Feril followed behind Thomas with a completely refreshed demeanor, fighting to keep her head held up high and not bothering to question whether her bravado was from the long nights or the drinks. Her eyes, light blue-touched green, searched around the hallway, idly and automatically taking stock of what halls lead where. Before her mind could turn to anything else, they were upon the stockade. It was certainly a prison, far removed from the few holding rooms she'd seen in her life and it was clearly built for detainment. She looked past Thomas as he ushered her into the cell, and after walking into the room immediately turned a quick half circle to take stock of her surroundings. What a dingy place, she felt looking at the hay and its accompanying raggedy cloth. It was a scornful appraisal, coming from someone who had ridden a horse three days full tilt before arriving at the castle. It was going to be home, for at least a few hours. She took off her jacket, and laid it upon the floor before sitting down on it. The blue shirt underneath was warm enough for the palace interior, and maybe wouldn't mark her as a courier in the future. The courier pulled her knees up to her chest to rest her head and close her eyes, and started the waiting.