On the first day, they rode from the camp at Tidtarna, Hathering, crossed the River Yild from which Beatrix’s lands got their name, and slept just outside a small village in the county of Hannart. At first, Beatrix enjoyed being back on the move after the frustrating luxury of Hathering Manor, but on the second day she invariably fell to thinking of Keiran. It was only when they reached Dinnsbrough that she realised how close they were.
‘We’re nearly there,’ she said to Calra. ‘I’m not exactly sure how that makes me feel.’
Carla smiled secretly. ‘Beatrix... You’ll find that often we don’t need to name what we feel - just feeling it is enough. Emotions are complicated, and often won’t fit under any labels. But that doesn’t really matter. If we weren’t so complex, we would be very different.’
This was true. She had been very different, once - she had been a real Lady. Now... now she felt like an impostor, prancing around in someone else’s shoes. But that wasn’t bad. That meant she was different. And she knew she’d be Beatrix whatever happened, however much she changed. She’d been Beatrix all along. It’s just that no one had realised.