A Feast for Crows

Chapter One

DAENERYS

She could hear the dead man coming. The slow, measured tread of footsteps went before him up the steps, echoing amongst the pillars of the purple marble hall.

"Your Grace," said Ser Barristan Selmy, the Lord Commander of her Queensguard, "there is no need for you to suffer this."

"There is." Dany’s voice was firm. "He died for me." She clutched her lion pelt more tightly. Underneath her sheer white linen sleeping tunic covered her only to mid-thigh. She had been dreaming when Missandei woke her, dreaming of a house with a red door, and there had been no time to dress.

"Khaleesi," said her handmaid Irri, "you must not touch the dead man. It is bad luck to touch the dead."

"Unless you have killed them yourself," said Jhiqui, her other handmaid. She was bigger-boned than Irri, with wide hips and heavy breasts. "That is known."

"It is known," Irri agreed.

Dany paid them no mind. Dothraki were wise where horses were concerned, but they could be utter fools about much else. They are only ... read full excerpt from A Feast for Crows ebook