The Marshal noted the anger on Sam's face, and though his own expression was blank if not forbidding, he was glad for it. That distrust could keep her alive. Of anyone, this otherworlder was the most vulnerable, the most disposable, and the most dangerous to the Queen's plans.

And the Queen didn't know she existed.

The realization came over August gradually, in pieces of understanding. He stared at Sam as if she were the answer to a question he'd been asking for a thousand years. As far as the Queen knew, it was only Dorothea they had brought back through the mirror. The otherworlder wasn't meant to exist in these realms -- she could move anywhere without being missed or recognized. And she knew ... everything. Sam was, in effect, the most potent weapon against the Queen.

In these thoughts he was preoccupied, while the forest dimmed and the moon rose. There were so few leaves on the trees, and the moon and the crust of stars were so bright, that navigating their way back to the old fortress was nearly as easy as in the daylight.

The Jockal appeared to have gone: there was another trail of destruction leading away from the hollow, and no sound to indicate it was anywhere nearby.

The Marshal stepped ahead, and he opened the door for the Princess and the Otherworlder. Dorothea paused at the doorway, and she appeared to decide whether to attack the Marshal and run again. Even if she and Sam were able to subdue him to unconsciousness and take his sword, Dorothea could not expect Sam to wield the weapon, let alone protect them when (not if) the beasts of the forest attacked. If she were alone she could simply run and evade forever. She wouldn't leave Sam behind. Dorothea trotted elegantly through the door and into the fortress.

When Sam came to the door, August gave her an odd look -- not friendly, but thoughtful. He gestured for her to go in, and he followed, closing the door behind him.

He lit a few candles; a low yellow light cast flickering shadows on the wall.

The Marshal reached under a table and drew out a medium-sized animal cage. Dorothy balked. "You [i]cannot[/i] be serious," she snapped. "How many squirrels have died in that cage?" The Marshal only opened the door and glowered at her pointedly, until the princess sighed and stepped daintily into the cage. He locked the door behind her, and she turned around with her tail pressed against herself, careful not to touch any of the wire. The Marshal shoved a stick of jerky through to her, and she gave him the ugliest, most hateful look before she stooped to nibble at it.

Then he picked up one of the candles, and he peered at Sam. "Hide yourself under that table, beside the cabinet. Don't make a sound. You'll get something to eat once I've dealt with one more thing." The two guards were still in the dungeon -- he had to get rid of them while ensuring the Queen never knew Sam was here.

Dorothea slowed in her chewing, and she stared curiously across at Sam -- and especially the Marshal.