"Lady Vera, is this something we should be doing in the road?" the King asked, standing now just behind his daughter.
Vera cut out what leather parts she'd deemed useful as the ruler's question hung in the air. The Princess watched her expectantly. Vera could hear the wagon drivers moving about. She set down the leather and took hold of Lady Cythia's arm again, looking up at the King as she did so.
"Yes, it is. We won't have another chance to stop until we find safe camp. Even in a wagon, she will be in extreme pain. Your daughter is a useless lump if she can not think or move properly."
The tell-tale sign of anger on the Princess' face was all Vera needed. A distraction from the task at hand. The White Rider forcefully set the Princess' bone back into place, giving no warning. Lady Cythia screamed and might have fallen over, had she not been propped up by the invisible force of her telekinesis. Vera felt badly that there had been nothing to make this easier. She could only be fast--bandaging the arm with splint as quickly as possible, making the double sling with such certainty as to suggest she had done this before. Many times. Maybe for herself. The King might have intervened, had she paused.
Finally, after a tense few minutes, Vera carefully let the Lady Cythia go.
"They are coming for us, your highness," she said to the King. Vera glanced at Eragos, but only briefly. "Not mercenaries or bandits. Not knights, not soldiers. These are different men. They will not rest until this treaty fails. I will not let that happen. We have to move now. And preferably along a less conventional route."