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Riure cocked her head, listening as someone took a seat and the prince made some comforting, sympathetic noises. She could imagine him wincing.

“When did you say this happened? You haven’t been gone that long.”

So then it was Princess Liorah who he was addressing. Probably.

“About… three or four hours, I guess,” she answered, clipped accent rising and falling softly. “I don’t know how long I slept. Time goes faster here, I think.”

“Those look at least a few days old,” Prince Gavril said, “It seems ‘Lord Castle’ is finally doing something helpful. Do they still hurt?”

Riure smiled. Ehud’s dubbing was catching on.

“Walking is alright, anything more hurts.”

Cloth slid. “I don’t have any new ones,” the prince said. Any new what? “But it’s not bleeding, so it should do. I know it’s futile to ask, but could you try to be careful?”

“I promise nothing.”

Riure stifled a laugh. The princess sounded like she was enjoying this.

“I didn’t expect you to.” Resigned.

Feet, booted by the sound of them, entered the room. From where? Riure took a few tentative steps forward. Sadiq moved with her.

“Where did you get that?” Princess Liorah asked, surprise coating her tone.

“End of the passage, it was on the ceiling.” Gwen. “I don’t know where it came from.”

“It?” Riure murmured. “What is ‘it’, Master Ziess?”

“A satchel,” he replied quietly.

Ah, that made sense. Well, about as much sense as the rest of this dream/adventure/thing. “Thanks,” Riure whispered, at the same time the princess said the word louder and limped away.

This time Riure raised her voice. ‘Where is she going?”

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