FULL CHAPTER HERE —> NITN 7-6

“—ring him back!”

It took him about halfway down the winding stairs before the old man in the bed started up again, voice surprisingly loud for a dying person. “I s-said, bring him back!”

For fuck’s sake, man. Blue eyes rolling in his head, Greg kept walking until he met the landing into a hallway; boots on stone sounding out over the coughs and shouts echoing behind him. It didn’t help that he’d left the door to Hoster’s solar hanging open behind him, no interest in slamming or closing it.

“That insolent—!” As expected, the shouts continued and continued, the lord of Riverrun barely managing a full sentence before it petered out into a cough halfway through. “Bring that boy to me, I said, now—!”

A pair of servants came around the corner, one of them holding a basket. Both took one look at him and the frown on his face before quickly splitting apart to hug the walls on both sides of the hall, entirely unbothered by stone pressing against their back. The younger one nearly let the basket tip, her eyes on the floor until Greg was finally past her.

He couldn’t be bothered to care or even look back, annoyed by the fact that the old man couldn’t just take a simple no. Seriously, it was all of one syllable. No. Apparently, the bastard with the white beard had been alive sixty-something years on this dustball but nobody nowhere had bothered hitting him with a no at least one time?

Inconceivable! Hell, just from his attitude, Greg figured a girl had to have turned him down for a dance or something. I mean, given his attitude, he probably wouldn’t take no for an answer there either too. On top of that, when you considered that he was a lord and this was medieval times, she probably wouldn’t have much of a choice if he wanted more than a dance too— “Lord Veder!”

Greg let out a sigh, pulled from that bad train of thought by another distraction that was bound to be annoying.

“Lord Veder!”

“What?” Greg snapped his head around the moment Edmure Tully came down the steps and hurried up behind him at half a jog, the other lord’s face blotchy up to the cheeks and one hand up like he was going to grab for Greg’s shoulder. Something seemed to make the redhead think better of it by the time he got within said shoulder-grabbing distance, and Greg figured it had to do with something about the look in his eyes.

FULL CHAPTER HERE —> NITN 7-6