
"
"
My
father
,
"
she
told
him
.
"
Once
you
’
re
gone
,
he
’
ll
punish
me
,
milord
.
He
’
ll
call
me
names
and
hit
me
.
"
