By Queen's Grace. Shari Anton

her outrage, Corwin spoke.

      “Best heed the warning, Lady Judith. ‘Twould be most uncomfortable for you, and bothersome for the rest of us to have you tied.”

      Did she hear an underlying message-that Corwin would find it harder to arrange an escape if her hands were tied? Or did she imagine it, wanting to believe he had her best interests at heart and not those of the rebels?

      “The next time I leave you, Thurkill, ‘twill be for good.” And with that, she headed for Thurkill’s horse.

      Oswuld stood there. He’d draped a blanket over the horse’s rump. “‘Tis not much, my lady, but may soften the ride.”

      His kindness touched her, especially since she’d caused him so much trouble. But she was the victim here and refused to treat any of her captors other than as villains. They might take any softening of her attitude as a sign of weakening her stance, and that she couldn’t do.

      “You have the right of it, Oswuld. ‘Tis not much. A horse of my own would be much appreciated.”

      “Then you might wish to assure my father you are resigned to making the whole of this journey, or he may judge you too untrustworthy to let you have your own mount.”

      “I will not change my mind about assisting this nefarious scheme. I have no desire to meet much less marry your lord.”

      “Resist as you will, my lady.” Oswuld glanced over at his father, who still conversed with Corwin. “Father will take you to our camp, willing or no. He has his orders and will see them through or.”