Jinx had been sleeping peacefully.
Not the false stillness of a body too wounded to move, nor the shallow unconsciousness forced upon him by exhaustion. The blood had settled whatever had been screaming inside him, and for the first time since the Milkwater, his face no longer strained against dreams only he could see. His breathing remained weak but even beneath the quiet rush of the underground waterfall, while Xuehara sat beside the stone table with one hand resting in his hair and Eddard kept hold of his fingers.
The Doll had just finished stitching the reopened wound across his abdomen when Jinx's body went rigid.
There was no warning beyond a single sharp breath.
His eyes opened.
The movement was so sudden that Xuehara barely had time to lift her head before Jinx's left hand shot upward and closed around her throat.
His fingers locked beneath her jaw.
Xuehara's breath vanished as he dragged her forward, lifting her partly from the stool beside the table. His eyes were open, but they did not truly see her. The poisonous yellow had faded during sleep, leaving them closer to their natural grey, though his pupils were wide and unfocused. The sanctuary appeared to him only as blurred light, moving shadows, and bodies too close to his wounded state.
Instinct acted before memory.
Jinx twisted upon the table, reopening several of the Doll's fresh stitches as he pulled Xuehara against him. His other hand struck the stone beside his hip, fingers spreading as the air around the table tightened.
Every loose instrument began to tremble.
Glass vials rattled inside their iron case. Dark Sister scraped across the distant worktable, the Valyrian blade shifting several inches toward him without being touched. Water rippled across the underground pool, moving away from Jinx in widening circles while dust lifted from the floor around Gehrman's chair.
"Mother!" Eddard shouted as he lunged forward, his hands closing around Jinx's wrist without attempting to tear it away too quickly. "Jinx, stop! It is us!"
Jinx did not seem to hear him.
A snarl dragged through his damaged throat as the invisible pressure continued gathering. His fingers tightened around Xuehara's neck, and the veins beneath his skin began glowing with faint magenta light as his hunger reacted to the fear erupting around him.
Steel left sheaths across the sanctuary.
Rickard drew Ice halfway before stopping himself, the enormous blade whispering against its scabbard as terror and paternal instinct warred across his face. Arthur stepped in front of Elia with Dawn in both hands, while Barristan's sword appeared beside him. Brandon drew as well, then froze when he realized any attack would pass within inches of his mother.
Xuehara did not fight.
Her hands rose slowly and settled around Jinx's wrist, not trying to force his fingers apart, even as her face reddened and her breath came in strained fragments.
"Jinx," she rasped, but the sound barely escaped his grip.
The air around them compressed.
Stone groaned beneath the table.
The force gathering in Jinx's open hand became strong enough to pull Arthur's cloak toward him and send several empty bottles sliding across the workbench. Eddard planted his feet and held his brother's arm, though he knew he could not stop what was coming.
Gehrman did not move.
The old hunter watched Jinx through the shifting air, his hands folded over the head of his cane while everyone else prepared for the sanctuary to tear itself apart.
"Now, now, little lord," Gehrman said from his chair, his rough voice cutting through the growing pressure without needing to rise. "You should not be so hasty after we spent all evening putting your insides back where they belong."
Jinx's head turned slightly toward the familiar voice.
The force did not vanish, but it faltered.
Several instruments fell back onto the table with small metallic clatters. Dark Sister stopped moving, its point resting against the stone.
Gehrman leaned forward and rested both forearms upon his cane. "There will be plenty of time to strangle people once your vision returns," he continued, his tired eyes flicking toward Xuehara's face. "For now, you might consider welcoming your mother. She has travelled an unpleasant distance to find you."
The word reached him.
Mother.
Jinx's expression changed by the smallest amount.
Confusion entered the anger clouding his face. His unfocused gaze moved toward the person trapped inside his grip, but the blurred shapes around him refused to settle. His breathing grew uneven as he tried to make sense of the scent, warmth, and heartbeat directly before him.
Xuehara's fingers tightened around his wrist.
She did not pull.
Jinx lifted his right hand from the stone.
The invisible pressure faded as his arm rose between them. His fingers were stiff from old breaks and fresh repair, but they moved with sudden care when they touched Xuehara's cheek.
Everyone in the chamber became still.
Jinx felt her face.
His fingertips passed over the curve of her cheekbone, the line of her brow, and the tears gathered beneath one eye. He moved slowly, almost blindly, tracing features his hands remembered even when his eyes could not.
Xuehara leaned into the touch despite his other hand still closed around her throat.
Jinx's thumb brushed beneath her eye.
He felt the wetness there.
His face went empty.
Then horror broke through it.
His grip released immediately.
Xuehara collapsed forward, coughing violently as air returned to her lungs. Jinx tried to catch her, but the movement pulled at the opened stitches across his stomach, and his body folded with a broken gasp.
"Mother," Jinx croaked, the word scarcely recognizable beneath the damage done to his throat.
Xuehara caught herself against the edge of the table before Eddard could reach her. Her hand flew to her bruised neck, but she looked at neither the marks nor the blood running from Jinx's reopened wound.
She looked only at him.
Jinx pressed himself backward against the stone as far as his weakened body allowed. His blurred eyes moved over her face, struggling to focus while panic replaced the feral instinct that had awakened with him.
"I…" Jinx whispered, his voice scraping painfully as he stared at the red marks forming beneath her jaw. His hand remained suspended between them, fingers trembling too badly to touch her again. "I did not…"
"You did not know," Xuehara said as she coughed once more, then reached for him before anyone could stop her.
Jinx recoiled.
The movement was small, but it stopped her hand.
His gaze remained fixed upon the bruises left by his fingers. The memory of hundreds of throats beneath those same hands seemed to return all at once, though he could not yet separate nightmares from what had truly happened.
"I hurt you," Jinx said as he looked away from her, his chest tightening beneath the bandages. "I—Mother, I almost…"
"You woke surrounded by armed strangers while half-blind and cut open," Xuehara said as she moved closer again, slower this time, allowing him to see every inch she crossed. Her voice remained hoarse from his grip, but there was no accusation in it. "You were frightened."
"I was not frightened."
"You nearly threw half the room through a wall before discovering whose neck you held." Xuehara's lips trembled despite the firmness of her tone. "You were frightened."
Jinx's eyes moved toward the drawn swords surrounding the table.
Rickard stood nearest, Ice still partly bared. Brandon's sword remained in his hand. Arthur and Barristan had placed themselves before Rhaegar and Elia, both blades raised despite their efforts not to appear threatening.
The sight made Jinx's breathing change again.
The magenta glow flickered beneath his skin.
Gehrman sighed heavily from his chair. "You have all demonstrated that you possess swords," he said as his gaze moved from Rickard to the Kingsguard. "A remarkable accomplishment. Put them away before the little lord mistakes your collective stupidity for aggression."
Arthur did not lower Dawn immediately. "He nearly killed Lady Stark."
"And you drawing a sword within striking distance of her improved the situation tremendously."
Barristan glanced toward Arthur, then slowly lowered his own blade.
Rickard watched Jinx for another moment before pushing Ice back into its sheath. Brandon followed, though his eyes remained on his mother's throat.
Arthur sheathed Dawn last.
The tension in Jinx's shoulders eased, but not completely.
Eddard moved into his line of sight and crouched beside the table. "Can you see me?"
Jinx stared toward him.
His eyes narrowed as he attempted to focus.
"A dark shape with an annoyingly familiar voice," Jinx murmured, blinking several times while Eddard's features slowly separated from the golden lamplight behind him. "Either you or Brandon after discovering a book."
Eddard laughed before he could stop himself.
The sound broke halfway through and became something closer to a sob. He caught Jinx's hand between both of his again, gripping it hard enough that his twin's damaged fingers complained beneath the pressure.
"You are an arse," Eddard said as tears filled his eyes despite the smile pulling weakly at his mouth. "You vanish for weeks, slaughter half the Wall, nearly tear Mother's throat out, and your first clear thought is to insult me."
"Was not an insult," Jinx whispered as his gaze finally settled upon his twin's face. "Brandon does look confused around books."
"I heard that," Brandon said from the foot of the table, though the anger in his voice failed beneath the relief across his face.
Jinx looked toward him, then toward Rickard.
The faint humor disappeared.
His eyes drifted past them to Rhaegar, Elia, Arthur, and Barristan, lingering briefly upon the royal colors before moving toward the sanctuary itself. The carved stone, crimson Hunter's Marks, and shelves of blood slowly came into focus around him.
Then he saw the dragon egg.
It rested in its nest of folded furs several paces away.
Jinx's entire body tightened.
His hand tore free from Eddard's as he tried to rise.
The Doll placed one palm firmly against the center of his chest and pushed him back onto the table with surprising ease. "The egg is unharmed," she said as Jinx snarled and reached toward it. "You may see it from where you are."
Jinx's gaze remained fixed upon the scaled shell.
"Bring it."
"You will tear your abdomen open."
"Bring it."
The Doll looked toward Xuehara.
Xuehara rubbed the darkening marks upon her throat and considered her son's expression before turning toward Brandon. "Bring him the egg."
Rickard began to object, then stopped when Jinx's eyes flicked toward him.
Brandon lifted the heavy shell from the furs and carried it to the table. Jinx reached with both hands, but pain stopped his left arm halfway. Xuehara helped guide the egg against his side, settling it upon the blankets where he could wrap one weakened arm around it.
Only when his fingers rested against its moss-covered scales did his breathing begin to settle.
Jinx lowered his cheek against the egg and closed his eyes for a moment. His face remained pale, his body trembling from pain and the remnants of panic, but the tension gradually left his jaw.
The Doll began inspecting the stitches he had torn while Xuehara returned to his side. This time, when she reached for his hair, Jinx watched her hand approach and did not pull away. His eyes remained partly unfocused, yet he leaned faintly into her touch as she worked the blood-matted strands away from his face.
"You may scold me later," Jinx whispered as the Doll cleaned the reopened wound.
Xuehara's fingers paused against his temple. "Later?"
"When I am less likely to die from the volume."
A rough laugh escaped Gehrman while Eddard bowed his head against Jinx's hand, and even Elia's composure broke beneath the quiet relief passing through the chamber.
Xuehara bent until her forehead rested against her son's. "You have no idea how much trouble you are in," she murmured as her thumb moved carefully beneath his bruised eye.
Jinx's eyelids lowered again, though he remained awake beneath her touch. "That sounds more familiar."
Jinx let out a long breath and sank back against the pillows for a moment, eyes half-closed as he took in the room properly now that the blur had begun to leave his vision. His mother sat close enough that her sleeve brushed his arm, Eddard still had one hand locked around his as though he expected Jinx to vanish the instant he loosened his grip, and everyone else had arranged themselves around the stone chamber with the strained patience of people carrying far too many questions and not nearly enough trust.
Gehrman had clearly explained something.
How much, Jinx could not tell.
Rickard's expression suggested the old hunter had revealed enough to wound his pride, Rhaegar looked one poorly timed breath away from asking about every piece of magic in the sanctuary, and Elia kept watching Jinx with the quiet, searching concern of someone already imagining what Oberyn would do once the story reached Dorne.
Jinx rubbed one hand over his face, only to wince when his fingers brushed the poorly healed cut along his cheek. "Gods, look at all of you," he muttered, glancing from one solemn face to the next before his eyes settled upon Gehrman. "What did you tell them?"
"Enough that they stopped reaching for swords every time you twitched," Gehrman said from his chair, resting both hands over the worn head of his cane while the Doll calmly cleaned blood from the instruments beside him. "Not enough to satisfy the dragon prince, though I doubt death itself could manage that."
Rhaegar shifted faintly beneath Elia's hand, his curiosity so obvious that even Arthur glanced at him from the corner of his eye.
Jinx gave Gehrman a tired look. "So you told him about the magic."
"I told them you possess it," Gehrman replied, his weathered gaze flicking toward Rickard before settling back upon Jinx. "Your father appeared surprised."
A little more than surprised, judging by the rigid set of Rickard's jaw.
Jinx looked toward him, but whatever sharp remark first rose to his tongue died before he spoke. There would be time for that argument later, and he had neither the strength nor the patience to start it with his mother's bruised throat still visible whenever she turned her head.
Instead, he shifted his weight toward the edge of the table.
The Doll stopped arranging the blood vials.
She did not say anything at first. She merely watched him with the particular stillness that usually meant she expected him to make a poor decision and was deciding whether to prevent it now or allow him enough movement to embarrass himself.
Jinx noticed and sighed through his nose. "Don't."
The Doll's eyes moved toward the fresh bandages crossing his stomach. "I have not spoken."
"You were about to."
"I was considering how far you might fall."
"That is worse."
Xuehara's hand slid behind his shoulder before he could move farther. "You're not going anywhere alone," she said, the rasp left in her voice from his grip making the words rougher than usual. She tried to keep her tone level, but her fingers tightened whenever he shifted, as though every small movement threatened to turn him back into the blood-soaked creature outside Castle Black. "Not today. Probably not tomorrow either."
Jinx glanced at the bruises around her neck and immediately looked away. "I only need to reach the floor."
"You nearly killed yourself reaching the edge of the table earlier," Eddard said as he rose beside him, not releasing Jinx's wrist until he had positioned himself close enough to catch him. There was no accusation in his voice, only the quiet stubbornness that had always made arguing with him far more tiring than arguing with Brandon. "You can pretend you're fine after you've stood for more than a breath."
"That sounds like a challenge."
"It wasn't."
"Poor delivery, then."
Brandon released a breath that almost became a laugh, though he covered it by folding his arms more tightly. "He's awake for half an hour and already trying to turn standing into a contest."
"It would be unfair to the rest of you if I competed while healthy," Jinx murmured, then swung his legs over the side before either his mother or the Doll could stop him.
His bare feet touched the warmed stone.
For one heartbeat, nothing happened.
Jinx straightened slowly, one hand braced against the edge of the table while the other remained caught in Eddard's grip. The strength stolen through blood and magic had restored much of what the weeks beyond the Wall had torn apart, but repair was not the same as healing, and the muscles of his right leg had barely remembered how to bear his weight before the knee folded.
Eddard caught him beneath the arm and hauled him against his side before he could strike the floor.
Jinx's fingers clenched in the front of his twin's tunic, his breath leaving him through his teeth as the pain behind his knee climbed sharply into his thigh. For a moment he did not speak, his face pressed near Eddard's shoulder while he waited for the black spots in his vision to clear.
No one mocked him.
That somehow made it worse.
"Thank you," Jinx muttered at last, the words low enough that only Eddard should have heard them.
Eddard adjusted his arm more securely around Jinx's back, taking most of his weight without making a show of it. "You can repay me by not trying that again in the next ten breaths."
Jinx waited three, then eased more carefully onto both feet. "I make no promises."
Xuehara rose beside them, one hand hovering near Jinx's spine even though Eddard already held him. "You're going back onto that table."
"No, I'm going to eat," Jinx said, but the usual laziness in his voice had thinned into something more serious as he looked toward the blood vials, then toward the dragon egg resting within folded furs nearby. His tongue passed across his split lip before he continued. "A proper meal. Enough to keep the hunger quiet for a few days, because right now I can hear every heartbeat in this room and I would rather not spend the next hour pretending that doesn't matter."
The warmth left the chamber.
Arthur's hand shifted subtly nearer Dawn. Barristan did not move at all, though his attention sharpened. Rickard looked instinctively toward Xuehara, then Jinx, measuring the distance between them as if the room had turned dangerous again.
Jinx saw all of it and smiled without humor. "That reaction is exactly why I need food."
His mother's hand settled against his shoulder. This time she did not argue. "Then we feed you."
Gehrman tapped the end of his cane lightly against the floor. "The dining hall is prepared. Doll had the kitchens opened while the little lord was asleep, though I expect he will complain about the portions regardless."
"I have never complained about portions."
"You once called an entire roasted elk an appetizer."
"I was thirteen."
"You were also not joking."
The Doll moved behind Gehrman's chair and began pushing him toward the arched passage at the far end of the sanctuary, leaving Jinx to guide the others. In practice, Eddard guided him, his arm firm around Jinx's waist while Jinx leaned upon him with as much dignity as someone limping in blood-stained bandages could manage.
Xuehara stayed on Jinx's other side. She did not touch him continuously, but her hand remained close, catching the edge of his sleeve whenever his steps faltered and smoothing his hair away from his face whenever it fell into his eyes.
Rickard walked several paces behind them with Brandon, carrying the silence of a father who had discovered that nearly everything he believed about one of his sons had been wrong. Rhaegar and Elia followed with Arthur and Barristan, the prince's gaze lingering over every carved symbol, glowing lamp, and hidden doorway they passed.
The stone corridor sloped gently downward.
At first it resembled any other underground passage—black walls wet with condensation, narrow channels carrying warm spring water beneath iron grates, and pale lamps burning without smoke. Then the first window appeared.
Rhaegar stopped so abruptly that Elia nearly walked into him.
Beyond the thick glass lay an endless expanse of dark blue water.
Schools of silver fish drifted through shafts of light descending from far above, turning together whenever the group passed. Long forests of kelp swayed beyond broken pillars and half-buried ruins, while the distant shape of something enormous moved through the blue gloom and vanished behind the remains of an ancient tower.
Rhaegar stepped toward the glass, his hand lifting before Arthur caught his wrist.
"It will not break from being touched," Rhaegar said, though his attention never left the water.
Arthur released him slowly. "You don't know that."
Jinx glanced back over Eddard's shoulder. "He's right. It won't."
Rhaegar's eyes followed a dark shape moving between the ruins. "How far beneath the sea are we?"
"Deep enough that the answer will make Arthur more nervous."
Arthur looked toward him. "I am already nervous."
"Then we've saved time."
Elia smiled faintly as she walked past Rhaegar, the blue light from the water catching against the gold around her throat. "Leave the windows alone until Jinx has eaten. You've already nearly asked him twelve questions since we entered the passage."
"I've asked none."
"You've breathed like a man trying not to."
Rhaegar looked after her, then reluctantly followed.
The corridor widened, and the sanctuary's dining hall unfolded before them.
Even Jinx's family stopped.
The chamber was vast enough to belong within a royal palace, though no king in Westeros possessed anything like it. Floor-to-ceiling windows rose between black stone pillars, revealing the underwater world in sweeping, impossible detail. Pale blue light poured through the glass and moved across the polished floor like living water, mingling with the warmer gold of countless candles fixed along the walls and gathered upon iron stands.
Outside, schools of fish passed between the ancient ruins. Kelp forests bent slowly beneath distant currents, their long fronds brushing against broken balconies and carved stone faces worn smooth by the sea. Farther away, towers rose from the seabed like the remnants of a drowned city, their windows glowing faintly with reflected candlelight from within the sanctuary.
A long dark table filled the center of the hall, surrounded by tall carved chairs that resembled narrow northern thrones. Wolves ran through the woodwork, their bodies tangled with roots, frost, antlers, swords, and old northern knotwork. Silver plates and crystal goblets rested before each setting, while pale winter flowers spilled from black stone vases between heavy candelabras.
Above them hung an enormous chandelier wrought from black iron. Its twisted frame resembled a crown pulled from the bones of some drowned king, every curved branch carrying long candles whose flames burned steadily despite the subtle movement of the banners hanging around the room.
House Stark's direwolf covered the walls.
Some banners bore the familiar grey wolf on white, while others displayed darker variations—black wolves beneath silver stars, crowned direwolves surrounded by runes, white beasts upon fields of charcoal and deep blue. They hung between the windows in long pointed strips, stirring faintly though there was no wind within the sealed chamber.
At the far end of the hall, a great fireplace burned beneath another direwolf banner, its hearth carved from black stone into the open jaws of a wolf. Golden firelight rolled across the walls and warmed the room enough that the sea beyond the glass felt distant rather than crushing.
Rickard stared at the banners for several breaths before his gaze shifted toward Jinx. "You built this beneath the sea."
Jinx let Eddard help him into the large chair nearest the head of the table, lowering himself carefully while one hand pressed against his bandaged stomach. "Not alone."
"That wasn't what I asked."
"It was close enough."
Brandon had wandered toward one of the windows, his reflection merging with a passing school of fish beyond the glass. "How long has this been here?"
Jinx reached for the nearest goblet, found it empty, and looked faintly offended by the discovery. "Long enough."
Brandon turned toward him. "That means you're not answering."
"It means I'm hungry."
Xuehara moved into the chair beside him, but not before brushing one hand over his hair and checking the bandage at his shoulder as though she had not watched the Doll inspect it minutes earlier. Eddard sat on Jinx's other side, close enough to steady him if his strength failed again. Rickard took the opposite seat with Brandon nearby, while Rhaegar and Elia settled farther down the table.
Arthur and Barristan remained standing behind them.
Jinx noticed while reaching toward the nearest empty plate.
His fingers snapped once.
Two chairs slid away from the table.
The movement was silent and smooth, though both Kingsguard knights reacted as if the furniture had drawn knives. Arthur's hand dropped toward Dawn before he stopped himself. Barristan simply watched the chair come to rest behind him with the tired suspicion of a man who had already witnessed enough impossible things for one day.
"Sit," Jinx said as he leaned back and rubbed two fingers against his temple. "You can keep guarding them from there."
Arthur did not move. "I'm comfortable standing."
"No, you're making everyone else uncomfortable standing." Jinx looked him over, eyes lingering upon Dawn's hilt before returning to Arthur's face. "No one in this place is going to touch Rhaegar or Elia. The people who know this sanctuary exists are mine, and while the royal pair are under a Stark roof, they're under Stark protection. So sit down before I move the chair under you and make the choice embarrassing."
Elia turned her face away, though the smile at the corner of her mouth remained visible.
Arthur glanced toward Rhaegar.
The prince's expression did not help him.
Barristan released a quiet breath and lowered himself into the offered chair first, testing its weight before settling fully. "I've guarded kings from worse places."
Arthur looked at him. "Have you?"
"No," Barristan admitted, adjusting his sword so it rested comfortably beside the carved arm. "But I'm tired."
That earned the smallest sound of laughter from Elia, and after another moment Arthur sat as well, though his posture remained stiff enough to suggest he considered the chair a temporary concession rather than hospitality.
Jinx snapped his fingers again.
The empty table filled.
The feast arrived without smoke, flame, or any grand display. One moment there were only silver plates and candles; the next the long table bowed beneath platters of food.
Roasted venison glazed with dark berries sat beside whole chickens coated in herbs and butter. Thick cuts of beef steamed upon silver trays, their centers still red. Bowls of black bread, white bread, honeyed roots, buttered turnips, soft cheeses, hard cheeses, sausages, smoked fish, and heavy stews appeared between unfamiliar dishes from Yi Ti and the Free Cities. Spiced dumplings rested beside northern meat pies. Rice steamed beneath lids carved with dragons and wolves. Pastries filled with apples, cream, berries, and sweetened nuts crowded the remaining spaces.
Pitchers of wine, ale, milk, water, tea, fruit juice, and dark spiced liquor appeared near the goblets.
Several blood vials materialized beside Jinx's plate.
The room went quiet again.
Jinx reached for one without looking at anyone, broke the seal with his thumb, and drank it in a few controlled swallows. He did not gulp as he had on the road. He paused between mouthfuls, eyes lowering while the blood settled inside him and the faint tension beneath his jaw loosened.
Only after the vial was empty did he pull a platter of venison toward himself.
Xuehara watched him fill his plate until meat covered nearly every inch of silver.
Jinx glanced sideways at her. "Don't."
"I haven't said anything."
"You're staring loud enough."
"You disappeared beyond the Wall, ate half the people you found, nearly died a dozen times, then woke up with your hand around my throat." Xuehara's fingers moved unconsciously over the bruises beneath her jaw as she leaned back in her chair, the anger in her face unable to hide the relief beneath it. "I'm going to stare while you eat. You can be annoyed when I'm convinced you're not about to start chewing the table."
Jinx looked at the carved edge near his hand. "It is good wood."
Eddard lowered his face for a moment, shoulders shaking once before he got himself under control. "Please don't encourage her."
"I'm encouraging myself."
Brandon reached for the wine, then stopped when Rickard gave him a look and chose ale instead. "You always were impossible when hungry."
Jinx began cutting through the venison, his hands steadier now that the blood had reached him. "I'm impossible when full too. Hunger merely gives me an excuse."
Rickard's gaze remained fixed upon the untouched dishes before him. "You will explain what happened."
The knife in Jinx's hand paused.
No one else moved.
Jinx stared down at the meat for several breaths, the easy sarcasm draining from his face as quickly as it had returned. "I will," he said eventually, his voice lower and rougher than before. "But not while I can still smell Castle Black on myself."
Rickard's jaw tightened as though the answer displeased him, yet his eyes moved over the wounds beneath Jinx's loose robe and settled upon the half-healed puncture near his ribs. Whatever argument he had prepared remained unspoken.
Xuehara reached for the nearest bowl and placed more food upon Jinx's plate before he could stop her. "Then eat first."
Jinx looked at the new portion.
Then at her.
"You think I need more?"
"I think you need everything on this table and half of whatever is in the kitchens."
"That's unreasonable."
"So was crossing the Wall for a sword."
Jinx's mouth opened.
He considered the argument, saw the expression waiting for him, and put another piece of venison into his mouth instead.
Conversation slowly returned around him, hesitant at first, carried beneath the soft clink of silver and the distant movement of the sea beyond the windows. Rhaegar kept glancing toward the blood vials and the drowned ruins outside, Elia quietly redirected his attention toward food whenever the questions became too visible, and Arthur remained seated despite looking as though he expected the chair to betray him.
Jinx ate through the first plate quickly, then a second more slowly as strength and color began returning to his face. Eddard kept his shoulder close enough for Jinx to lean against whenever the effort of sitting upright became too much, never commenting when it happened, while Xuehara continued adding food whenever space appeared on his plate.
By the time Gehrman and the Doll entered the hall behind them, the worst of the silence had eased into something less brittle, though the questions remained where everyone had placed them, waiting beneath the talk and candlelight while fish drifted past the windows and Jinx kept eating.