Chapter 168

Drogo’s attempt at reconciliation with his wife ended badly. That night, they lay side by side in silence, sharing a bed but dreaming different dreams — and both were awake while doing it.

Unable to sleep, Drogo rose and poured himself a cup of Arbor red. Its sweet-and-sour tang warmed his chest; he liked that — wine that drank like juice but hit like a hammer.

He wandered to the window and gazed across the river toward King’s Landing. The distant lights shimmered faintly, stirring a deep anticipation within him.