Robb Stark paced outside Lynn's door.
The snow beneath his boots crunched, and anxiety all but poured out of him.
He had already spent ages forcing out an explanation under his mother's murderous glare.
Then his sister Arya had spent a good while looking at him as though he were a complete idiot before he finally found a chance to escape.
"Lynn!"
Robb could stand it no longer. He shoved the door open, forgetting even to knock.
Lynn sat before the fireplace with Myrcella nestled sweetly in his lap. He did not even raise his head at the sound.
"The door wasn't locked, but I'd still suggest knocking next time. What if I'm busy working on the next generation?"
"I just got word. Theon's really run off!"
Robb had no patience for his teasing and strode straight over to him.
Myrcella discreetly straightened her thoroughly disheveled top, curtsied to them both, and left the room.
"I sent men searching everywhere a few days ago. They turned the castle inside out and searched around Winterfell too, but he'd vanished into thin air."
He crumpled the letter in his hand.
It had come from Deepwood Motte.
It confirmed that Theon Greyjoy had abandoned the northern garrison and ridden alone toward the western coast.
"He must be going to the Iron Islands. Balon's definitely going to attack the North!"
Robb's worry was plain in every word.
He knew Theon, and he knew Theon's father, Balon.
House Greyjoy's ambition had never died. They had been waiting for their chance all along.
"That bastard!"
"Father treated him like a son, and I treated him like a brother. How could he betray us at a time like this?"
Robb clenched his fists so tightly that veins bulged across the backs of his hands.
"He must have