Even in her distress, Kvothe could see why Ironclad had chosen this woman for his Queen. Despite her obvious youth, the painted mare was confident and poised. When she spoke, the red Friesian could not help but to listen - and to let herself be soothed. And it wasn’t only because she wanted to believe that she hadn’t failed Pike and disappointed her King. It was because of the firm resolve in Medusa’s voice, and the easy way that she seemed to relate to others. The Inlet herd was lucky to have her - and Kvothe counted herself especially fortunate to have run into her first, instead of Ironclad.

She hadn’t realized before how much simpler it was to communicate with another woman. Someone who could understand everything that their gender went through, and relate to them on a level that no stallion could achieve.

At the younger mare’s encouragement, Kvothe did take a deep breath. Disrupting the erratic, hitching rhythm of her chest enabled her to move on past the tears, but it was still difficult for her to get the right words out. To explain what happened. Even she was still trying to figure that one out. Why had Tyr claimed her like that, when he knew that she belonged to another? And then why, afterward, had he seemed so upset about it? Shaking her head in confusion instead of denial, the slender mare began hesitantly.

“I was looking for Pike when I bumped into a stallion,” she said, feeling a flush of embarrassment when she recalled how she’d mistaken him for the filly from a distance. “He said he’d seen a filly all alone on the Crossing, and that it might be her. I - I was scared then,” Kvothe explained, her voice breaking when she remembered the panic that had flooded her. “Afraid that she would drown, or worse. So I went with him. But by the time we got there, she was already gone. Maybe it was just a filly that looked like her, or - or she found her way back.” It hadn’t occurred to the mare that her companion might have lied in order to lure her away from the herd. He had seemed so kind - as kind as Ironclad had been the first day they’d met.

“I - I was upset then, and he tried to comfort me,” Kvothe continued after taking another deep breath. She didn’t really want to share everything that had happened, and was terrified that her Queen would be angry at her when she learned what she’d done. But though Medusa had spoken it gently, the chestnut mare still interpreted her words as a command. “But I must have done something wrong. He… Ironclad claimed me, last fall,” The tall woman dropped her dark gaze to the ground again, a shiver trailing down her spine. “And this stallion, he did the same thing.”

A hard lump had risen to obstruct her throat, but Kvothe pressed on as valiantly as she could, her words no more than a whisper. “I don’t understand,” she admitted, another few tears managing to escape. “He - he seemed upset afterwards. And I belong to Ironclad. Why would he have done that?”