Jon watched her, wary. Never more, Catelyn lied glibly. Besides, even if she could leave the castle, where would she go? It was enough that she could walk in the yard, pick flowers in Myrcella's garden, and visit the sept to pray for her father. No sooner had those formalities of greeting been completed than the king had said to his host, Take me down to your crypt, Eddard.
The direwolves sat on opposite sides of the large round room, licking their wounds and gnawing on bones. Many he found among the dead. For a moment she was too frightened to move. Why are they ringing the bells? The king is dead.
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