The Marshal was stony and still. So Liam could understand Dorothea now. He couldn't say he was surprised -- but he couldn't have chosen a worse time. He understood perfectly well that he was faced with Will's demand for answers, Liam's disbelief and Dorothea's accusations -- and that there was little hope of his ever being trusted again. But he owed this to them.

"The Queen's original plan had been to kill the princess in the attack on the caravan," he said solemnly as soon as there was quiet. "It would have sparked an immediate war with Verinia, according to her plan. I suggested an alternative."

Dorothea barely heard him; she was staring teary-eyed at Liam, overwhelmed by the fact that he appeared to have heard her voice. "Liam," she said softly -- but the Marshal's excuses drew her attention away. Knowing that Liam was at her side, she stood proudly and spoke in her accustomed, dignified voice. "An alternative that included the slaughter of Richard, Coren and Merril. My guardsmen. Your subordinates. They were murdered in the name of your alternative."

The Marshal cast a doubtful glance at Will, certain he hadn't understood anything the cat had said. "If there had been any way I could have prevented the deaths of Dorothea's guard, I --"

"You could have warned us." Dorothea's voice wavered, but only slightly.

The Marshal set his jaw, grave and forbidding. "The Queen knows I've betrayed her, and she knows where you are. I fear she'll make an attempt against the king in our absence --"

"If you're telling the truth," Dorothea interrupted him again, seething. "It's still on your head."

---

Raquelle had been grinning at the idea of making the Marshal suffer -- but her smile fell immediately upon being told to send her servants home. "What?" She stared at the mirror, unsure she had heard right. "You want me to travel all the way to the hollow? Alone? Without my servants?" This was laughable! How could she possibly be expected to ride alone in the darkest hours of the morning, swatting her own flies and preparing her own food, without someone there to fan her and accept beatings when she was in a mood? She wouldn't survive!

She pursed her lips, but she huffed through her nose and narrowed her eyes. "Fine. I will have my servants pack my horse and I'll send them back without me. I'll ride alone. Through the dangerous, scary, muddy woods. With the mosquitoes. For you, Mother. For revenge." She could have sobbed, but she dared not in front of the Queen.