Theon wiped the spittle off his cheek with the back of his hand. " Robb will gut you, Greyjoy, " Benfred Tallheart screamed. " He'll feed your turncloak's heart to his wolf, you piece of sheep dung" .
" Yester—" A fit of coughing bent him over. " Yesterday. To be sure" . Lord Gyles coughed into a square of red silk, as if to hide the blood in his spittle. Cersei pretended not to notice.