Arya doesn't need any further invitation, she pulls out a seat at the table and scrambles up into it, legs crossed beneath her, piling food onto her plate as though she's never had a decent meal and never learned any table manners. Her mother and Septa Mordane would be aghast.

"How do you do it?" she asks between mouthfuls. "Win. Everybody keeps telling me different things and they all contradict each other."