Isobel held the veil a little closer to her nose. She was unused to the smell of the city--Dorne held its seat at Sunspear, but it was nothing even remotely remembering a city and Oldtown had none of this stench. Oldtown was a beautiful city, on the sea and fragrant and beautiful. King's Landing was a dizzying press of humanity and Isobel shrieked when a man tried to pull her from her mount.
"Lord Arys!" she shouted, trying to canter closer to him. "Why exactly do...what...he nearly unhorsed me!"
She supposed that a more experienced girl would expect such things, but she did not. Even the Dalts wouldn't be so bold.