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The Great Hall ran red.
The Freys' wails and pleas faded one by one, swallowed by silence.
Nine black-cloaked figures moved through the bodies, turning each corpse over, checking for survivors.
The Tully bannermen stood on the far side of the hall.
They watched the scene before them , a vision of hell , and felt their stomachs heave.
But in the eyes of many, something else flickered beneath the revulsion. A strange light. Fear tangled with greed.
The fear came from Lynn's methods, which defied all reason, and from those nine guards who moved like death given form.
The greed came from the promise Lynn had just made.
The wealth of House Frey. The lands of The Twins.
That was a prize fat enough to make every hungry wolf in the Riverlands fight and die for him without hesitation.
Every man in this room was sharp. They hadn't survived this long by being otherwise.
Lord Hoster had spent years bedridden, his grip on the Riverlands slowly loosening, and that vacuum had bred complications. Each bannerman had quietly nursed ambitions he shouldn't have had.
You want my blood and sweat for nothing?
What exactly are you thinking?
Lynn's offer had hit them exactly where it hurt.
It was a calculated move. Lynn had thought it through carefully.
Keep your eyes on the horizon. Don't let small gains blind you to larger ones.
Frey's fortune was nothing compared to the wealth of the entire Riverlands.
And the entire Riverlands was exactly what Lynn intended to have.
So appearances mattered. He had to be seen giving generously.
Besides, the spoils weren't only for the Riverlands nobility. His own people would share in them too. The Wildlings, the Northern bannermen who had bled alongside him , they couldn't go home empty-handed.
In the end, Lynn would still walk away with the lion's share.
But first, the Riverlands had to be stabilized.
Hunting down every dissenting voice one by one would be satisfying. It would also be a disaster. Crush too hard, too fast, and the men beneath him would grow fearful, then resentful, then quietly treacherous.
Lynn had the Green Sight. Conspiracies couldn't hide from him. But even a thorn you can see is still a thorn.
Better to let the situation settle. Deal with the loose ends later, quietly, one at a time.
"Lord Lynn."
Edmure Tully approached.
He looked at the corpses being dragged like dead animals by the black-cloaked figures, piled in the center of the hall. His father-in-law was in that heap. His brothers-in-law. Those "relatives" who had been smiling at him just hours ago.
There was no pity in him. Not a shred.
Only the twisted, hollow satisfaction of a debt finally paid.
He turned. His gaze sharpened into something blade-like and swept to the corner of the hall.
Roslin Frey.
Pure. Fragile. stunning.
Her white wedding dress was splattered with blood, the pristine fabric ruined beyond saving. Her face , delicate enough to move any man to tenderness , was a mask of pure terror and despair.
She had curled herself into the corner, making small, broken sounds, like a creature that had been frightened past the point of coherent thought.
Undisguised revulsion crossed Edmure's face.
He hated her.
He hated every person who carried that name.
He walked toward her. Each step slow and deliberate.
Each step landing like a weight on Roslin's chest.
"Edmure—"
The Blackfish moved to intercept him. One cold look from Edmure stopped him cold.
"Uncle. This is my business."
Brynden wanted to argue. But Edmure was the Duke now, and doing this in front of every bannerman in the hall would strip the man of his authority publicly. He swallowed whatever he'd been about to say.
Edmure stopped in front of her and looked down.
This woman who had become his wife a few hours ago. This woman who had nearly made him the ruin of his own house.
"No , please , don't—"
Roslin saw what was in his eyes and scrambled backward until the cold stone wall stopped her. Nowhere left to go.
"I didn't know anything. My father's plan , I swear I didn't know, "
She was sobbing, pleading, trying to find words that would save her.
"Silence."
Edmure's voice cut through her like a blade. He crouched down and seized her chin, forcing her face up to meet his.
"You didn't know?"
The words came out through clenched teeth.
"You didn't know your father planned to slaughter my family at the feast?"
"You didn't know the wine you poured me was poisoned?"
Each question hit her like a fist.
She wanted to deny it. She wanted to speak.
But under the weight of those bloodshot eyes, she couldn't form a single word.
Maybe she hadn't known everything. But she had known something was wrong.
She had seen her father and men like Black Walder huddled in secret conference. She had heard voices murmuring behind closed doors. She had simply chosen not to ask. Chosen to comply.
Because she was a Frey daughter.
Her fate had never been hers to decide.
"There it is," Edmure said. "You're not denying it."
He laughed. It looked worse than weeping.
He let go of her chin and stood. Then wiped his fingers against his coat as though he'd touched something foul.
He turned to face the hall. Every man in it. And when he spoke, he put everything he had into it.
"I, Edmure Tully, Duke of Riverrun, hereby declare, "
"This marriage between myself and Roslin Frey was conducted under coercion and deception."
"It violates the will of the Seven and dishonors the name of House Tully."
"From this moment, this marriage is void."
"This woman is not my wife. She is a Frey. Nothing more."
"And she should meet the same end as the rest of her worthless kin."
The last words came out as a shout.
He drew his sword. The tip leveled at Roslin, crumpled on the floor.
The hall went silent. Every Tully bannerman watching.
No one spoke up for her.
In their eyes, Edmure was right. Frey blood had to be drained to the last drop. Not one of them deserved to walk away.
"No , please , Lord Edmure, please, "
Roslin broke completely.
She crawled to him on her hands and knees and threw her arms around his leg, holding on with everything she had.
"Please, for the sake of , for the sake of, "
She wanted to say our marriage. She knew it would only make things worse.
She lifted her tear-soaked face to him. Begging with her eyes.
What she found in his was deeper contempt than before.
"Get off me."
He kicked her away.
She hit a stone pillar with a dull, heavy sound.
Edmure raised his sword and brought it down toward her neck without hesitation.
Roslin squeezed her eyes shut. Waiting.
The pain never came.
CLANG!
A sharp, clean ring of steel on steel.
Edmure's sword was knocked aside by a force that sent numbness shooting through his palm. The blade nearly left his hand entirely.
He looked up.
Lynn was standing in front of him. No one had seen him move.
He had stopped the blow with two fingers, two fingers that carried a faint, bone-deep chill, and deflected it as though swatting away a fly.
"Lord Lynn?"
Edmure stared at him, thrown.
"Duke Edmure." Lynn's voice was calm. "That's enough."
"Your vengeance is done."
"But she, "
"She's a woman who couldn't fight her way out of a room. The real threat was always the Frey men." Lynn cut him off. "These women were cargo to Walder. Nothing more. They hate him as much as anyone in this hall does."
"Kill every Frey male, and within three generations, the name dies on its own."
"Killing her — killing a woman with no means to resist — gains you nothing. And it costs you your reputation."
"But she's a Frey!" Edmure's jaw was set. "She carries their blood!"
"So?"
Lynn's gaze moved to Roslin.
He studied her face , the dust, the tears, the hollow ash of despair behind her eyes.
He walked to her slowly and crouched down.
Roslin's body shook.
She had no idea what this man , the one who had decided the fate of everyone in this room , intended to do with her.
Lynn said nothing. He reached out and wiped the grime from her face with his sleeve. Then he took her chin in his hand and turned her face toward the light, examining it.
The hall went still.
Edmure blinked. Even Roslin forgot to breathe.
"She really is beautiful," Lynn said.
His tone was the tone of a man appraising a piece of fine craftsmanship.
He stood and looked at Edmure. A faint, considering smile at the corner of his mouth.
"Duke Edmure. What do you think is the greatest value of a beautiful woman?"
Edmure had no answer. He didn't understand where this was going.
Lynn didn't wait for one.
"Alliance through marriage," he said. "A beautiful woman is the strongest bond you can forge between two houses. That's what Roslin was always meant to be. A tool."
He paused.
"Of course, she can also serve another purpose. A trophy. A very pleasing one."
"Give her to a loyal subordinate as a reward, and you buy a loyalty that goes deeper than gold. Or keep her close , a daily reminder of what happened to the last enemy who thought they could move against you."
Every Tully bannerman in the hall was staring at Lynn.
His thinking was beyond them. Completely beyond them.
Too ruthless.
Gods, this man is ruthless.
Not just wiping out the Frey men who had dared to resist. But seizing their women entirely, folding them into his control like pieces on a board.
To have a man like this as your enemy was the most terrifying fate imaginable.
Whatever small schemes had been quietly forming in the backs of their minds evaporated on the spot.
Their own deaths they could accept.
But imagining their wives and daughters in Lynn's hands after they were gone,
The thought alone was enough to hollow a man out.
They were convinced. Completely and utterly convinced.
Edmure said nothing.
"So," Lynn said, his eyes settling on Roslin again. "Killing her is wasteful."
"Her life is mine now."
"As a trophy. To be clear."
"The same goes for the other Frey daughters. All of them."
He looked at Edmure. "Any objections, Duke?"
There was nothing left to say. Edmure shook his head.
Lynn glanced back at one of the black-cloaked figures and gave a small, casual wave.
The figure walked to Roslin with its stiff, mechanical gait, bent down, and lifted her off the floor by the scruff like she weighed nothing at all. It paid no attention to whether she was conscious or not. It simply carried her to Lynn's side and stood motionless, a statue that happened to be holding a woman.
"Lord Lynn..." The Blackfish chose his words carefully. "What do you intend to do with her?"
"I'll handle it."
Lynn offered nothing more. He looked out over the emptied banquet tables and the wreckage of the hall, and his voice went flat and quiet.
"Clean this up."
"Hang the Frey dead from the walls of Riverrun."
He turned and walked toward the doors.
Behind him, nine black-cloaked figures followed without a sound, one of them carrying an unconscious woman.
"Duke Edmure."
His voice carried back through the hall.
"Remember our agreement. Three days from now, beneath The Twins. I want to see the trout banner of House Tully flying above the Frey towers."
The words hung in the air long after he was gone , echoing through a hall that smelled of blood and silence.
➤ Next: Alone with Roslin