August returned Sam's frown with a [i]who, me?[/i] smile, and the tent flap fell shut between them. Immediately his mood plummeted, and he gave the two armed dwarves a foul glare before he sat down to start work on his wound. By now Liam and his own men would be on their way to Verinia, and the queen will be pissed. He'd have to somehow make it right with Narissa while remaining true to his word to Sam. He believed now, firmly, that she was vital to the queen's destruction.

Dorothea's eyes widened as Sam spoke -- and by the time she had finished, the princess' mouth had dropped open. "Well ... uh." She was shocked. Stammering. Her tail fluffed. She sat up very straight and puffed her chest, forcing regal composure. "I'm glad you've decided to come with us," she said in a stately voice. "You would be invaluable, surely -- moreso than the dwarves, as kind as they are. I'm happy we don't have to part ways here, in such terrible circumstances." She paused, careful with her next words. "The Marshal --" her voice began to waver with hatred, and she cleared her throat. "I do have a problem with his coming with us. I very much would like to never lay eyes on him again." Her throat rumbled in a low growl. "But I don't have a better answer. We can't leave him and we will not kill him. We are not animals." She said this gruffly, in detest of her form. "Can you promise me that he can be kept under control?"