Come to the godswood tonight, if you want to go home.  The words were the same on the hundredth reading as they’d been on the first, when Sansa had discovered the folded sheet of parchment beneath her pillow. She did not know how it had gotten there or who had sent it. The note was unsigned, unsealed, and the hand unfamiliar¹. She crushed the parchment to her chest and whispered the words to herself. “Come to the godswood tonight, if you want to go home,” she breathed, ever so faintly.  What could it mean? Should she take it to the queen to prove that she was being good? Nervously², she rubbed her stomach. The angry purple bruise³ Ser Meryn had given her had faded to an ugly yellow, but still hurt. His fist had been mailed when he hit her. It was her own fault. She must learn to hide her feelings better, so as not to anger Joffrey. When she heard that the imp⁴ had sent Lord Slynt to the Wall, she had forgotten herself and said, “I hope the Others get him.” The king had not been pleased.  Come to the godswood tonight, if you want to go home.  Sansa had prayed so hard. Could this be her answer at last, a true knight⁵ sent to save her? Perhaps it was one of the Redwyne twins, or bold Ser Balon Swann... or even Beric Dondarrion, the young lord her friend Jeyne Poole had loved, with his red-gold hair and the spray of stars on his black cloak.  Come to the godswood tonight, if you want to go home.  What if it was some cruel jape of Joffrey’s, like the day he had taken her up to the battlements to show her Father’s head? Or perhaps it was some subtle snare⁶ to prove she was not loyal. If she went to the godswood, would she find Ser Ilyn Payne waiting for her, sitting silent under the heart tree with Ice in his hand, his pale eyes watching to see if she’d come?  Come to the godswood tonight, if you want to go home.  When the door opened, she hurriedly stuffed the note under her sheet and sat on it. It was her bedmaid, the mousy one with the limp brown hair. “What do you want?” Sansa demanded.  “Will milady be wanting a bath tonight?”  “A fire, I think... I feel a chill.” She was shivering, though the day had been hot.  “As you wish.”  Sansa watched the girl suspiciously. Had she seen the note? Had she put it under the pillow? It did not seem likely; she seemed a stupid girl, not one you’d want delivering secret notes, but Sansa did not know her. The queen had her servants changed every fortnight, to make certain none of them befriended her.  When a fire was blazing in the

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