Reaching up her left sleeve with her right hand, she flung a handful of powder into the brazier. The coals roared. As pale flames writhed atop them, the red woman retrieved the silver dish and brought it to the king. Davos watched her lift the lid. Beneath wer three large black leeches, fat with blood. The boy’s blood, Davos knew. A king’s blood.
Robb, I hope this reaches you in time. My father has rejected the offer and plans to attack the North, raiding the shores and taking Deepwood Motte. Mobilize your army and make for the North before it’s too late. I’ll write again when I can. Theon