“A visitor, my lady.”
Altheda only registered the words being spoken to her moments after they had been issued and as such hadn’t paid much thought to their content. She looked up from her needlework (or more accurately, the patch of sunlight that shone on her half-finished frame; she’d truthfully let her mind wander and stilled her hands for some time) then asked the sworn knight to repeat his message. She considered his words for only a moment — a visitor? whom? and why? — before politely excusing the busy girls around her, sending them to an early supper.
As she exited the chamber to follow behind the knight, she absently touched at her hair and smoothed her dress. With each step she took, she thought to prepare for this surprise encounter but her confusion only grew as she neared the castle yard. Could it possibly be a mistake? Castle Cerwyn was only a stone’s throw from the main road, perhaps some traveler had gotten lost? And confused? Was it possible someone had aimed for Winterfell and had fallen a half-day’s journey short, needing a place to stay? But why speak to her and not her brother? He was lord of this house now, and better suited for greeting visitors of some import. Or could it be someone bearing condolences? She hoped not. She was not prepared for such a visit.
As she rounded the final corner, she silently cursed herself for not doing the sensible thing and simply asking her escort, but it was too late now as she lightly lifted the hems of her dress as she descended the last short series of stairs.
