Link was almost ready to turn and walk out of the palace but was stopped by Peach's earnest plea. Although internally he was as tense as a spring he did his best not to show it: he honestly wasn't sure if Princess Peach, for all her skill in speech, would be able to phrase her concerns in a way that the Gerudo--and Impa especially--would be able to interpret as anything but an insult. And indeed she grew furiously stormy, her brows knitting together over eyepatch and her one intense orb.

"You imply that the great enemy," Impa bit out, "the traitor of all histories would be able to simply walk in... and take our princess from under our noses?" The fury in her voice was palpable and it was clearly shared by the guards to the sides of the walkway: they stiffened, clenched their weapons, creaked in their armor. Enmity echoed from all around them and Link stepped ever so slightly in front of Peach. His mind was racing: what could he accomplish with the few tools he'd thought to bring? His sword was strapped to his back, and his shield--could he reach them in time? Why had he left the rest of his gear with Epona? He cursed himself for his foolishness and turned one foot very slowly, very carefully outward. Ready to spring.

A long, stormy silence. And then: "Perhaps he has found some manner of conveyance that even our wards cannot stop." Impa spoke the words with obvious and intense distaste. "Although I don't believe it for a moment... perhaps you can coax her from her isolation. I know she has often spoken of wishing she had another princess to fraternize with." She turned abruptly on her heel and beckoned. "Come."

Link, and the guards to his sides, let out a sigh at once. The tension in the room had lessened... for now. Somehow Peach had done it.