Sherwood Smith Quote

The less said about that morning’s ride, the better. I would have been uncomfortable even if I’d been riding with Branaric, for my leg ached steadily from the jarring of the horse’s pace. To be riding along in the clasp of an enemy just made my spirits feel the worse.We only had one conversation, right at the start, when he apologized for the discomfort of the ride and reminded me that there would be a carriage--and reasonable comfort--before the day was gone.I said, in as surly a tone as possible, You might have thought of that before we left. I mean, since no one asked my opinion on the matter.It was purely an impulse of disinterested benevolence that precipitated our departure, he responded equably--as if I’d been as polite as one of his simpering Court ladies.What do you mean by that?I mean that it seemed very likely that your brother and his adherents were going to mount another rescue attempt, and this time there was no chance of our being taken by surprise.He paused, letting me figure that out. He meant the King’s warriors would have killed everyone, or else taken them all prisoner, and he had forestalled such a thing. Why he should want to prevent this opportunity to defeat all our people at once didn’t make sense to me; I kept quiet.He went on after a moment, Since the King requires a report on our progress, and as it seemed expedient to remove you, I decided to combine the two. It appears to have worked, at least for a time.Which meant he’d stalled Branaric--with what? Threats against my life if our people tried anything? The thought made me wild with anger, with a determination to escape so strong that for a time it took all my self-control not to fling myself from that horse and run, bad leg or no.For at last I faced the real truth: that by my own carelessness, I might very well have graveled our entire cause. I knew my brother. Branaric would not risk my life--and this man seemed to have figured that much out.The Marquis made a couple other attempts at conversation, but I ignored him. I have to confess that, for a short time, hot tears of rage and self-loathing stung my eyes and dripped down my face. I didn’t trust my voice; the only consolation I had for my eroding self-respect was that my face couldn’t be seen.When the tears had dried at last, and I had taken a surreptitious swipe at my nose and eyes with my sleeve, I gritted my teeth and turned my thoughts back to escape.