Chapter 125

Snowball dragged a tattered sailcloth to the prison cell, then pulled it over himself like a shroud, leaving only two pale, unglossed eyes peering out into the darkness.

Time crept by. A gusting wind whirled across the waters, waves crashing thunderously against the ship’s deck. Out of the storm a cloaked figure climbed aboard, hauling himself up by the great rivets hammered into the hull.

Through Snowball’s eyes, Drogo instantly recognized him: Jon Connington. The fox he had been waiting for.