" By then the man had returned and set the kettle among the embers. Then he looked up, paused, then picked up his share of the bread and reached over to put it in front of me.
“That’s yours,” I said.
“You appear to need it more than I do,” he said, looking amused. “Go ahead. I won’t starve.”
I picked up the bread, feeling a weird sense of unreality: Did he expect me to be grateful? The situation was so strange I simply had to turn it into absurdity--it was either that or sink into fear and apprehension. “Well, does it matter if I starve?” I said. “Or do Galdran’s torturers require only plump victims for their arts?”
The man had started to unload something from the saddlebag at his side, but he stopped and looked up with that contemplative gaze again, his broad-brimmed black hat just shadowing his eyes. “The situation has altered,” he said slowly. “You must perceive how your value has changed.”
His words, his tone--as if he expected an outbreak of hysterics--fired my indignation. Maybe my situation was desperate, and sooner than later I was going to be having nightmares about it--but not for the entertainment of some drawling Court-bred flunky.
“He’ll try to use me against my brother,” I said in my flattest voice.
“I rather suspect he will be successful. In the space of one day your brother and his adherents attacked our camp twice. It would appear they are not indifferent to your fate.”
I remembered then that he had said something about an attack earlier, but I’d scarcely comprehended what he meant. “Do you know who was killed?” I asked quickly.
The firelight played over his face. He watched me with a kind of narrow-eyed assessment impossible to interpret. “You know them all, don’t you,” he commented.
“Of course I do,” I said. “You don’t know who--or you just won’t tell me, for some rock-headed reason?”
He smiled. “Your determined bravado is a refreshment to the spirit. But if you know them all by name, then the loss of each is immeasurably greater. Why did you do it? Did you really think you could take a few hundred ill-trained village people into war and expect anything but defeat?”
I opened my mouth to retort, then realized I’d be spoiling what little strategy we did have.
But then he said wryly, “Or did you expect the rest of the kingdom to follow your heroic example and rise up against the King?”
Which is, of course, exactly what we had expected.
“So they sit like overfed fowl and watch Galdran Merindar break the Covenant by making secret pacts to sell our woods overseas?” I retorted.
He paused in the act of reaching for the camp jug. “Break the Covenant? How do you know about that? I don’t recall you’ve ever been to Court.”
Tell him about Azmus, and the intercepted letter, and have him send minions to make certain both disappeared? No chance. “I just know. That’s all you need to know. But even if it weren’t true, Debegri would still go up to take the County of Tlanth by force. Can’t any of you Court people see that if it happens to us, it can happen to you? Or are you too stupid?”
“Possibly,” he said, still with that dispassionate amusement. “It’s also possible your…somewhat misguided actions are inspired by misguided sources, shall we say?”
“Say what you want,” I retorted. “It’s not like I can duff off in a huff if you’re impolite.”
He laughed softly, then shook his head. “I ought not to bait you. I apologize. "

― Sherwood Smith , Crown Duel (Crown & Court, #1)