“Speak the name, and death will come. On the morrow, at the turn of the moon, a year from this day, it will come. A man does not fly like a bird, but one foot moves and then another foot and one day a man is there, and a king dies.” He knelt beside her, so they were face-to-face. “A girl whispers if she fears to speak aloud. Whisper it now. Is it Joffrey?”
Arya put her lips to his ear. “It’s Jaqen H’ghar.”
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