Dorothea stared after Sam in alarm, her eyes big and her ears high. She looked to the dwarves for help, but they only watched grimly, all of them fully believing that Sam was being played, that she was falling for the Marshal's terrible tricks. They didn't stop her, however -- they couldn't say a word without proving the Marshal's point, and that was the worst kind of helplessness. They were forced to let Sam make her own decision.

With the gag removed, the Marshal breathed and swallowed -- though he never let his eyes move away from hers. For a moment he was quiet, and he glared into her ferocious eyes for a few silent moments just to see if she would look away. When she didn't -- when she held his gaze just as fiercely -- he smirked just a little, satisfied that for the moment she would only judge for herself.

"My name is August Derrick," he said firmly, though quiet -- Dorothea's ears were swiveled toward them, and the princess was listening with all her feline might. There were some things he would rather not say in front of the princess. He whispered in a voice steady and determined, so only Sam would hear. "I work for the queen precisely because I want to stop her. I have done horrible things," he snarled, and his voice lowered to a hiss, "and in return she tells me her secrets, she trusts me to carry out her plans, she keeps me close. Sooner or later she'll show me her weakness. That's what I'm waiting for. The moment I know where to strike I will destroy the queen." His eyes were intense; he would die for this. His reputation, his honor, and the trust of everyone he knew had already been sacrificed. "You can't tell any of this to Dorothea. She has to keep hating me, it's vital that the queen never suspects." If Narissa even thought for a moment that Dorothea doubted the evils of the Marshal, the queen would turn her back on him, and everything he had built would have been for nothing. He set his jaw, and he gave Sam a grim smile. "But I can't stop you from telling her, can I?"