Chapter 309

Drogo beat the wings of his new body, circling above Ramsay Bolton’s head.

Watching him as he moved through camp, everyone who caught sight of the Bastard dropped to their knees in panic and greeted him with stiff reverence, terrified of being even a heartbeat too slow.

Drogo got the same feeling he’d had with the Good Masters in Astapor—only demons who treated human lives like grass could inspire this kind of fear and flattery.