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- Джордж Мартин
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- Стр. 58/853
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He
could
taste
the
wine
on
her
lips
,
and
feel
her
small
firm
breasts
pressed
against
him
as
her
fingers
moved
to
the
lacings
of
his
breeches
.
"
My
lion
,
"
she
whispered
when
he
broke
off
the
kiss
to
undress
.
"
My
sweet
lord
,
my
giant
of
Lannister
.
"
Tyrion
pushed
her
toward
the
bed
.
When
he
entered
her
,
she
screamed
loud
enough
to
wake
Baelor
the
Blessed
in
his
tomb
,
and
her
nails
left
gouges
in
his
back
.
He
’
d
never
had
a
pain
he
liked
half
so
well
.
Fool
,
he
thought
to
himself
afterward
,
as
they
lay
in
the
center
of
the
sagging
mattress
amidst
the
rumpled
sheets
.
Will
you
never
learn
,
dwarf
?
She
’
s
a
whore
,
damn
you
,
it
’
s
your
coin
she
loves
,
not
your
cock
Remember
Tysha
?
Yet
when
his
fingers
trailed
lightly
over
one
nipple
,
it
stiffened
at
the
touch
,
and
he
could
see
the
mark
on
her
breast
where
he
’
d
bitten
her
in
his
passion
.
"
So
what
will
you
do
,
m
’
lord
,
now
that
you
’
re
the
Hand
of
the
King
?
"
Shae
asked
him
as
he
cupped
that
warm
sweet
flesh
.
"
Something
Cersei
will
never
expect
,
"
Tyrion
murmured
softly
against
her
slender
neck
.
"
I
’
ll
do
.
.
.
justice
.
"
Bran
preferred
the
hard
stone
of
the
window
seat
to
the
comforts
of
his
featherbed
and
blankets
.
Abed
,
the
walls
pressed
close
and
the
ceiling
hung
heavy
above
him
;
abed
,
the
room
was
his
cell
,
and
Winterfell
his
prison
.
Yet
outside
his
window
,
the
wide
world
still
called
.
He
could
not
walk
,
nor
climb
nor
hunt
nor
fight
with
a
wooden
sword
as
once
he
had
,
but
he
could
still
look
.
He
liked
to
watch
the
windows
begin
to
glow
all
over
Winterfell
as
candles
and
hearth
fires
were
lit
behind
the
diamond
-
shaped
panes
of
tower
and
hall
,
and
he
loved
to
listen
to
the
direwolves
sing
to
the
stars
.
Of
late
,
he
often
dreamed
of
wolves
.
They
are
talking
to
me
,
brother
to
brother
,
he
told
himself
when
the
direwolves
howled
.
He
could
almost
understand
them
.
.
.
not
quite
,
not
truly
,
but
almost
.
.
.
as
if
they
were
singing
in
a
language
he
had
once
known
and
somehow
forgotten
.
The
Walders
might
be
scared
of
them
,
but
the
Starks
had
wolf
blood
.
Old
Nan
told
him
so
.
"
Though
it
is
stronger
in
some
than
in
others
,
"
she
warned
.
Summer
’
s
howls
were
long
and
sad
,
full
of
grief
and
longing
.
Shaggydog
’
s
were
more
savage
.
Their
voices
echoed
through
the
yards
and
halls
until
the
castle
rang
and
it
seemed
as
though
some
great
pack
of
direwolves
haunted
Winterfell
,
instead
of
only
two
.
.
.
two
where
there
had
once
been
six
.
Do
they
miss
their
brothers
and
sisters
too
?
Bran
wondered
.
Are
they
calling
to
Grey
Wind
and
Ghost
,
to
Nymeria
and
Lady
’
s
Shade
?
Do
they
want
them
to
come
home
and
be
a
pack
together
?
