"No," Isobel said, shaking her head. It was a time when loyalties were to be displayed and proudly, given the new king was not of the Targaryen line. Her father had impressed upon her the importance of appearing loyal, no matter who sat the Iron Throne. Perhaps she'd find favor with this wolf who sat the throne and his falcon wife.
If she did, they might bless a union between she and the young falcon lord. Oh, but that would be blissful, wouldn't it? Musn't get ahead of yourself, Isobel, she chided, shaking that thought from her head like cobwebs.
"I believe it is im...important to show our loyalties on our sleeves in such times of trouble." She pulled the veil she'd worn across the Dornish sands out of her pack and draped it across her nose, not wanting to inhale the stench of the city. It must have been the plague.