Can't allow you to leave London.

Sansa stared at the table, forcing the tears back by willpower alone. Would Salisbury imprison her? Put her to work in some way? Or perhaps something else, something she couldn't even imagine.

Her eyes lifted to the goblet of blood, and she reached out a slim hand and lifted it from the table, taking a sip as the two men talked.

"I, of course, serve the will of the Prince," she said quietly, trying to regain some dignity as she put the goblet down again.