Chapter 320

On the flat rooftop of a tower that overlooked all of Nightsong, they had set up a folding long table made of cedar wood, covered with a tablecloth woven from Myrish silk.

Drogo sat in the seat of honor—this was where he dined with his most important commanders.

Tyrion arrived a bit late. He’d been running through the alleys inspecting the sewers, and now his legs ached.