"Sam!" Dorothea scampered deftly among rushing soldiers' boots, and she hopped with delicate paws onto the back of a chair at Sam's elbow. "How are you feeling?" she asked with concern. "I'm sorry I had no idea you were sick. I hope I can make it up to you." She went on to explain Liam's blindness, Raquelle's banishment from the camp, and, with more delicate words, the Marshal's confinement. "He's not exactly a prisoner, but Liam and Will have good reason to require him to earn back their trust. We're heading back to my kingdom now, to wage war on Narissa. Furthermore --" she grinned, which looked rather frightening on a cat, "you look wonderful in a dress."

The princess hopped onto Sam's shoulder and sat tall and regal, surveying the bustle of her men, all of whom by now were aware of her identity. They paused in passing to nod respectfully to her, and she nodded back.

"Liam can understand me now," she said after awhile. "Whatever spell had been put on him, he broke it on his own. We'll win this, Sam. We'll win, and I'll keep my promise. You'll be home in no time."

Her ears flicked toward a commanding voice just outside the door. "The prince of Verinia will be accompanying us too." Dorothea didn't mind him much -- he was easy to ignore, but as a princess she had that luxury. "His name is Bryn, but he likes to be called Your Highness. Don't let him boss you around too much. Let me know if he gives you a hard time." She grinned again, a bit dangerously.

August assisted with the horses, said nothing, and looked at no one. He wasn't in the mood for questions, and the soldiers -- very experienced with his stoic expressions -- kept well away from him.

Jolly stood at the side of the house, filling bags full of food and canteens full of fresh water, and he nodded at every voice of thanks with the utmost humility.

When Bryn caught sight of Sam, he stopped Will with a hand on his chest, and he pointed. "Who is the peasant girl? She wasn't here when I arrived." Sam stood out like a sore thumb: the only female presence (Dorothea didn't actually count) in a crowd of uniformed men.

---

Raquelle opened her eyes blearily, and frowned. A fairy. She hated fairies. But the smoothness in Narissa's voice checked her own penchant for sarcasm, and she instead stood and smiled as sweetly as she could.

"I have," she said with a dutiful nod; her manners were on automatic, prim and proper. "You must excuse my appearance, I haven't had a moment to freshen up." She shot an accusing glare at Narissa, but returned her smile on Orin. "You are Prince Orin of the Unseelie Court, I presume." She was proud to have been paying attention when her mother had explained her allies. She would have to boast about it later. "It is an honor to meet you, Your Highness. To what do I owe the pleasure of our meeting?" Like the fairy, her smile never reached her eyes.