“Why did you say that?” Arya hopped to her feet. “You’re not my brother.”
“That’s right,” he said angrily. “I’m too bloody lowbom to be kin to m’lady high.”
Arya was taken aback by the fury in his voice. “That’s not the way I meant it.”
“Yes it is.” He sat down on the bench, cradling a cup of wine between his hands. “Go away. I want to drink this wine in peace. Then maybe I’ll go find that black-haired girl and ring her bell for her.”
“But … ”
“I said, go away. M’lady.”
Arya whirled and left him there. A stupid bullheaded bastard boy, that’s all he is. He could ring all the bells he wanted, it was nothing to her.
“My mother’s a lady, and my sister, but I never was.” “Yes you were. You were a lord’s daughter and you lived in a castle, didn’t you? And you … gods be good, I never …” All of a sudden Gendry seemed uncertain, almost afraid. “All that about cocks, I never should have said that. And I been pissing in front of you and everything, I … I beg your pardon, m’lady.” “Stop that!” Arya hissed. Was he mocking her? “I know my courtesies, m’lady,” Gendry said, stubborn as ever. “Whenever highborn girls came into the shop with their fathers, my master told me I was to bend the knee, and speak only when they spoke to me, and call them m’lady.” “If you start calling me m’lady, even Hot Pie is going to notice. And you better keep on pissing the same way too.” “As m’lady commands.” Arya slammed his chest with both hands. He tripped over a stone and sat down with a thump. “What kind of lord’s daughter are you?” he said, laughing. “A Clash of Kings”