Several moments passed before he spoke, his voice brisk and carrying what sounded like a hint of amusement. "Of course. Why else would I have called you here now? We do it tonight, before they have a chance to prepare. It'll certainly be easier than trying it at Winterfell."
"You lot, take all my personal guards with you. No torches. Circle around through the shallow ditch to the north. She's beside the wagon in the middle of the Wildling camp. Gag her straight away, bind her tight, and bring her back. Don't alert the other Wildlings. If anything goes wrong, say it was the Outlaws from this part of the North. They took a fancy to the Wildling princess. As for Lord Roger, I'll deal with him myself."
No one in the tent was laughing now. Ramsay tossed the blackstone pebble into the pile of ash beside the brazier and added quietly, "But if any of you unties her on the way back, or looks at anything he shouldn't, I'll have him leave his eyeballs in the snow at the Wildling camp. I want her standing before me untouched."
The boys immediately clamored their agreement, laughing even more brazenly than before. Jon only felt his stomach tighten, his knuckles unconsciously whitening around his sword hilt.
Roger Bolton had said Ramsay was no fool and would not lead soldiers against the Wildlings, but Ramsay clearly had no intention of letting the matter rest.
Jon slowly withdrew behind the grain wagon, out of sight of the men beside the brazier, then turned and headed back to his own tent.
The North was bitterly cold at night. The wind swept in from every direction, scraping his face like blades, yet a thin sheen of sweat covered Jon's back.
He lay awake through the