August didn't bother looking up to know whom she was talking about. "That's Princess Raquelle," he said in a flat voice. "Narissa's daughter and Dorothea's half-sister. I don't know how much she knows -- we should probably keep an eye on her." He hadn't expected Raquelle to be among Liam's party, but he supposed it made sense -- especially if she was aware of her mother's goals. He doubted Raquelle had been trusted to play any important part in Narissa's goals, however -- the princess was far too flighty. "Part of getting Dorothea out of the way was to force Liam to marry Raquelle, thus giving Narissa a direct line of power to both Eldonia and Itelia. Raquelle herself is notoriously lacking in just about every social skill."

"Oh, Liam!" Raquelle was halfway standing up in her side-saddle, precariously balanced among her flowing skirts, and she pointed into the woods. "There's a path just there -- do you see it? I spotted it not five minutes ago, just there by that knotty old tree. I think I see wagon ruts. That means there must be some kind of dwelling on the other end of that path, right? The wagons have to go [i]somewhere[/i]." She smiled, extremely proud of her logic, and she bit her knuckle in excitement. "Maybe there's an inn! Oh, let's go down that little road for awhile, and see if someone there will give us beds and hot soup. You look weary and irritable, dear Liam, you could use a better rest than a tent could afford you." She brought her horse close to Liam's, and she leaned forward to look into his face worriedly, while Dorothea stiffened and contemplated how many times she could sink her claws into Raquelle's pretty face before Liam could stop her.