That first night, at midnight, Gwen hadn't been able to drop anything but a hastily scrawled note out her window for Rhosyn.

"Well," Gwen murmured quietly to herself, looking over the collection of things spread over her bedsheet, "I'm certainly making up for it tonight."

It had been harder than she'd thought, preparing for a one-way journey like this one. The first time she'd tried, she had ended up with a veritable mountain of things she'd wanted to bring with her. She'd included everything from riding outfits she had yet to grow into, all the way to a small collection of ceramic dolls that had once belonged to her mother, or so she'd been told.

When she had looked at the first pile of stuff, she soon realized that bringing everything she wanted would not be practical at all. She'd have to leave a great deal of things behind, things that were precious to her. It had taken several long hours for her to completely understand and accept what that meant.

Now, her collection of items consisted of three changes of plain, sturdy clothing, a cloak, two standard-issue daggers she'd 'borrowed' from the guard barracks, a large travel satchel, a small flint box, two waterskins, two heavy blankets, and a small wooden chest containing every necklace, bracelet, or potentially valuable piece of jewelry she'd ever been given. When properly rolled up and packed, everything fit snugly inside the travel satchel, and the whole thing looked as though it'd fit through her bedroom window without issue.

Gwen looked around her bedroom at all the items that hadn't ended up on the blanket. She knew it would be difficult saying goodbye to the rest of her things, some of which she'd never even dreamed she'd be parting with.

And things were about to get even more difficult.

She drew a deep, relaxing breath, glancing at her bedroom door apprehensively.

Tonight, she had to see how hard it would be to steal the herbs from her father's desk, and that meant sneaking down to her father's study and rooting around for them. Of course, what made this difficult was the fact that she was expressly forbidden from entering Bryn's study, and had been for years.

If she got caught, she might not get into too much trouble. She wouldn't be taking anything tonight, just verifying that there was indeed a leather pouch with a red cord sitting in her father's study desk. However, if she was seen snooping around the king's study, it would definitely rouse suspicion and make things harder for her later on.

Gwen just had to confirm she'd have access to the pouch, so she'd know she could fetch it when the time was right. And, if all went well tonight, that time might be as soon as tomorrow evening.

It all depended on her being able to get down to the study, verify everything she needed to know, get back up to her room, write a quick note, and then toss her bag of stuff outside the window, all of which had to be done by midnight if she was going to catch Rhosyn in time.

Which meant she only had about an hour left.

Gwen sighed. She'd stalled long enough.

She gave her bedroom door another nervous glance, gathered up her courage, and took a deep breath. Then she pulled her door open and ventured through it.

There was scant light illuminating the stairway, but Gwen found the darkness a little comforting. She'd prefer not to be seen at all, of course, but she knew it would be unavoidable once she got to the bottom of the stairs and into the main hallway. The castle staff she encountered might not think twice about seeing her roaming the hallways at this comparatively late hour though, since most of them hadn't been working there for more than a couple of months anyways. Still, a stray piece of servant gossip making its way to Anifail might be enough to undo her whole plan, so the fewer people she ran in to, the better.

Once at the bottom of the stairs, she peeked left and right down the hallway before proceeding into it, dark grey shawl wrapped to cover most of her light brown dressing gown. She had opted to go barefoot so she'd make less noise, and the cool stone of the floor made her want to shiver, despite the fact that the rest of her seemed unreasonably warm. Her stomach was a tight ball of worry, and her lungs felt like they weren't getting enough air.

Instead of heading straight to her father's study by way of the library hallway, Gwen opted for a less-traveled route near the inner courtyard garden, a trip that took her no more than a couple of minutes. Once there, she slipped through the courtyard door and into the blessedly dark, night air. Grass poked between her toes as she tip-toed across the lawn, heading for a similar entrance located clear on the other side.

Gwen arrived at the arched doorway, and suddenly became aware of voices coming from the hallway on the other side of it. She side-stepped into a shadow cast by a nearby bush and froze in place, heart pounding in her chest.

Two men, kitchen servants from the sound of it, walked the length of the hallway, discussing various tasks they'd be performing on the morrow. Gwen listened to them intently, tracking their progress down the hallway, past the courtyard door and beyond, alert for any sign they were aware of her.

Once she could no longer hear them, she waited for another minute or so, and then carefully opened the door in front of her and poked her head beyond it, looking from side to side.

Nobody there. So far, so good.

She quickly entered the hallway and hurried down it, heading towards the study entrance. Her bare feet made light 'pit-pat' noises against the floor, despite how quiet she was trying to be. There was nobody else in sight however, so perhaps speed was more important than stealth at this point.

Once in front of the study door, she took a few moments to gather herself and looked around for anyone who might have spotted her. Her heart was beating rather fast – half from the short run down the hall, and half from the risky nature of what she was in the middle of doing.

Satisfied there was nobody else around, she gripped the door handle with a tentative hand and twisted the knob slowly. Once she could no longer turn it, she pressed her other palm against the side of the door and began to push with agonizing slowness.

The well-oiled hinges didn't make a sound as the door opened. Gwen crept in, her eyes wide and alert, taking in as many details as she could.

His study had changed quite a lot since she'd last been in it. On her left there were now rows upon rows of animal heads and stuffed hawks mounted high up on the wall, as well as various different bows and spears mounted beneath them, each angled in a way that made their relationship with each animal fairly obvious. Far off to her right was a crackling fireplace, two high-backed chairs, a large throw-rug, a couple of end-tables, and a few landscape paintings dotting the walls here and there. Her father's desk was directly opposite her, along the far wall, sitting beside a bookshelf and a few other strange pieces of furniture she didn't recognize at first glance.

Gwen very carefully eased the door shut behind her, stopping it just before it completely closed. Then she breathed a quiet sigh of relief, which caused her to realize she'd been holding her breath.

Forcing herself to relax, she slowly walked across the rug-covered floor to her father's desk and crouched down beside his chair, directly in front of the drawer he'd described to Anifail that day in her room. Her hand reached out to wrap around the tarnished brass handle.

"Wave Dancer," she heard her father's voice announce in a loud, clear voice, as if having arrived at a decision.

Gwen froze, heart in her throat, her hand mere inches from the drawer handle.

"Seriously?" Anifail's voice replied, giving a good-natured snort of derision. "If you like that one, why not 'Queen of the Sea'? Or even 'Floating Cliche'?"

"Come on, it's not that bad a name for a boat," her father laughed, slurring his words the tiniest bit.

Within moments Gwen understood, and it was like forgetting how to breathe.

They were both in the study. With her.

Anifail and her father were both sitting not fifteen feet away from her in their high-backed chairs, facing the fireplace.

She'd never considered they might be in the study this late, and hadn't even thought to check.

Panicking, Gwen scrambled past the chair and underneath the desk, hoping the shadowy recess would hide her well enough not to be discovered. After a moment's thought, she also grabbed the desk chair by its legs and carefully pulled it towards her for extra cover. Then she curled herself into as tight a ball as she could and huddled into her corner, trying to stay as quiet as possible.

There were no sounds at all for several minutes, save for the gentle popping of burning wood from the fireplace. Each passing second seemed to multiply Gwen's anxiousness.

"Where did I go wrong, Anifail?" Bryn asked in a quiet, wistful voice.

"Sorry?"

"With Gwenwyn, I mean. What should I have done differently? Could I have done anything differently? She's so willful, and with everything else I'm trying to arrange, having to deal with her all the time is... it's frustrating."

There was a lengthy pause. A bit mystified, Gwen tilted her head slightly so she might hear better.

"Honestly, I don't think you could have done anything differently. You were consistent, and you were firm. Disciplining her yourself was dangerous, and yet you managed to bring her to heel often enough, willful or no. I've known fathers who aren't a tenth of the man you are, and yet they can make their own children quake in fear with nothing more than a look, or a gesture. I suspect the fault lies with her." Gwen heard Anifail exhale through his nose and take a long drink of something. "I share your pain, though; it's frustrating for me as well. Every day, I get the same old cheek, like she thinks it's some sort of game. It's as if she's always just sort of assumed she could talk to me like I was some sort of servant. Nobody talks to me like she does, nobody."

"I know, I know. She's got too much of her mother in her, unfortunately, and I'm sure you remember what she was like," said Bryn, pausing long enough to take a drink of his own. "You'll have your chance to level things out on that score eventually, never you fear."

Gwen didn't like the sound of that one bit.

Anifail snorted. "It can't happen soon enough. Still, it's only a couple of weeks away. It seems like it's taken us forever to get here."

"Aye," said Bryn. "It's been a long road, but we're almost there, Captain."

"To Prince Gavin of Rhegar," said Anifail.

"To my future son-in-law. May he rest in peace," agreed Bryn.

Gwen heard the soft clink of two glasses touching.

For the next five minutes or so there was no conversation from either of them, no sound at all except for the occasional crackle from the fire. Still huddled under the desk, Gwen realized a few things about her predicament.

She'd left the study door open a crack, which meant she'd have to leave while both Anifail and her father were still in the room. If they moved to leave and discovered a partially opened door, their suspicions would surely be roused.

There was also a time limit – she needed to get out of the study and back to her room in time to drop her travel gear, along with a note. And she couldn't very well do that without first checking the drawer for that bag of chi'darro, which was the whole reason why she'd come down here in the first place.

She sat there, curled up in a tight little ball under the desk, waiting, becoming more anxious with every passing moment. Eventually she realized that regardless of how frightening the prospect was, she needed to do something.

Well, there was the drawer. Gwen was still mostly hidden from view where she was huddled, but she could probably get the bottom drawer open without making too much noise. She'd open it, check for the leather pouch her father mentioned, and then close it, all as slowly and carefully as possible.

Gwen reached out from her shadowy alcove and laid a few tentative fingers atop the edge of the drawer. Then, just as she was about to slide the drawer open, she realized it might be a better idea to wait until Anifail or her father was talking, so that their conversation would mask any noise she might accidentally make.

Hand poised and ready, resting along the side of the drawer, she waited for her moment.

Minutes passed.

"Say, did you ever hear from that fellow about the bunting for the inside balconies? Weren't we–"

Gwen pushed the drawer open, quietly, only half-listening to the words her father was saying. Once she'd opened it a hands-breadth, she leaned forward to peek inside.

A dark brown leather pouch tied off with red cord was sitting inside, atop some papers and old inkwells. It was about the size of her fist and looked to be fairly full, which meant it was probably more than enough to sustain her during her trip.

Her father was still talking, she noticed, so she slid the drawer shut, an action that produced the barest whisper of wood sliding against wood. As soon as it was done, she pulled her hand back.

The sound of her father's voice cut off the precise moment she did so.

Had he seen her hand just now, or heard the drawer close? It sort of sounded like her father finished his last sentence, but Gwen hadn't really been listening to what he was saying.

She sat there amid the painful silence, anxiously waiting for the next words to be spoken.

"Oh, do you mean the fellow with that green and yellow fabric? Or are you talking about the one from out of town?" Anifail asked. Gwen heard him move in his chair, and could also make out the shuffling of papers. "I think we might be further ahead to go with the local fellow, for obvious reasons."

She allowed herself a quiet breath, relieved.

"True, we can always tax him later, which is almost like getting a discount," Bryn agreed. "However, I'm not sure I liked the pattern as much. What if we–"

Gwen didn't even stop to think; she knew this was her moment. As her father spoke, she pushed the chair away from her with agonizing slowness, and then scooted around it on all fours, alert for any sort of sound she might be making as she did. Then she slowly got to her feet and tiptoed out from under the desk, making her way over to the study door, her eyes locked on the two high-backed chairs next to the fireplace. She could make out her father's hand resting on a chair arm, idly swirling the pink-amber contents of a brandy snifter as he spoke.

She was two feet from the door by the time he'd stopped talking, and the sudden absence of noise caused her to freeze in her tracks, mid-tiptoe.

Her eyes were still focused on the two chairs by the fireplace. Though both men were hidden from view, she saw her father's hand still atop his armrest, swirling the drink it held in an idle, unconcerned manner.

"I suppose that would work," Anifail eventually replied. There was the sound of more papers being shuffled. "Really though, I'd prefer–"

Gwen took another two steps, grabbed the handle in front of her, and gently swung the door open about a foot or so. Then, holding her breath, she slipped out into the hallway and quietly closed the door behind her in one careful, fluid motion.

There was a soft 'click' as the door fully closed.

She quickly glanced up and down the hallway, and, seeing nobody at all, breathed a thankful sigh. She then tore down the hallway and back out to the garden, her pulse racing, an excited smile on her face. Cool evening air greeted her, and soon she was running in darkness, blades of grass once more poking between her toes, feeling positively giddy with both excitement and relief.

She'd done it! She'd sneaked into the study, and with her father and Anifail still in it no less! If she had the nerve required to pull something like that off, actually stealing the pouch and making off with it when they weren't there might be a piece of cake!

Tomorrow. She'd do it tomorrow night, perhaps an hour after midnight.

That meant getting back to her room and smuggling her stuff out the window tonight, so Rhosyn could get everything ready. She'd write a quick note as well, so Rhosyn would know precisely when, and had enough time to prepare the horses. Once she stole the pouch and made her way outside she was pretty sure she'd want to put as much distance between herself and this place as she could, and as quickly as possible.

Once Gwen had crossed the courtyard garden and made her way back to more familiar surroundings, she opted to locate an empty water jug and fill it. That way, she reasoned, if she was seen returning to her room now, she might have something to explain why she was out of bed at that hour. Come to think of it, the water jug might help with tomorrow night's activities as well, allowing her to claim she'd become thirsty in the middle of the night and had come down for a drink. She could come downstairs from her bedroom with the jug, and then she'd simply never return.

The very thought of it made her so happy, she was near tears.

Water jug in hand, Gwen practically flew up her tower stairs, burst through her bedroom door, closed it behind her, and did a spontaneous dance of happiness. Her heart was still pounding from the excitement of everything, and it felt like the smile on her face would never be leaving.

Her eyes fell upon the bundle on her bed. What time was it, anyway? It had to be pretty close to midnight by now. Maybe a little past, actually. She'd completely lost track of time, hiding under the desk like she had been.

Gwen hurried over to her desk and got out her box of inks and quills. She tore a page out of the book she practiced her writing in, dipped a quill in the ink, and scrawled a hasty note.

Everything's set. Tomorrow night, an hour past midnight. Meet you at the stables. –G

She quickly dabbed the excess ink away with a blotter and then blew on the parchment, willing it to dry. Once she'd figured her writing wouldn't smudge, she folded the paper in half, went to her bed, and tucked it into her travel satchel on top of all the other things she'd already stuffed in there.

Bundle in hand, she went to her window and leaned forward, looking for some sign of Rhosyn. The moon was out, and she could see reflected bits of moonlight dancing off of the rippling water of the moat, but the grassy area directly below her was too dark to see anything.

Was Rhosyn even down there?

Gwen considered for a few moments, then hoisted her bundle up to the window and pushed it out. Once that was done, she leaned back outside to see if she could catch a glimpse of it as it fell.

The pack was a light beige colour, which made it a little easier to spot, thanks to the moonlight. She watched it silently tumble away from her and into the darkness below. A moment later, she heard the faint 'whump' of something soft hitting the grassy ground next to the moat.

Gwen didn't have to peer into the darkness for very long before spotting some activity, for it wasn't long before she could make out a figure in a familiar light cloak pulling away from a nearby section of wall and hurrying over to where her bundle lay. Within moments both the cloaked figure and her travel satchel were gone, nowhere to be seen.

Tomorrow, then. It was really, really going to happen!

She practically sprinted over to her bed and dove in, hastily blew out her night lamp, closed her eyes tightly and covered herself with her sheets. All of a sudden, Gwen couldn't think of anything in the world she wanted more than for tomorrow to hurry up and arrive.