A slave's old friend

"You condemned yourselves to death." Sansa says, her eyes glancing around the room, falling one by one on every trembling favorite.

Astrid is pale as a ghost. With the law in her hand, Sansa could kill her before Tamara or Loras could have any chance to intervene. And no one could blame her.

"Which favorite?" Sansa asks, turning back to the man.

"I didn't see, Your Grace. She was wearing a scarf over her head." He answers and Sansa looks at him thoughtfully for a second.

"Throw him in the dungeon until this investigation is over. After that, you will leave the palace."

The man starts crying again.

"Thank you for your mercy, Your Grace."

Only if Astrid could benefit from a bit of that mercy too. But looking at Sansa's burning eyes, she knew that was not possible.

"Your rooms will be searched." She announces and then looks at Astrid. "Yours will not. I would never hear the end of it if I search through my sister's apartment so consider yourself lucky."

Astrid sighs in relief, but doesn'