In the middle of the night, Raquelle sat up and peered through the darkness at Sam -- and she was still for a few moments as she decided whether the other girl was asleep. The only sound was the breeze in the trees outside.

Satisfied that she was the only one awake, Raquelle gathered her skirts and crept out of the tent. The fire had burned down to a dull glow and a wisp of smoke. No one was around. The princess tiptoed across to Liam's tent, careful not to wake anyone. She knelt beside the tent flap and peeked in.

Dorothea was curled up on Liam's bedroll, carefully out of his way but as close as she could be, as if to take comfort in his presence, fast asleep, her furry chest rising and falling. But Raquelle could care less about the cat at the moment.

Raquelle withdrew a vial of greenish liquid from her skirts, and she paused in consideration, her fingers on the stopper. She closed her eyes, took a breath, and pulled out the stopper. She found Liam's water skin near the tent flap, and she quickly tipped a few drops of the liquid into it. She gave it a quiet shake, replaced the cap and put it back exactly where she'd found it.

With a small smile she leaned back, replacing the stopper, and she dropped the vial back into a pocket in her skirt. As she stood and turned around to return to her own tent, she caught August's eye.

The Marshal was standing at the edge of the trees, watching her with a silent stare.

Raquelle gave him a pretty smile, knowing that he answered to her mother and he could not -- [i]would[/i] not say a word. Confidently, she crossed the rest of the way back to her own tent. She kicked off her shoes and laid down again to sleep deeply.