An empty boast. Craster was the danger, her own father. She was the Queen Regent, had they forgotten that? Before the Hand's bedchamber stood Ser Menu Trant in his white armor and cloak. She was his king's mistress, not his wife, and his head was the only thing he did not lose.
Crow's Eye, Asha called, did you leave your wits at Asshai? If we cannot hold the north —and we cannot—how can we win the whole of the Seven Kingdoms? Why, it has been done before. Her uncle arrived promptly at sunset, wearing a quilted doublet of charcoal-colored wool as somber as his face. She raised her hand to her cheek, more surprised than hurt. his father agreed.
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