She was going to trust him? August gave Sam an uncertain look, waiting for the catch, waiting for her to declare the terms under which he might be allowed to keep his hands free. When no stipulation came, his expression turned solemn. Damn her. She [i]trusted[/i] him just when he planned to betray her. His gut wrenched; he sneered and looked away.

The forest was dappled with sunlight and thick with quivering green and warbling birds. A creek gurgled nearby. Nowhere was there a sign that anything dangerous could possibly jump out of the shadows -- but the trees themselves sometimes ate passersby out of boredom. August glanced in the direction of the King's Road, where he knew Liam and his parade were clanking on their way to the capital. Straight ahead, through a small clearing and past a darker part of the forest, would be the farm the dwarves had been leading them to. Horses.

August took a slow breath, frowned in decision, and set off purposefully through the brush. "This way," he commanded gruffly, falling into old habits now that he was in the lead.

Dorothea jumped onto a low branch, and then dropped onto Sam's shoulder, shifting warily. "Sam..." she said hesitantly, quietly. "You know something about him that you're not telling me." She was very aware of the weakness of her form, and she was genuinely afraid. "Please, Sam. The queen would see you dead. He could kill you here and take me, too easily, so why?" Her voice shuddered. "I feel as if we're following him to our graves."

August reached into his pocket and wrapped his fingers around the small mirror there; he glanced up at the sky now and then, looking for ravens. It would be [i]inconvenient[/i] if the queen found him here, at a time it would be difficult to explain what, exactly, he was doing.