"They didn't turn me to glass, Prosper." She smiled again and squeezed his hand carefully and just a bit experimentally. It didn't make the pain particularly worse, so that was one small victory.
She shook her head. "And who to request vengeance from? I don't even remember being attacked. What sort of assassin leaves without killing?" Elia looked at her nephew sadly. "This was a message. Dymon wants to take me from here as soon a I can be moved, but I fear that's what we were meant to do." And what would become of a Martell prince (no matter what Henry's opinions of politics were) left unprotected in the wolf king's court? By Northron reckoning, Prosperyn was for all his or Henry's vows the second in line to hold Dorne...
"The wolf king's grip has a bitter price. Blood and grief- perhaps the Starks should take up new words." Elia's voice was worn with sorrow but she touched Prosperyn's hand in reassurance. "Wolves are fierce but dragons live longer... and the sun is eternal," she said in a whisper.