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"I ate, ma'am," said Saeryn quietly, and nearly ever truthful, "but not much, and early. I was not at breakfast though."
She could still feel the soft bandages, already lighter and looser than before, to remind her of the accident. What on earth had spooked her fearless mare into throwing her? She could not remember. The things that alluded her thought bore into her, dancing on the edges of clarity and driving her impatient with wonder. She loved to know things, and to have jostled memories of her own life from her head was not something she liked much. She had avoided breakfast to sit alone and try to remember more before spending time with men who seemed to know more of her lineage than she. She could remember quite clearly vowing to keep it as secret as were possible, to give the impression of a common lass out for adventure, and yet they seemed to know more than she would have liked. A runaway noble with what family left trailing behind like so many uninvited ducklings. Such thoughts wore her out and made her hungry.
"And yes," she added as an after thought. "I met up with this friend of mine outside a bit ago when I was visiting my mare. I thought it would be nice to share breakfast. Is there anything left?" As was before said, Saeryn was nearly always truthful, and most nearly always for a good cause. Surely in time the girl could be considered a friend, if she stayed, so that was not bending the truth much. She qualified her lie by telling herself that she befriended all in need. After all... there was no need to tell the world that the poor girl had been hiding in the stables. If she wanted the Inn to know, she would tell them. A small lie was rather better than betraying a secret that was not yours.
"Bethberry, would you like to join us?"
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