The bell in the sept tower began to toll. Each clang was a hammer blow to her skull. The road to the Red Keep was a mile long. A mile of broken shells, horse dung, and the sharp, hidden edges of stones. Every step was a negotiation with pain. She had worn slippers of Myrish lace on soft carpets her whole life. Now, a shard of pottery sliced the ball of her foot, and she bit her cheek to keep from crying out.
Walk.
Not a prayer. A promise.
Walk.
“Your confession must be pure,” the High Sparrow intoned, his voice as dry as old parchment. “Shame is the soul’s bath.” cersei shame episode