Kvothe had hoped that her companion’s response would help her to understand, but it only confused her more.
Stallions can be dogs sometimes. But Tyr hadn’t been cruel at all. He’d been kind, and gentle - even when he’d claimed her, it hadn’t i>hurt. He took advantage of your panic and lured you away. The stallion had just been trying to help her find her daughter. And when they’d failed, he was just as heartbroken as she was. You have a soft heart, and he could see it. He knew he could play you... Had that really been the bachelor’s intention from the beginning? The reassurances he’d spoken and the gentle touches they’d shared nothing more than an act? Even the thought of it was enough to devastate the red woman, who thought she’d already reached the lowest valley any life could plummet to before Medusa’s sobering words.

She couldn’t believe them; they would break her.

So she wouldn’t. For now, she would believe that Tyr had been everything that he seemed. And later… later, after she had faced Ironclad and reunited with her daughter and given herself time to recover. Later, she would find the stallion herself, and she would ask him. She would ask for the truth, and he would give it to her. Because even if his intentions had been wrong and bad, Kvothe knew that there was at least a small part of him that was good, and kind. She’d seen it, and felt it, and knew that it was real. Medusa couldn’t know him like she did, and whatever stallions she’d known before Ironclad, the ones who had inspired her bitter speech - well, the Friesian hoped to never encounter their like.

Fortunately,the Queen had given her time to gather her thoughts and respond to the question that she’d asked. It sounded as if there was a lesson she was expected to have learned from it all - and in a way, Kvothe supposed there was. She never wanted to leave the Inlet again, no matter what the reason. “I - well, I won’t leave the Inlet again,” she vowed with sincerity. “Not even if Ironclad himself were to ask it of me. It didn’t occur to the chestnut mare that her King might actually ask that of her, after what had happened. That he might reject her - or worse, forgive her but reject the child.

As overwhelming as the present was, she still hadn’t even thought that far ahead.

Do you remember what he looked like or if he gave a name? Kvothe should have anticipated this question, but the sympathies she’d been offered had lowered her guard. If the dun mare blamed Tyr, she didn’t want to give her information that might lead anyone to him… but neither could the red woman lie. The most she could do is omit the full truth. ”He looked a lot like Pike, actually,” she offered, holding the Queen’s mismatched eyes steadily with her deep brown. “It was one of the reasons...I felt I could trust him. Or I wouldn’t have gone near him at all.” That much was true, at least. Kvothe had only approached him because she’d mistaken the gold glow of his coat for her daughter. But once they’d been close, his sympathy and kindness had held her there.

Could it truly have been nothing more than a farce?

“Regardless of the circumstances, I’m glad that we met - Medusa, was it?” Kvothe waited for the nod that indicated she’d sounded the syllables out correctly, then continued. “I’m Kvothe,” she said, stringing out the syllables so that they could be heard clearly: Kuh-vo-thay. There were some who had struggled with her name, particularly the first time. But Tyr… he hadn’t. And she would never forget the sound of his voice, ragged with regret when he spoke. Kvothe, I’m sorry. Was Medusa right? Had he truly intended to deceive her? And she... had she truly believed him so easily?

Kvothe shuddered, and tried to push the persistent thought from her mind.