Chapter 180

All the way down, the staggering Tyrion kept getting shoved along by the Unsullied. In the damp, stifling black cells he nearly slipped several times.

Cursing a fate that loved to trip him, he let the wine talk. “Savages! I can walk on my own! Hear me? I can walk on my own—I’m a dwarf, not a cripple!”

The dutiful Unsullied said nothing, never broke stride, and shouldered past him, knocking the grumbling dwarf ahead.