“They made him a knight.” Even frowning hurt. “Find him. Bring him.” “As you say. My lord. Bronn.” Tyrion seized the lad’s wrist. “Ser Mandon?” The boy flinched. “I n-never meant to k-k-k-k-” “Dead? You’re, certain? Dead?” He shuffled his feet, sheepish. “Drowned.” “Good. Say nothing. Of him. Of me. Any of it. Nothing.” By the time his squire left, the last of Tyrion’s strength was gone as well. He lay back and closed his eyes. Perhaps he would dream of Tysha again. I wonder how she’d like my face now, he thought bitterly.
