Chapter 165

Across the whole of Westeros the number of men who stood higher in rank than Domeric could be counted upon the fingers of one hand. What astonished Benita still more was the clear purpose that marked every step he took: the opening of the Lonely Hills, the growth of the iron trade, the conquest of the mountain clans of the North, the campaign beyond the Wall, the taking of King’s Landing, the claim of kingship over the highland tribes of the Vale, and now the design upon the Eyrie itself. Each move was deliberate. He possessed a boldness and an ability to act that few others could match—decisive yet never without measure. With every step the power gathered beneath the pink banner of the flayed man grew stronger.

In short, to Benita’s eyes Domeric was singular. He held a fatal attraction for women, though she could not put into words precisely where that singularity lay. She knew only that few highborn men could open new lands, foster trade, and build strength so easily, or hold such authority at so young an age. Domeric Bolton had done all of these things.

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