The next day was much like the last. They broke camp and walked northeast along the Rosby Road. As the day wore on, Sansa could make out Rosby castle and the underlying town on the horizon.

"Would you tell me more about Runestone, ser?"

"What would you like to know about it, princess?"

Sansa pursed her lips and looked down on Ser Domeric from atop his horse. She wanted to know everything. "I would like to know whatever you think is important."

"What is important? Well, it's an ancient castle on a cliff overlooking the sea, less than a day's ride north from Gulltown. On the other side of the water is Old Anchor. Between Gulltown and Runestone are Fotheringhay village, and then large fields of lavender. We'll go through them, they smell wonderful, and they're very pretty. I think you'll enjoy them.

"Runestone is strong. Siege equipment built into the curtain walls. One of the oldest great castles in the Vale, along with the Redfort. Both castles have a proper godswood with a real heart tree, a real weirwood, instead of something like an oak like the one in the Red Keep. But Runestone's godswood has the Runestone. As wide as a man is tall, and tall as a tree, carved with the runes of the First Men. Covered in those swirls they made. You need to read the Old Tongue to understand the parts that haven't been weathered away. From what we can see it tells the story of how the First Men came to Westeros. Their war with the Children. The pact. The Long Night. Parts of the story are missing or chipped off, but it's clear that the First King of the First Men landed at Runestone before he and his people spread across the continent.

"There are runes carved into the stones of the curtain walls and all the important towers and keeps to stave off evil and keep the men brave. Runes carved above the frames to every important door. The Great Hall, the nursery and the like. There are a few keeps, and a few courtyards. A sept, barracks, granaries, kitchens, a maester's tower, a library, all the things you'd expect a castle to have. Kennels and stables. A forge and an armory. A tiltyard, a yard for training. At least one of everything. Bronze statues everywhere. Lots of bronze decorations. They like their bronze, those Royces. They were the Bronze Kings, after all.

"I am sure Lord Royce will see to it that you receive a proper tour, princess, and that you are told all you wish to know." He took a breath. "My princess, may I ask you a question now?"

"Yes, ser, you may."

"What do you know of the situation in the capital? Between the Lannisters and Tyrells? If Lord Royce is to be of much help to you it would be wise to share with him all you know from your time at court."

"The situation?" Sansa frowned. "Lady Margaery is to marry King Joffrey and the Tyrells have allied with the Lannisters. With food and swords from the Reach, the Crown is very strong. King's Landing would be rioting again if the Tyrells took their bread away."

"Aye, my princess, but is there more that you know? Do the lion and the rose work in concert or are they strangling each other? Will they fall apart with a breath of the wind? Who has more influence, Lord Tywin or the Queen of Thorns?"

Sansa did not know how to answer any of his questions. "I… I… do not know… The Queen kept me locked in my tower most days, unless I was summoned to court. When the Tyrells came, I was invited to spend time with Lady Margaery and her companions. I never saw the Queen or her ladies there. I do not think the Queen likes the Tyrells, but the Queen likes no one. Lady Olenna and Lady Margaery asked me about how Joff was, and I told them the truth, and they're not going to call off the wedding even knowing what he is like. I am grateful to them. They were very kind to me." Then she blushed. "They were going to take me to Highgarden. To marry Lord Willas." Sansa hoped Ser Domeric wouldn't be jealous.

"Then, my princess, it is a good thing that I came when I did. I would not have been able to find you in Highgarden. A match with the Tyrells is hardly better than a match with the Lannisters. Allied to the Crown, the Reach wins the North nothing. And you cannot be wed without your brother's consent." Ser Domeric paused but gave no indication that he was bothered at the idea of Sansa marrying Willas. For some reason that disappointed her. Then Ser Domeric frowned. "You said that the Queen was cold to you but the Tyrells were kind? Did you see anything more that would suggest… strife or discord between them and the Lannisters?"

"I could not say, ser," she said.

"Truly? No hints, no gestures? Not even while you were riding with them outside the city? Where spies couldn't hear?" Sansa just looked at him blankly. "You did not see it in how the court arranged itself after the Reachmen arrived?"

"I… I… no…" Ser Domeric thinks I am stupid now, Sansa thought, her face flaming. And it was going so well too.

"Princess, did Lord Stark and Lady Stark teach you to ask these sorts of questions before you left for the capital? What to look for, who to trust? How to read the political situation under the mummer's farce?" Sansa shook her head. "They did not prepare you. I would have thought… and your mother seems so good at it too. And you were to be the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms…" Ser Domeric was trailing off but then he looked up at her. "It does not matter. I will speak with Lord Royce. He will see that your education is completed and that you receive one as proper to the heiress to a king."

"Thank you, ser," Sansa said, for she did not know what else to say. Warmth was still blooming on her cheeks.

"It's not your fault, princess," Ser Domeric said. "Your father should never have taken you to court without preparing you." Then he was silent for a beat. "But considering how your father was arrested after less than a year in King's Landing and how His Grace has been stumbling from one blunder to the next, perhaps he could have done with further education himself. No offense to Lord Stark, of course."

"Of course, ser," Sansa said. She wasn't offended. She was relieved that he thought it wasn't her fault. Then the relief vanished. It was my fault Father only lasted a year…

Another few beats passed. "When we get to Rosby we cannot be ourselves. I am Ser Donner Stone, a hedge knight from Gulltown. Who would you like to be, princess?"

It took her a few moments to think. She first thought to be Jeyne, but she missed Jeyne Poole too much, and she didn't want to be Jeyne like Jeyne Westerling. So she chose Beth, like Beth Cassel. "Beth," said Sansa. "Just Beth."

"Beth. A good name. My mother's name," Ser Domeric gave her a winning smile. "Who are you, Beth?" Ser Domeric had put on a funny air then. He wasn't speaking like a Northman anymore.

"I… I… am a seamstress' apprentice. From the capital. My mistress worked for the Queen, but she fell out of favor, and had to turn her apprentices out." Sansa didn't have to change her voice.

"Aye, I was in the capital for the Blackwater. And I stayed afterwards, and met you there. Wouldn't leave without you. We were married in that sept near the River Row. Now I'm bringing you back, and we're making a life together. I'll find work with Lord Grafton, or the Arryns, or Lord Royce, and there's plenty of work for seamstresses in the Vale. We're looking for a ship in Duskendale to take us home. We'll be Donner and Beth until we dock at Gulltown."

It was a sweet story. It would be nice to act like she was Domeric's wife.

"I'll stop calling you 'princess', obviously. Sometimes you'll be 'my lady', and sometimes you'll be 'Beth', or 'wife'. You can keep calling me 'ser' if you like, but I'm your husband, you'll have to call me Donner sometimes. Or Don, if you want to seem more familiar." He was giving her a cheeky grin.

Sansa wanted to tell him to stop calling her 'princess' altogether and just call her 'Sansa' for later, but he seemed like he was really enjoying their little mummer's game. Ser Donner Stone had made more expressive faces in two minutes than Ser Domeric Bolton had in two days. He laughed louder, too.

"Donner?"

"Aye?"

"Why didn't we sail from the capital?" Sansa wondered why she hadn't thought of this question sooner. They might have been halfway to Gulltown already if they'd already boarded a ship.

"There were no ships docking at Gulltown for a few weeks, since King's Landing is still recovering from the Blackwater. And I wanted to get out of the capital as soon as we could. It stinks. Nose couldn't take a day more. Better to wait in Duskendale, where the air is fresher."

They play-acted as Donner and Beth all the way to the heart of the village at the feet of Rosby's walls. In the beginning she asked him where his accent was from, but he simply said, "Accent? My lady, I have no accent. It's you folk from King's Landing with the odd manner of speech. From Gulltown to the Bloody Gate, everyone talks this way. You sound stranger than a sisterman, wife."

Sansa laughed.

Rosby village was much smaller than Winter Town, and Rosby castle was much smaller than Winterfell. It was even smaller than Darry, and Darry was one of the smallest castles that Sansa had seen before. It looked like there was only one tall main keep flanked by two taller towers with gently sloping roofs. If there were other buildings, Sansa could not see them beyond Rosby's curtain walls. They came upon the windmill and a farm with a barn first, and Sansa could hear the clucking of the hens, the honking of geese, the bleating of goats and the snorting of pigs. The animals were all much louder than the cattle and the horses that had dotted the outlying wheat fields as they had walked by. The farm stank, but animal stink was healthier, heartier than the suffocating miasma of King's Landing. After the farm was the village proper, and there were a score of daub-and-wattle huts and buildings with thatched roofs where the smallfolk lived and worked. By the signs on the huts, Sansa could see that there was a butcher, a brewer, a seamstress, a smith, and carpenter, at least. There was a small market square by the village green, and horses grazed around the well. On the other side of the green there was a small sept and a small tavern with a small stable attached. Everything about Rosby was small, it seemed.

Many smallfolk were out and about relaxing with tankards of ale in their hands in the purple light of dusk now that the day's work was done. Ser Domeric walked them to the stables and a stableboy came to meet them. He helped Sansa dismount, but when she was steady on the ground, instead of releasing her waist, he leaned in and casually pecked the corner of her mouth. She could feel the fleeting swipe of his tongue on her skin even after he had let her go and turned away to unstrap their saddlebags, and the cool sensation of the air over the damp spot by her dimple left her nerves thrumming all the way down to her toes.

"Beth, love, please take a bag as well." He was motioning to the bag with her clothes with his foot. Ser Domeric had the bag with his clothes and had stuffed his bedroll into the bag carrying his other things.

Sansa colored, nodded, and picked up her bag. Ser Domeric led her into the tavern.

"A room, a bath, and dinner," he said to the tavern keep. "We'll buy food for the road as well."

"Twenty stags for the room, bath, and dinner. We'll decide on the food later." Ser Domeric paid and they followed the tavern keep up the stairs. There was only one floor above the main hall and the kitchen, and that floor only had three rooms. It was a miracle that one was open.

"Bath'll be ready in half an hour. We'll 'ave it brought up 'ere. Supper's on whenever ye want it. Here's the key." The tavern keep left and closed the door.

"You'll bathe first," Ser Domeric said while he was laying their bags on a chair in the corner. "I'll be downstairs trying to get some news. I won't start eating until you come down, and then I'll bathe while you're asleep. I don't need hot water." He rummaged in one of the bags and produced a neatly folded gown and a grey cloak. "I bought this for you, and I noticed that you didn't bring any more clothes than the ones on your back. I'm not sure whether it will fit, but it's something clean."

It was a kind gesture. "Thank you, ser," she said. "It was very thoughtful of you."

"You are most welcome," he said, and gave her another winning grin. He took off the armor and left to go downstairs. Sansa barred the door after the swish of his cloak.

A knock on the door heralded the arrival of her bath. Sansa lifted the bar and allowed the serving boys to haul the steaming tub inside.

"We will keep the tub until the morrow," she told them. They both nodded and scurried back out. Sansa barred the door again, shook her hair out of the hairnet, and began stripping down to her smallclothes. Even under her shift she could tell that a layer of grime had formed on her skin. It would be good to be clean again.

With the bath came lye soap and a pumice stone for scrubbing. Sansa dunked her head under the water and began to lather herself, leaving white suddy trails up and down first her legs, then her arms, then her back and swirling in her hair. She scrubbed her limbs until they were red and raw and the clear water turned grey. I was so dirty, she thought. She hadn't gone so long without a bath since Father died, when she had refused to eat or get out of bed. But she pushed the thought away as she dunked her head again. It was too sad. She was happy here.

I wonder if the Tyrells will miss me. Margaery had been planning to take them all hawking today, with her cousins and Merry Crane and Aly Bulwer, two days since Sansa had left the Red Keep. Megga and Alla and Elinor and had been looking forward to it. Elinor liked to hawk like Margaery, but Megga and Alla didn't really care for it. They liked to hang back and giggle atop their horses while chirping on about Elinor and Alyn Ambrose and whether Horas or Hobber Redwyne would kiss them.

Sansa had thought them silly just two days ago but now she wasn't so sure. It's not silly to want kisses, Sansa thought. It's not silly to want to be loved. Love is not poison. The Queen is wrong. She only thinks that way because King Robert was cruel to her and the person who cares for her most is her brother. When someone kind and good loves you it is different. She dunked her head underwater again and blew bubbles in the soap on her way back up. Suddy foam clung to her face and she swatted it away, her hand lingering on the spot on her dimple where Ser Domeric had kissed her. The thought left her tingling again. Maybe he will give me another kiss later.