A cold wind was blowing from the north, and it made the trees rustle like living things.

His cloak was his crowning glory; sable, thick and black and soft as sin.

Free folk don’t follow names, or little cloth animals sewn on a tunic,” the King-Beyond-the-Wall had told him. “They won’t dance for coins, they don’t care how your style yourself or what that chain of...

Jon wanted nothing more. No, he had to tell himself, those days are gone. The realization twisted in his belly like a knife. They had chosen him to rule. The Wall was his, and their...