In the courtyard.
Hundreds of women of House Frey were herded together like lambs to the slaughter by Tully soldiers acting on Lynn's orders.
They wore plain clothes of various colors and looked no different from commoners.
It seemed they had not lived well under House Frey.
Their faces were bloodless, their eyes hollow.
Among them were Walder Frey's countless wives and mistresses.
There were his dozens of daughters, granddaughters, and even great-granddaughters.
Three days ago, they had lived beneath House Frey's sunless shadow.
Now, they had become Lynn's prisoners.
What dreadful fate awaited them next?
Would they be awarded to soldiers who had distinguished themselves?
Sold to brothels in Essos?
Or... buried alive together, like the women of House Reyne?
Fear tightened around every neck like a noose. They no longer even had the strength to cry.
Roslin Frey stood at the front of the crowd, guiding those wretched women.
She had changed into a clean maid's uniform, and her hair was immaculately combed.
She looked out of place among her filthy, disheveled sisters.
As she looked at those faces, both familiar and strange, conflicting emotions filled her heart.
There was an older sister who had always comforted her.
There was an aunt who had secretly slipped her sweets, yet never dared defy her father's tyranny.
And there were many more distant "relatives" whose names she did not even know.
Three days ago, she had been just like them, certain she was doomed.
Now, however, she stood there as the victor's maid, contemplating their fate.
Still, the outcome was a good one.
Lord Lynn had already decided to spare them.
Roslin could easily imagine the ecstatic expressions they would soon wear.
At the thought, a smile touched her lips.
She could not help stealing a glance at the black-clad