The sun was slanting through the thick yellow windows, and dust motes danced in the light like tinygolden insects. Though snow had blanketed the heights of the Giant’s Lance above, below the mountainthe autumn lingered and winter wheat was ripening in the fields. Outside the window she could hear the laughter of the washerwomen at the well, the din of steel on steel from the ward where the knights were at their drills. Good sounds.
Alayne loved it here. She felt alive again, for the first since her father… since Lord Eddard Stark had died.

there’s someone who still could.