Questions for the princess. Whatever it was, it didn't sound particularly positive. Little else that day had been,and a sense of foreboding came over Feril when she heard Sir Thomas' next line. The courier looked up from the table slowly, checking to make sure she was being addressed and sitting up attentively straight when she saw that Thomas was pointing to her. Of course, why not? She'd be chopping lumber or working bars in a few weeks but why not skip the harsh life and jump straight to the thumbscrews. "Yessir," she muttered, looking up at Thomas once before returning her gaze to the table. Nothing in her mind could explain why exactly he was interested in her, of all people. Maybe she wasn't exactly invited, but she had at least delivered a parcel here. The fact that it had gone before the king was suspicious, but that was something they'd look for with the local postmaster, who, as it were, was unaware of her presence. Only the woman in armor. A frown broke across her face at the memory. Maybe she actually was a knight, and was involved with this posse. It made sense but it also made things so much worse.