The boy, Ned echoed. There is a spell. See that the clansmen are ready to ride. Ink-black hair, loose and unbound, cascaded over his shoulders and down his back, well past his waist.
The men had heard it all before; Desmond, Jacks, and Hullen's son Harwin shouted him down together, and Porther called for more wine. If the gods frowned so on bastards, he thought dully, why did they fill men with such lusts? Lord Baelish, what do you know of Robert's bastards? Well, he has more than you, for a start. They know, Jon realized. He had pledged himself to marry a daughter of Walder Frey, but she saw his true bride plain before her now: the sword he had laid on the table.
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