The mountain road from the Vale to the Riverlands was rugged and treacherous.
Lysa Arryn's party resembled a long gray snake writhing among the jagged rocks.
She had chosen to ride rather than travel in a comfortable carriage.
The biting mountain wind tousled her hair, but could not dispel the madness in her eyes.
She could not believe the letter the raven had brought.
She refused to believe it!
When she stood before her father in the flesh, with her son-the future of House Arryn-beside her, surely he could not still say something so heartless!
Her father was old. He had lost his senses.
Her sister Catelyn had married into House Stark, and her heart had turned to the ice and snow of the North. She had forgotten the bond between them.
They did not understand.
None of them understood what Petyr meant to her!
Still less did they understand just how desperate her situation had become!
Robert's blade was already raised high.
She could almost smell the murderous intent rising from its edge.
She had nowhere left to retreat!
"Mother..."
A timid voice came from behind her.
Robert Arryn, a boy as frail as a reed, clutched his fur cloak around himself and shivered in the saddle.
He had long grown accustomed to the cold winds high up at the Eyrie, but the sinister gusts along this mountain road filled him with a bone-deep fear.
"Why... why are we coming here? I want to go back to the Eyrie..."
Lysa abruptly pulled on the reins and turned to look at her son.
There was not a trace of maternal tenderness in her bloodshot eyes, only the irritation and brutality of someone whose will had been defied.
"Shut up!"
She snapped at him.
"We're going to see your grandfather! To