Theon bristled. “I am the Prince of Winterfell and heir to the Iron Islands. Now go find the girl and do as I told you.” Black Lorren gave him a murderous look. “Aye, Prince.” He’s turned against me too, Theon realized. Of late it seemed to him as if the very stones of Winterfell had turned against him. If I die, I die friendless and abandoned. What choice did that leave him, but to live? He rode to the gatehouse with his crown on his head. A woman was drawing water from the well, and Gage the cook stood in the door of the kitchens. They hid their hatred behind sullen looks and faces blank as
...more
