She even smells of sin, like some exotic lotus. No, mused Cersei, but his heirs may be less squeamish. Fissures had opened in his cheeks, and a foul white fluid was seeping through the joints of his splendid gold-and-crimson armor to pool beneath his body. As she climbed back to the temple, she counted steps, so she would know-where to find the sword again.
The Summer Islander's always underfoot as well. Jaime turned to Rafford. It left me as you see me now. when you came of age.
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