Sherwood Smith Quotes

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When in doubt, be ridiculous.
Sherwood Smith (Firebirds: An Anthology of Original Fantasy and Science Fiction)
The only noise now was the rain, pattering softly with the magnificent indifference of nature for the tangled passions of humans.
Sherwood Smith
You, there, girl! Halt!" Who in the universe ever halts when the enemy tells them to?
Sherwood Smith (Crown Duel (Crown & Court, #1-2))
Finally someone takes me seriously enough to ask for my word of honor, and it’s a villain.
Sherwood Smith (Remalna's Children (Crown's Court, #2.5))
Except. What is normal at any given time? We change just as the seasons change, and each spring brings new growth. So nothing is ever quite the same.
Sherwood Smith (Crown Duel (Crown & Court, #1-2))
Memory warps time, as it does the sights and sounds and smells of reality; for what shapes it is emotion, which can twist what seems clear, just as the surface of a pond seems to bend the stick thrust into the water.
Sherwood Smith (Crown Duel (Crown & Court, #1))
Why is it the songs all end with the good people winning, but in life they don't?" They don't make songs when the good lose," I muttered. "They make war chants against the bad. So there won't be any songs for us.
Sherwood Smith (Crown Duel (Crown & Court, #1-2))
Angry men with pointy things sent to secure a foreign city are pretty much alike anywhere. That's what I've heard. So far nothing's convinced me different.
Sherwood Smith (King's Shield (Inda, #3))
So let me end with the wish that you find the same kind of happyiness, and laughter, and love, that I have found, and that you have the wisdon to make them last.
Sherwood Smith (Court Duel (Crown & Court, #2))
Everyone is an idiot," I stated. "Except me.
Sherwood Smith (The Trouble with Kings)
Because you showed one face to all the rest of the world, and another to me.
Sherwood Smith (Crown Duel (Crown & Court, #1-2))
When people first discover beauty, they tend to linger. Even if they don’t at first recognize it for what it is.
Sherwood Smith
A wager?" I repeated. "Yes," he said, and gave me a slow smile, bright with challenge. ... "Stake?" I asked cautiously. He was still smiling, an odd sort of smile, hard to define. "A kiss." My first reaction was outrage, but then I remembered that I was on my way to Court, and that had to be the kind of thing they did at Court. And if I win I don't have to collect. I hesitated only a moment longer, lured by the thought of open sky, and speed, and winning. "Done," I said.
Sherwood Smith (Crown Duel (Crown & Court, #1-2))
No, I don't think I could fall in love with him, handsome though he is, because I don't accept any of that huff he gives me about my great beauty and all that. I'd have to trust a man's words before I could love him. I think.
Sherwood Smith (Court Duel (Crown & Court, #2))
Despite how entertaining certain stories were, at the bottom of every item of gossip there was someone getting hurt.
Sherwood Smith (Crown Duel (Crown & Court, #1))
It would have been funny if I had been an observer and not a participant, an idea that gave me a disconcerting insight into gossip. As I walked beside the silent Tamara, I realized that despite how entertaining certain stories were, at the bottom of every item of gossip there was someone getting hurt.
Sherwood Smith (Court Duel (Crown & Court, #2))
One doesn't lose a self, like a pair of gloves or a pine. We learn and change, or we harden into stone.
Sherwood Smith (Crown Duel (Crown & Court, #1-2))
If more people recognized the difference between friendship and mere attraction, or how love must partake of both to prosper, I expect there'd be more happy people." "And a lot fewer poems and plays," I said, laughing as I splashed about in the scented water.
Sherwood Smith
They're safe,'' he said. "And you're not made of glass". He swept me up in his arms. I laughed. "And I'm not made of glass." He carried me into our room and kicked the door shut behind us.
Sherwood Smith (Court Duel (Crown & Court, #2))
If more people recognized the difference between friendship and mere attraction, and how love must partake of both to prosper, I expect there'd be more happy people.
Sherwood Smith (Crown Duel (Crown & Court, #1-2))
It desolates me to disappoint you, but your brother is not here. Despite two really praiseworthy attempts at rescue." ... The hint of amusement irritated me, and sick and hurt as I was, I simply had to retort something. "Glad... at least... you're desolated.
Sherwood Smith (Crown Duel (Crown & Court, #1-2))
Why did I laugh at his sorry, bedraggled appearance? Because ridiculousness made a repellant situation more bearable.
Sherwood Smith (The Trouble with Kings)
The more one has, the less one desires.
Sherwood Smith (Crown Duel (Crown & Court, #1-2))
We'll abduct Garian. Or Jason." "And—?" "And dump them into the ocean. Nobody would ever pay a ransom for them.
Sherwood Smith (The Trouble with Kings)
A horse blanket, Mel? I remembered what I was wearing. 'It tore in half when Hrani tried washing it. She was going to mend it. This piece was too small for a horse, but it was just right for me.' Bran laughed a little unsteadly. 'Mel. A horse blanket.
Sherwood Smith (Crown Duel (Crown & Court, #1-2))
If your opponent is better armed and has longer reach, then surprise is your only ally. And then you'd better hope he's half asleep.
Sherwood Smith (Crown Duel (Crown & Court, #1-2))
Some of it was wrong decisions made for the right reasons, and a little of it was right decisions made for the wrong reasons; but most of what I did was wrong decisions for the wrong reasons.
Sherwood Smith (Crown Duel (Crown & Court, #1-2))
I had seen ardency in men's eyes, but I had only felt it once. With Flauvic, false and therefore easy to dismiss. I suddenly wished that I could feel it now. No, I did feel it. I did have the same feeling, only I had masked it as restlessness, or as the exhortation to action, or as anger. I thought how wonderful it would be to see that spark now, in the right pair of eyes.
Sherwood Smith (Crown Duel (Crown & Court, #1-2))
But I'd also learned that the self might want one thing, but that didn't mean it was right.
Sherwood Smith (Crown Duel (Crown & Court, #1-2))
War is a convenient fix for government problems if it happens somewhere else. To other people.
Sherwood Smith (Treason's Shore (Inda, #4))
No, my career as a warrior princess, short as it had been, was over, I thought morosely. Violence only works if you're good at it. Otherwise, it hurts too much.
Sherwood Smith (The Trouble with Kings)
It is a shame when we must regard a people as an enemy. It is a shame and a regret when the two peoples share so much. And it is a shame, a regret, and a tragedy when those peoples meet as individuals and find much to admire.
Sherwood Smith (King's Shield (Inda, #3))
You don't look at the problem all at once, or it's like being caught in a spring flood under a downpour. You tackle the problem in pieces...
Sherwood Smith (Crown Duel (Crown & Court, #1-2))
Judging the actions of the many by those of the one is both human and dangerous.
Sherwood Smith (The Fox (Inda, #2))
I endeavor to be serious and you will not take me seriously
Sherwood Smith (A Stranger to Command (Crown & Court, #0.5))
I've been working hard at assuming Court polish, but the more I learn about what really goes on behind the pretty voices and waving fans and graceful bows, the more I comprehend that what is really said matters little, so long as the manner in which it is said pleases. I understand it, but I don't like it. Were I truly influential, then I would halt this foolishness that decrees that in Court one cannot be sick; that to admit you are sick is really to admit to political or social or romantic defeat; that to admit to any emotions usually means one really feels the opposite. It is a terrible kind of falsehood that people can only claim feelings as a kind of social weapon.
Sherwood Smith (Court Duel (Crown & Court, #2))
What might have happened to them to make them the way they were? It did not change what they now did, but it changed, profoundly, how he perceived their motivations, their place in the world.
Sherwood Smith (The Fox (Inda, #2))
Who can ever know what turns the spark into flame? Vidanric's initial interest in me might well have been kindled by the fact that he saw my actions as courageous, but the subsequent discovery of passion, and the companionship of the mind that would sutain it, seemed as full of mystery as it was of felicity. As for me, I really believe that the spark had been there all along, but I had been too ignorant--and too afraid--to recognize it.
Sherwood Smith (Crown Duel (Crown & Court, #1-2))
He’d spent his entire exile schooling himself to face that he would never get what he wanted. People didn’t, sometimes. So you made a life as best you could.
Sherwood Smith (King's Shield (Inda, #3))
I am old, but the word to me means familiar, comfortable. Accustomed after long and venerable use. Not dilapidated and useless.
Sherwood Smith (Treason's Shore (Inda, #4))
I feel stupid when people say ‘You? You are so brave,’ because I don’t feel brave, I don’t even know what brave is.
Sherwood Smith (Treason's Shore (Inda, #4))
One thing I still remembered from my war days was how to move in shrubbery.
Sherwood Smith (Court Duel (Crown & Court, #2))
What if feeling good only comes after you destroy someone you hate?' 'That's not good, that's triumph,
Sherwood Smith (Remalna's Children (Crown's Court, #2.5))
Are they trained to treat everyone as a servant?' 'Probably. That doesn't make you into one,
Sherwood Smith (Remalna's Children (Crown's Court, #2.5))
What's it really like to always be the prettiest person in a room? Dos it mean you're always acting as if in a play, because no one stops looking at you?' 'Life is a play, isn't it?
Sherwood Smith (Remalna's Children (Crown's Court, #2.5))
Jaim says that the essence of command is to turn surprises to your favor. You get your perimeter outside the enemy’s perimeter, and attack.” “What does that mean, exactly?” “Oh, I don’t know, some kind of military jabber. I was hoping you knew.
Sherwood Smith (The Trouble with Kings)
As soon as we’re born, we become a part of patterns, the intimate ones we create with those we live among, and the patterns so large that it takes a lifetime to perceive a fragment of the possibilities.
Sherwood Smith (Banner of the Damned)
It is time,' he said, 'to collect on my wager.' He moved slowly. First, his hands sliding round me and cool light-colored hair drifting against my cheek, and then softly, so softly, the brush of lips against my brow, my eyes, and then my lips. Once, twice, thrice, but not closer. The sensations - like starfire - that glowed through me chased away from my head all thoughts save one, to close that last distance between us. I locked my fingers round his neck and pulled his face again down to mine.
Sherwood Smith (Court Duel (Crown & Court, #2))
Love is one of the simplest of what we call the Mysteries, and yet the strongest, like air: the greatest treasure cannot buy it nor the smartest thief steal it nor the most powerful emperor command it. And like air, it freely fills to infinity whatever is open to it.
Sherwood Smith (Lhind the Spy (Lhind, #2))
Who in the universe halts when the enemy tells them to?
Sherwood Smith (Crown Duel (Crown & Court, #1-2))
But I will never ask anyone from our village-from any village in Tlanth-to risk his or her life unless I'm willing to myself.
Sherwood Smith (Crown Duel (Crown & Court, #1-2))
Maybe I'm no longer a dog, but I can still bite!
Sherwood Smith (Wren to the Rescue (Wren, #1))
He said the proclivities for indulging in gossip stems from the same impulse as the reading of novels, only gossip touches on real people. Therein lies the harm.
Sherwood Smith (Danse de la Folie)
At the best of times I don’t have the kind of voice anyone would want to hear mangling their favorite songs.
Sherwood Smith (Court Duel (Crown & Court, #2))
though we can educate the younger generation, we can even command them, we cannot control their lives, much as we think we’d do a better job of it.
Sherwood Smith (Treason's Shore (Inda, #4))
Choose the duty that you can most effectively execute: that is, finally, all we can do in life.
Sherwood Smith (A Stranger to Command (Crown & Court, #0.5))
When you love something enough time races ahead like the wind chasing autumn leaves, sending them skipping and dancing out of reach, no matter how fast you run. But when you want something and must wait to get it, time stops
Sherwood Smith (Inda (Inda, #1))
For the first time, I comprehended that love, at least for me, had nothing to do with sex.
Sherwood Smith (Banner of the Damned)
You will like Court life, I promise,” she said, smiling sweetly as we went out of the parlor. I took care to walk behind her so she could not see my face.
Sherwood Smith (Court Duel (Crown & Court, #2))
If everywhere you go everyone watches you, and wants you, can you truly be yourself?
Sherwood Smith (Remalna's Children (Crown's Court, #2.5))
Montrose tasted the coffee. No bitterness, a blend of several beans--some of which had been grown precisely the same way for over a thousand years--and just the right temperature. If pressed, he could name the chemical makeup of the coffee and the reaction of the human body to the brew. Yet there was still an almost mystical sense of well-being that few things imparted just by smell, taste, and warmth, and coffee was one.
Sherwood Smith (The Rifter's Covenant (Exordium, #4))
Dun came to realize that a man whose entire purpose for living is to command a war will not want to spend his life waiting for its possibility. He was going to have one, and he was going to see to it—after all, it made military sense—that he would have it on his own terms, the ones with which he expected to win
Sherwood Smith (Inda (Inda, #1))
Act'. How many good people do you really know? I discount those who mouth out platitudes for the edification of the young, and who truly are 'good', whatever that means?" What a strange subject, and from such a strange person!"Everyone I know is a mixture, some with more good than bad, and it varies on different days,
Sherwood Smith (Remalna's Children (Crown's Court, #2.5))
The man came around, set a cup down by my hand. “Are you very uncomfortable?” “Does it matter?” I said, and wrapped my chilled hands around the cup--which was not of the battered metal I’d expected, but very fine ceramic. Exquisite gilding ran round the lip, a stylized braid of argan leaves. “Whether it does or not, you shall have a better conveyance on the morrow,” he said. “Drink your tea and sleep. We shall continue our discourse when you have had some rest.” I couldn’t resist one more crack. “Is that a promise or a threat?” He just smiled.
Sherwood Smith (Crown Duel (Crown & Court, #1))
Interest in alchemy seems to be nowadays on the rise. Whereas the educated public at large remains no doubt skeptical and indeed disdainful of the ancient discipline, there is today a deepening awareness among the better informed that what stands behind many an “exploded superstition” may be in fact a long-forgotten wisdom. Although Carl Jung was obviously exaggerating when ! he suggested that four centuries after being expelled from our universities,- alchemy stands “knocking at the door,” a number of factors have conspired; to render the prospect of re-admission less remote, at least, than it had been ; during the heyday of materialism. In any case, no truly solid grounds for rejecting the ancient doctrine have yet been proposed. Take the case of the so-called four elements: earth, water, air and fire. One can be reasonably certain that these terms were not employed alchemically in their ordinary sense, but were used to designate elements, precisely, out of which substances, as we know them, are constituted. Somewhat like the quarks of modern physics, these elements are not found empirically in isolation, but occur in their multiple combinations, that is to say, as the perceptible substances that constitute what I term the corporeal domain. Now, as I have argued at length in The Quantum Enigma (Peru, Illinois: Sherwood Sugden, 1995), corporeal objects are not in fact mere aggregates of quantum particles; and this clearly suggests that there may indeed be elements of the aforesaid kind. It turns out that our habitual opposition to alchemy is based mainly upon scientistic prejudice: upon a reductionist dogma, namely, for which there is in reality no scientific support at all.
Wolfgang Smith (The Wisdom of Ancient Cosmology: Contemporary Science in Light of Tradition)
You're drunk as four skunks, you idiot.
Sherwood Smith (Crown Duel (Crown & Court, #1-2))
Marec was waiting in Shevraeth’s tiny room. Shevraeth shut the door, and Marec dropped down onto the bed, snickering hoarsely in an effort to keep from being overheard by the boys. “You were terrifying.” Shevraeth looked at him in surprise. “I was? I meant to be reasonable.” “Sometimes reasonable is frightening,” Marec said, still snickering.
Sherwood Smith (A Stranger to Command (Crown & Court, #0.5))
The Prince’s dark eyes narrowed with amusement, though his mouth stayed solemn--I knew I’d seen that expression before. “Please. You have only to ask.” “I don’t want a thing. It was more a question, and that is: If you can eat like this every day, why aren’t you fatter than five oxen?” Bran set his goblet down, his eyes wide. “Burn it, Mel, I was just thinking the very same!
Sherwood Smith (Crown Duel (Crown & Court, #1))
If you’re rebelling, then you must have someone in mind for the throne. Who?” Bran pointed across the table at Shevraeth. “He seems to want to do it, and I have to say, he’d be better at it than I.” “No, he wouldn’t,” I said without thinking. Bran winced and rubbed his chin. “Mel…” “Please, my dear Lord Branaric,” the Prince murmured. “Permit the lady to speak. I am interested to hear her thoughts on the matter.” Rude as I’d been before, my response had shocked even me, and I hadn’t intended to say anything more. Now I sneaked a peek at the Marquis, who just sat with his goblet in his fingers, his expression one of mild questioning.
Sherwood Smith (Crown Duel (Crown & Court, #1))
Not one of the passerby showed the least interest in the proceedings. I wondered if I had missed yet another chance at escape, but if I did yell for help, who knew what the partisanship of the Lumm merchants was? I might very well have gotten my mouth gagged for my pains. This did not help my spirits any, for now that the immediate discomforts had eased, I realized again that I was sick. How could I effect an escape when I had as much spunk as a pot of overboiled noodles?
Sherwood Smith (Crown Duel (Crown & Court, #1))
But after a time even my temper tantrums have to give way to rational thought, and I faced at last what ought to have been obvious from the very beginning: We’d lost because we were ignorant. And of the two of us, I was the worse off, because I hadn’t even known I was ignorant.
Sherwood Smith (Crown Duel (Crown & Court, #1))
What have you to say now, my little hero?” the Baron gloated. “That you are a fool, the son of a fool, and the servant of the biggest--
Sherwood Smith (Crown Duel (Crown & Court, #1))
The others conversed little, and at the end of the meal I looked up, saw the unmistakable marks of fever in their faces. Branaric grinned. “What a trio we make! Look at us.” Annoyance flared anew. Glaring at him, I said hoarsely, “Look at yourself. I’d rather spare myself the nightmare, which would affright even a half-sighted gargoyle.” Bran gaped at me in surprise, then laughed. “Just keep that temper sharp. You’ll need it, for we may be on the march tomorrow.” “Oh, good,” I croaked with as much enthusiasm as I could muster. It sounded about as false as it felt, and Bran laughed again; but before he could say anything, the Marquis suggested that we all retire, for the morrow promised to be a long day.
Sherwood Smith (Crown Duel (Crown & Court, #1))
You, there, girl! Halt!” Who in the universe ever halts when the enemy tells them to? Of course I took off in the opposite direction, as fast as I could.
Sherwood Smith (Crown Duel (Crown & Court, #1))
There’s no use in talking about the plan, because of course nothing went the way it was supposed to.
Sherwood Smith (Crown Duel (Crown & Court, #1))
I just wanted to see if you traitors would dare to face me,” Galdran said, his caustic voice making me feel sick inside. Sick--and angry. The Marquis bowed low over his horse’s withers, every line of his body indicative of irony. Galdran’s face flushed dark purple. “I confess,” Shevraeth drawled, “we had a small wager on whether you would have the courage to face us.
Sherwood Smith (Crown Duel (Crown & Court, #1))
Speaking of busy, what make you of this?” I held out the letter. Oria took it and frowned slightly as she read. When she reached the end, she said, “It seems straightforward enough, except…Merindar. Isn’t she some relation to the old king?” “Sister,” I said. “The Marquise of Merindar.” “Isn’t she a princess?” “While they ruled, the Merindars only gave the title ‘prince’ or ‘princess’ to their chosen heir. She carried the family title, which predates their years on the throne.” Oria nodded, pursing her lips. “So what does this mean?” “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. I did help bring about the downfall of her brother. I think a nasty letter threatening vengeance, awful as it would be to get, would be more understandable than this.” Oria smiled. “Seems honest enough. She wants to meet you.” “But why? And why now? And what’s this about ‘guidance’?” Oria looked back at the letter, her dark brows slightly furrowed, then whistled softly. “I missed that, first time through. What do you think she’s hinting at, that she thinks the new king ought not to be king?” “That is the second thing I’ve been wondering about,” I said. “If she’d make a good ruler, then she ought to be supported…” “Well, would she?” “I don’t know anything about her.” Oria handed the letter back, and she gave me a crooked grin. “Do you want to support her bid for the crown, or do you just want to see the Marquis of Shevraeth defeated?” “That’s the third thing on my mind,” I said. “I have to admit that part of me--the part that still rankles at my defeat last year--wants him to be a bad king. But that’s not being fair to the country. If he’s good, then he should be king. This concerns all the people of Remalna, their safety and well-being, and not just the feelings of one sour countess.” “Who can you ask, then?” “I don’t know. The people who would know her best are all at Court, and I wouldn’t trust any of them as far as I could throw this castle.
Sherwood Smith (Court Duel (Crown & Court, #2))
Out of the first carriage stepped Bran, his hair loose and shining under a rakish plumed hat. He was dressed in a magnificent tunic and glossy high blackweave riding boots, with a lined cloak slung over one shoulder. He grinned at me--then he turned and, with a gesture of practiced grace that made me blink, handed out a lady. A lady? I gawked in dismay at the impressive hat and muffling cloak that spanned a broad skirt, and looked down at myself, in an old skirt Oria had discarded, a worn tunic that I hadn’t bothered to change after my sword lesson that morning, and my bare feet. Then I noticed that Julen and Oria had vanished. I stood there all alone. In fine style Bran escorted the mysterious lady to the new slate steps leading to the big double doors where I stood, but then he dropped her arm and bounded up, grabbing me in a big hug and swinging me around. “Sister!” He gave me a resounding kiss and set me down. “Place looks wonderful!” “You could have let me know you were bringing a guest,” I whispered. “And spoil a good surprise?” he asked, indicating the lady, who was still standing on the first step. “We have plenty of room, and as you’d told me in your letter the place isn’t such a rattrap anymore, I thought why not make the trip fun and bring ‘em?” “‘Them?’” I repeated faintly, but by then I already had my answer, for the outriders had resolved into a lot of liveried servants who were busy unloading coaches and helping stablehands. Through the midst of them strolled a tall, elegant man in a heel-length black cloak. I looked at the familiar gray eyes, the long yellow hair--it was the Marquis of Shevraeth.
Sherwood Smith (Court Duel (Crown & Court, #2))
Who can ever know what turns the spark into flame?
Sherwood Smith (Court Duel (Crown & Court, #2))
Your brother is a dear, and I do love him for the way he never fears to tell the truth. But he really doesn’t understand some things, does he?” “No,” I squeaked. My voice seemed to come from someone else. Nimiar ran her fingers along the harp strings and cocked her head, listening to the sounds they produced. “No one,” she said, “--well, no ordinary person-sits down to a harp and plays perfectly. It takes time and training.” I nodded stupidly. She dropped her hands. “When Branaric came to Athanarel, he knew nothing of etiquette or Court custom. Arrived wearing cast-off war gear belonging to Lord Vidanric, his arm in a dirty sling, his nose red from a juicy cold. There are those at Court who would have chewed him like jackals with a bone, except he freely admitted to being a rustic. Thought it a very good joke. Then he’d been brought by the Marquis, who is a leader of fashion, and Savona took to him instantly. The Duke of Savona is another leader. And…” She hesitated. “And certain women who also lead fashion liked him. Added was the fact that you Astiars have become something of heroes, and it became a fad to teach him. His blunt speech was a refreshing change, and he doesn’t care at all what people think of him. But you do, don’t you?” She peered into my face. “You care--terribly.” I bit my lip. She touched my wrist. “Let us make a pact. If you will come to Athanarel and dance at my wedding, I will undertake to teach you everything you need to know about Court life. And I’ll help you select a wardrobe--and no one need ever know.” I swallowed, then took a deep, unsteady breath. “What is it?” She looked unhappy. “Do you mistrust me?” I shook my head so hard my coronet came loose, and a loop settled over one eye. “They would know,” I whispered, waving a hand. “They? Your servants? Oh. You mean Branaric and Lord Vidanric?” I nodded. “They’ll surely want to know my reasons. Since I didn’t come to Court before.” I thought of that letter hidden in my room and wondered if its arrival and Shevraeth’s on the same day had some sinister political meaning. She smiled. “Don’t worry about Bran. All he wants, you must see, is to show you off at Athanarel. He knew you were refurbishing this castle, and I rather think he assumed you were--somehow--learning everything he was learning and obtaining a fashionable wardrobe as well. And every time he talks of you it’s always to say how much more clever you are than he is. I really think he expected to bring us here and find you waiting as gowned and jeweled as my cousin Tamara.” I winced. “That sounds, in truth, like Branaric.” “And as for Vidanric, well, you’re safe there. I’ve never met anyone as closemouthed, when he wants to be. He won’t ask your reasons. What?” “I said, ‘Hah.
Sherwood Smith (Court Duel (Crown & Court, #2))
Why did you get me drunk?” I asked. “I’m no rival of yours.” She made a quick, sharp gesture of negation. A diamond on her finger sparkled like spilled tears, and I realized her fingers were trembling. “It’s true,” I said, watching her bury her hands in the folds of her skirts. “What little you know of me ought to make one thing plain: I don’t lie. That is, I don’t do it very well. I don’t fault you for ambition. That would be mighty two-faced when my brother and I plotted half our lives to take the crown from Galdran. Our reasons might be different, but who’s to fault that? Not me. I gave that over last year. As for Savona--” “Don’t,” she said. “Why?” I demanded. “Can’t you see he’s just flirting with me? I don’t know much of romance--well, nothing, if you only count experience--but I have noticed certain things, and one is that in a real courtship, the two people endeavor to get to know one another.” Again I had that sensation of something important hovering just out of my awareness, but when I paused, frowning--trying to perceive it--my thoughts just scattered. “I think,” she said, “you are being a trifle too disingenuous.” I sighed. “Humor me by pretending I am sincere. You know Savona. Can’t you see him making me popular just to…well, prove a point?” I faltered at the words pay you back for going after Shevraeth and a crown? Not that the meaning escaped her, for I saw its impact in the sudden color ridging her lovely cheeks. Her lips were pressed in a thin line. “I could…almost…believe you had I not had your name dinned in my ear through a succession of seasons. Your gallantry in facing Galdran before the Court. The Astiar bravery in taking on Galdran’s army with nothing but a rabble of half-trained villagers on behalf of the rest of the kingdom. Your running almost the length of the kingdom with a broken foot and successfully evading Debegri’s and Vidanric’s warriors. The duel-to-the-death with Galdran.” I had to laugh, which I saw at once was a mistake. But I couldn’t stop, not until I saw the common omission in all of this: my disastrous encounters with Shevraeth. Had he spoken about my defeats, surely this angry young lady would have nosed it all out--and it was apparent she’d have no compunction about flinging it in my teeth. No. For some incomprehensible reason, he hadn’t talked about any of it. This realization sobered me, and I gulped in a deep, shaky breath. Tamara’s grimness had given way to an odd expression, part anger, part puzzlement. “You will tell me that your heroism if all lies?” she asked. “No,” I said. “But it’s--well, different. Look, if you really want to hear my story, we can sit down and I’ll tell you everything, from how I ran about barefoot and illiterate in the mountains joyfully planning our easy takeover, right down to how Galdran knocked me clean out of my saddle after I warded a single blow and nearly lost my arm in doing it. I think he attacked me because I was the weakest--it’s the only reason that makes sense to me. As for the rest--” I shrugged. “Some of it was wrong decisions made for the right reasons, and a little of it was right decisions made for the wrong reasons; but most of what I did was wrong decisions for the wrong reasons. That’s the plain truth.
Sherwood Smith (Court Duel (Crown & Court, #2))
If you want information,” he said in his low tones, “I am willing to take up my old connections and provide it. You need write to no one or speak to no one. It’s common enough for people to summon their own artisans for special projects.” He patted his satchel. “You are wealthy enough to enable me to sustain the cover.” “You mean I should order some jewelry made?” He nodded. “If you please, my lady.” “Of course--that’s easy enough. But to backtrack a bit, what you said about spies on both sides worries me. What if the Renselaeuses find out you’re here? Will they assume I’m plotting?” “I have taken great care to avoid their coverts,” he said. “The two who met me face-to-face last year are not in Athanarel. And none of the family has actually seen me.” Once again I sighed with relief. Then an even more unwelcome thought occurred. “If my movements are known, then other things have been noticed,” I said slowly. “Are there any I ought to know about?” He gave his nod. “It is known, among those who observe, that you do not attend any private social functions that are also attended by the Marquis of Shevraeth.” So much for my promise, I thought dismally. Yet Shevraeth hadn’t said anything. “So…this might be why Flauvic granted me that interview?” “Possibly,” he said. “I take it servants talk.” “Some,” he agreed. “Others don’t.” “I suppose the Merindar ones don’t.” He smiled. “They are very carefully selected and trained, exceedingly well paid--and if they displease, they have a habit of disappearing.” “You mean they’re found dead, and no one does anything?” He shook his head, his mouth now grim. “No. They disappear.” I shuddered. “So whatever I find out must be by observation and indirection.” “Well, if you can evaluate both sides without endangering yourself,” I said, deciding suddenly, “then go ahead. The more I think about it, the less I like being ignorant. If something happens that might require us to act, you can help me choose the correct thing to do and the way to do it.” He bowed. “Nothing would please me more, my lady,” he promised. “Good,” I said, rising to fetch my letter from the Marquise. “Here’s her letter. Read it--and as far as I care, destroy it.” I handed it to him, relieved to have it gone. “So, what’s in your bag? I will want something special,” I said, and grinned. “For someone special.
Sherwood Smith (Court Duel (Crown & Court, #2))
Tis true I haven’t seen much of anyone these mornings, but I’ve been locked up studying for a special project. But I’m nearly done, and so I find myself free.” Then Trishe had her opportunity to come forward and request that I join them, which I professed myself honored to do, and the awkward moment passed. I urged my mount in on the other side of Trishe’s and, in the friendliest voice I could assume, told her how they would all know about my secret project very soon. I didn’t actually look at little red-haired Lady Arasa Elbanek or her skinny, long-nosed brother, but I could sense them both listening avidly. This meant, I thought happily as I dropped back to ride next to Nee, that my confidential conversation with Trishe would be all over Athanarel before the bells for green-change rang. So I congratulated myself on a fine, subtle social save--until we reached Trishe’s picnic site. In the chaos of dismounting and tendering the horses to the waiting servants, I happened to catch Shevraeth’s gaze. Those gray eyes, always so accursedly observant, were now narrowed with humor, but his mouth was mock-solemn as he said, “I have the honor to introduce to you Lady Elenet Kheraev of Grumareth.
Sherwood Smith (Court Duel (Crown & Court, #2))
At one end of the room was a group of young teens busy with swordplay, and at the other a swarm of children circled round on ancient carved horses mounted on cart wheels or played at stick-and-ball. I wandered toward my friends and was soon hailed by Renna, who offered me a bout. Time passed swiftly and agreeably. I finished my last engagement with one of Nee’s cousins and was just beginning to feel the result of sustained effort in my arm and back when a practice blade thwacked my shoulder. I spun around, and gaped. Shevraeth stood there smiling. At his elbow my brother grinned, and next to him, Savona watched with appreciation apparent in his dark eyes. “Come, Lady Meliara,” the Marquis said. “Let’s see how much you’ve learned since you took on Galdran.” “I didn’t take on Galdran,” I protested, feeling hot and cold at once. “I don’t know what you’d call it, then, Mel.” Bran leaned on his sword, still grinning. “Looked like you went have-at-’im to me.” “I was just trying to defend you,” I said, and the others all laughed. “And a fat lot of good it did, too,” I added when they stopped. “He knocked me right out of the saddle!” “Hit you from behind,” Shevraeth said. “Apparently he was afraid to confront so formidable a foe face-to-face.” They laughed again, but I knew it was not at me so much as at the hated King Galdran. Before I could speak again, Shevraeth raised his point and said, “Come now. Blade up.” I sighed. “I’ve already been made into cheese by Derec, there, and Renna, and Lornav, but if you think I merit another defeat…” Again they laughed, and Savona and my brother squared off as Shevraeth and I saluted. My bout with the Marquis was much like the others. Even more than usual I was hopelessly outclassed, but I stuck grimly to my place, refusing to back up, and took hit after hit, though my parrying was steadily improving. Of course I lost, but at least it wasn’t so easy a loss as I’d had when I first began to attend practice--and he didn’t insult me with obvious handicaps, such as never allowing his point to hit me. Bran and Savona finished a moment later, and Bran was just suggesting we exchange partners when the bells for third-gold rang, causing a general outcry. Some would stay, but most, I realized, were retreating to their various domiciles to bathe and dress for open Court.
Sherwood Smith (Court Duel (Crown & Court, #2))
I did not dance again but once, and that with Savona, who insisted that I join Shevraeth and Elenet in a set. Despite his joking remarks from time to time, the Marquis seemed more absent than merry, and Elenet moved, as always, with impervious serenity and reserve. Afterward the four of us went our ways, for Shevraeth did not dance again with Elenet. I know, because I watched.
Sherwood Smith (Court Duel (Crown & Court, #2))
Though few had seen him go, his leaving seemed to constitute a kind of subtle signal, for slowly, as white wore on, my guests slipped away, many of them in pairs. Elenet left with the Orbanith family, all but her laughing. The Renselaeuses came all three to thank me formally for a splendid--memorable--evening, and then departed in a group. After they left, I felt tiredness pressing on my shoulders and eyelids; and though I stood there, back straight and smile steady on my aching face, I longed for my bed. The lake blue light of morning was just paling the eastern windows when the last guests departed and I stepped wearily up to my rooms. They were lit, and steaming listerblossom tea awaited. A surge of gratitude rose in me as I wondered how many times Mora had summoned fresh tea that I might come back to this. I sank down onto my cushions, wondering if I’d be able to get up again to undress and climb into my bed. My hand clattered the cup and saucer as I poured--and then froze when I heard a slight noise come from my bedroom. I froze, not breathing. The tapestry stirred, and then, looking two steps from death, Azmus came forward and sank down onto his knees a pace away from me. “They’re going to war,” he wheezed. “The Merindars. They’re going to march on Remalna-city as soon as the last of their hirelings arrive.
Sherwood Smith (Court Duel (Crown & Court, #2))
I’d been proud of the parlor, over which I had spent a great deal of time. The ceiling had inlaid tiles in the same summer-sky blue that comprised the main color of the rugs and cushions and the tapestry on the wall opposite the newly glassed windows. Now I sneaked a look at the Marquis, dreading an expression of amusement or disdain. But his attention seemed to be reserved for the lady as he led her to the scattering of cushions before the fireplace, where she knelt down with a graceful sweeping of her skirts. Bran went over and opened the fire vents. “If I’d known of your arrival, it would have been warm in here.” Bran looked over his shoulder in surprise. “Well, where d’you spend your days? Not still in the kitchens?” “In the kitchens and the library and wherever else I’m needed,” I said; and though I tried to sound cheery, it came out sounding resentful. “I’ll be back after I see about food and drink.” Feeling very much like I was making a cowardly retreat, I ran down the long halls to the kitchen, cursing my bad luck as I went. There I found Julen, Oria, the new cook, and his assistant all standing in a knot talking at once. As soon as I appeared, the conversation stopped. Julen and Oria turned to face me--Oria on the verge of laughter. “The lady can have the new rose room, and the lord the corner suite next to your brother. But they’ve got an army of servants with them, Countess,” Julen said heavily. Whenever she called me Countess, it was a sure sign she was deeply disturbed over something. “Where’ll we house them? There’s no space in our wing, not till we finish the walls.” “And who’s to wait on whom?” Oria asked as she carefully brought my mother’s good silver trays out from the wall-shelves behind the new-woven coverings. “Glad we’ve kept these polished,” she added. “I’d say find out how many of those fancy palace servants are kitchen trained, and draft ‘em. And then see if some of the people from that new inn will come up, for extra wages. Bran can unpocket the extra pay,” I said darkly, “if he’s going to make a habit of disappearing for half a year and reappearing with armies of retainers. As for housing, well, the garrison does have a new roof, so they can all sleep there. We’ve got those new Fire Sticks to warm ‘em up with.” “What about meals for your guests?” Oria said, her eyes wide. I’d told Oria last summer that she could become steward of the house. While I’d been ordering books on trade, and world history, and governments, she had been doing research on how the great houses were currently run; and it was she who had hired Demnan, the new cook. We’d eaten well over the winter, thanks to his genius. I looked at Oria. “This is it. No longer just us, no longer practice, it’s time to dig out all your plans for running a fine house for a noble family. Bran and his two Court guests will need something now after their long journey, and I have no idea what’s proper to offer Court people.” “Well, I do,” Oria said, whirling around, hands on hips, her face flushed with pleasure. “We’ll make you proud, I promise.” I sighed. “Then…I guess I’d better go back.” As I ran to the parlor, pausing only to ditch my blanket in an empty room, I steeled myself to be polite and pleasant no matter how much my exasperating brother inadvertently provoked me--but when I pushed aside the tapestry at the door, they weren’t there. And why should they be? This was Branaric’s home, too.
Sherwood Smith (Court Duel (Crown & Court, #2))
And so you are here to, what, grant mercy?” I closed my eyes and groaned. “Tamara. No one knows I’m here, and if you don’t like my idea, then no one will know I was here unless you blab. I won’t. I just wondered, if I invite you to come with me to Savona’s picnic this afternoon, think you things might just go back to how they were?” She flushed right up to her hairline, a rose-red blush that made her suddenly look like a young girl. “As his supplicant? I bow to your expertise in wielding the hiltless knife.” And she swept a jerky curtsy, her hands shaking. “Life! I didn’t mean that,” I said hastily. “Yes, I think I can see it’s a bad idea. All right, how’s this: You and I go out for a walk. Right now. You don’t even have to talk to me. But wouldn’t that shut up all the gossipmongers--leastwise pull the teeth of their gossip--if we seem to be on terms of amity, as if last night was just a very good joke?” Again her posture eased, from anger to wariness. “And in return?” “Nothing. I don’t need anything! Or what I need no one can give me, which is wisdom.” I thought of my mistakes and winced. Then said, “Just let things go back to the way they were, except you don’t have to think of me as an enemy. I’m not in love with Savona any more than he is with me, and I don’t see myself changing my mind. If I did, I don’t believe he’d like it,” I added, considering the elusive Duke. “No, I don’t think I could fall in love with him, handsome though he is, because I don’t accept any of that huff he gives me about my great beauty and all that. I’d have to trust a man’s words before I could love him. I think.” She took a deep, slightly shaky breath. “Very well.” And so we went. It wasn’t a very comfortable walk. She hardly exchanged five words with me; and every single person who saw us stared then hastily recovered behind the remorselessly polite mask of the true courtier. It would have been funny if I had been an observer and not a participant, an idea that gave me a disconcerting insight into gossip. As I walked beside the silent Tamara, I realized that despite how entertaining certain stories were, at the bottom of every item of gossip there was someone getting hurt. When we were done with a complete circuit of the gardens and had reached her house again, I said, “Well, that’s that. See you at the ball tonight, right?” She half put out a hand, then said, “Your brother’s wedding is nearing.” “Yes?” “Did you know it is customary for the nearest relation to give a party for the family that is adopting into yours?” I whistled. “No, I didn’t. And I could see how Nee would feel strange telling me. Well, I’m very grateful to you.” She curtsied. Again it was the deep one, petitioner to sovereign, but this time it was low and protracted and wordlessly sincere.
Sherwood Smith (Court Duel (Crown & Court, #2))
We talked more about what had happened, and Nee maintained that Savona’s picking me up and walking out was the signal that had finished Tamara. This made me wonder, as I dressed alone in my room, if there had been an unspoken struggle going on all along between the two of them. If so, he’d won. If she’d been the more influential person, his walking out with me would not have mattered; her followers would have stayed and dissected my manners, morals, and background with delicacy and finesse and oh-so-sad waves of their fans. And another thing Nee maintained was that it was my forthright admission that I was drunk that had captivated Savona. Such honesty was considered risky, if not outright madness. This inspired some furious thinking while I dressed, which produced two resolutions. Before I could lose my courage, I stopped while my hair was half done, and dashed off a note to my Unknown: I’ll tell you what conclusion I’ve reached after a morning’s thought, and it’s this: that people are not diamonds and ought not to be imitating them. I’ve been working hard at assuming Court polish, but the more I learn about what really goes on behind the pretty voices and waving fans and graceful bows, the more I comprehend that what is really said matters little, so long as the manner in which it is said pleases. I understand it, but I don’t like it. Were I truly influential, then I would halt this foolishness that decrees that in Court one cannot be sick; that to admit you are sick is really to admit to political or social or romantic defeat; that to admit to any emotions usually means one really feels the opposite. It is a terrible kind of falsehood that people can only claim feelings as a kind of social weapon. Apparently some people thought it took amazing courage to admit that I was drunk, when it was mere unthinking truth. This is sad. But I’m not about to pride myself on telling the truth. Reacting without thinking--even if I spoke what I thought was true--has gotten me into some nasty situations during the recent year. This requires more thought. In the meantime, what think you? I signed it and got it sent before I could change my mind, then hastily finished dressing. At least, I thought as I slipped out the door, I won’t have to see his face when he reads it, if he thinks it excessively foolish.
Sherwood Smith (Court Duel (Crown & Court, #2))
Savona escorted me back to the Residence. For most of our journey the talk was in our usual pattern--he made outrageous compliments, which I turned into jokes. Once he said, “May I count on you to grace the Khazhred ball tomorrow?” “If the sight of me in my silver gown, dancing as often as I can, is your definition of grace, well, nothing easier,” I replied, wondering what he would do if I suddenly flirted back in earnest. He smiled, kissed my hand, and left. As I trod up the steps alone, I realized that he had never really talked with me about any serious subject, in spite of his obvious admiration. I thought back over the picnic. No serious subject had been discussed there, either, but I remembered some of the light, quick flirtatious comments he exchanged with some of the other ladies, and how much he appeared to appreciate their flirting right back. Would he appreciate it if I did? Except I can’t, I thought, walking down the hall to my room. Clever comments with double meanings; a fan pressed against someone’s wrist in different ways to hint at different things; all these things I’d observed and understood the meanings of, but I couldn’t see myself actually performing them even if I could think of them quickly enough. What troubled me most was trying to figure out Savona’s real intent. He certainly wasn’t courting me, I realized as I pushed aside my tapestry. What other purpose would there be in such a long, one-sided flirtation? My heart gave a bound of anticipation when I saw a letter waiting and I recognized the style of the Unknown. You ask what I think, and I will tell you that I admire without reservation your ability to solve your problems in a manner unforeseen by any, including those who would consider themselves far more clever than you. That was all. I read it through several times, trying to divine whether it was a compliment or something else entirely. He’s waiting to see what I do about Tamara, I thought at last. “And in return?” That was what Tamara had said. This is the essence of politics, I realized. One creates an interest, or, better, an obligation, that causes others to act according to one’s wishes. I grabbed up a paper, dipped my pen, and wrote swiftly: Today I have come to two realizations. Now, I well realize that every courtier in Athanarel probably saw all this by their tenth year. Nonetheless, I think I finally see the home-thrust of politics. Everyone who has an interest in such things seems to be waiting for me to make some sort of capital with respect to the situation with Tamara, and won’t they be surprised when I do nothing at all! Truth to say, I hold no grudge against Tamara. I’d have to be a mighty hypocrite to fault her for wishing to become a queen, when I tried to do the same a year back--though I really think her heart lies elsewhere--and if I am right, I got in her way yet again. Which brings me to my second insight: that Savona’s flirtation with me is just that, and not a courtship. The way I define courtship is that one befriends the other, tries to become a companion and not just a lover. I can’t see why he so exerted himself to seek me out, but I can’t complain, for I am morally certain that his interest is a good part of what has made me popular. (Though all this could end tomorrow). “Meliara?” Nee’s voice came through my tapestry. “The concert begins at the next time change.” I signed the letter hastily, sealed it, and left it lying there as I hurried to change my gown. No need to summon Mora, I thought; she was used to this particular exchange by now.
Sherwood Smith (Court Duel (Crown & Court, #2))
When I returned from the concert I wrote, in my very best hand, a letter to Flauvic requesting the favor of his advice on a matter of fashion. I sent it that night, and to my surprise, an answer awaited me when I woke in the morning. In fact, two answers awaited: one, the plain paper I had grown used to seeing from my Unknown, and the second, a beautifully folded and sealed sheet of imported linen paper. This second one I opened first, to find only a line, but Flauvic’s handwriting was exquisite: He was entirely at my disposal, and I was welcome to consult him at any time. The prospect was daunting and fascinating at the same time. Resolving to get that done directly after breakfast, I turned eagerly to the letter from the Unknown: I can agree with your assessment of the ideal courtship, but I believe you err when you assume that everyone at Court has known the difference from age ten--or indeed, any age. There are those who will never perceive the difference, and then there are some who are aware to some degree of the difference but choose not to heed it. I need hardly add that the motivation here is usually lust for money or power, more than for the individual’s personal charms. But I digress: To return to your subject, do you truly believe, then, that those who court must find themselves of one mind in all things? Must they study deeply and approve each other’s views on important subjects before they can risk contemplating marriage? Well, I had to sit down and answer that. I scrawled out two pages of thoughts, each following rapidly on the heels of its predecessor, until I discovered that the morning was already advancing.
Sherwood Smith (Court Duel (Crown & Court, #2))
Remembering what the Princess had told me about histories, I had to grin as I replaced the dusty book for what would probably be another hundred years. So now where? Of course I knew where. I turned toward the corner, staring at the tapestries to the little alcove where the memoirs for the heirs were stored. Bunching my skirts in either hand so they wouldn’t rustle, I moved stealthily to the tapestry and stood listening. No voices, certainly, and no sounds beyond the drumming of the rain against the near windows. So I lifted the tapestry--and looked across the room into a pair of familiar gray eyes. Dressed splendidly in black and gold, as if for Court, Shevraeth knelt at the desk, writing. For the third time that day, my face went hot. Resolutely reminding myself of my promise not to initiate any quarrels, I said, “Harantha Chamadis. Thirav Astiar. The Treaty of Seven Rivers. Is there a record?” Shevraeth didn’t say a word. He lifted his pen, pointed at a particular shelf, then bent his head and went right back to his task. For a moment I watched his pen traversing swiftly over the paper in close lines. Then my gaze traveled to the smooth yellow hair, neatly tied back, and from there to the lines of his profile. For the very first time I saw him simply as a person and not as an adversary, but I did not give myself the space to gauge my reactions. The curl of danger, of being caught at my observations and once again humiliated, caused me to drag my gaze away, and I trod to the shelf to which I’d been directed. A few swift glances through the books, and I found the memoirs of the queen of that time. A quick glance through showed the names I wanted repeated on a number of pages. Gripping the book in one hand and brushing back a strand of my wet hair with the other, I said, “Do you need my reason--” He cut in, lightly enough: “Just put it back when you’re done.” He kept his gaze on his writing, and his pen scarcely paused. Scrawl, dip, scrawl, dip. Two or three more words--then the pen stopped, and he glanced up again. “Was there something else?” he asked. Still polite, but very remote. I realized I’d been staring for a protracted time, my reactions frozen as if behind a layer of ice. I said in a rush, “The party, for Bran and Nee. Do you--should I send you--” He smiled just a little. “It would cause a deal of talk if you were to avoid inviting any of my family.” “Oh.” I gulped. “Yes. Indeed.” He dipped his pen, bent his head, and went back to his task. I slipped out the door and fled.
Sherwood Smith (Court Duel (Crown & Court, #2))
neuraimai leapt into the air, flinging itself on glutinous wings toward
Sherwood Smith (A Prison Unsought (Exordium #3))
I’ll go in the rattler with you,” Bran said the next morning, to Nee. Grinning at her, he added, “Probably will rain, and I hate riding horseback in the wet. And we never get enough time together as it is.” I looked out at the heavy clouds and the soft mist, thought of that close coach, and said, “I’ll ride, then. I don’t mind rain--” I looked up, realized who else was riding, and fought a hot tide of embarrassment. “You can go in the coach in my place,” I said to Shevraeth, striving to sound polite. He gave his head a shake. “Never ride in coaches. If you want to know the truth, they make me sick. How about a wager?” “A wager?” I repeated. “Yes,” he said, and gave me a slow smile, his eyes bright with challenge. “Who reaches Jeriab’s Broken Shield in Lumm first.” “Stake?” I asked cautiously. He was still smiling, an odd sort of smile, hard to define. “A kiss.” My first reaction was outrage, but then I remembered that I was on my way to Court, and that had to be the kind of thing they did at Court. And if I win I don’t have to collect. I hesitated only a moment longer, lured by the thought of open sky, and speed, and winning. “Done,” I said.
Sherwood Smith (Court Duel (Crown & Court, #2))
I promised myself that next time Shevraeth tried to talk to me, I’d listen, and even if he insulted me, my family, and my land, I’d keep my tongue between my teeth.
Sherwood Smith (Court Duel (Crown & Court, #2))
One morning when we three were alone, Nee leaned forward and said, “Elen, you’ve been closeted with Vidanric a lot, I’ve noticed. Has he said aught about a coronation? I confess it makes me nervous to have it not decided--as if they are waiting for something terrible to happen.” Elenet’s expression did not change, but high on her thin cheeks appeared a faint flush. “I trust we will hear something soon,” she murmured. And she turned the conversation to something general. Were they in love? I knew that she was. Elenet would make a splendid queen, I told myself, and they both certainly deserved happiness. I found myself watching them closely whenever we were all at an event, which occurred more and more often. There were no touches, no special smiles, none of the overt signs that other courting couples gave--but she was often by his side. I’d inevitably turn away, thinking to myself that it was none of my business. It wasn’t as if I didn’t have admirers, both the social kind and one real one--though I didn’t know his name. Still, the subject made me restless, which I attributed to my knowledge of how badly I had behaved to Shevraeth. I knew I owed him an apology, or an explanation, two things I could not bring myself to offer lest--someone--misconstrue my motives. And think me angling for a crown. So I hugged to myself the knowledge of my Unknown. No matter how my emotions veered during those social occasions, it was comforting to realize that I would return to my room and find a letter from the person whose opinions and thoughts I had come to value most. I preferred courtship by paper, I told myself. No one feels a fool, no one gets hurt. And yet--and yet--though I loved getting those letters, as the days went by I realized I was becoming slightly impatient of certain restraints that I felt were imposed on us. Like discussing current events and people. I kept running up against this constraint and finding it more irksome as each day passed. We continued to range over historical events, or the current entertainments such as the Ortali ribbon dancers or the piper-poets from faraway Tartee--all subjects that I could have just as well discussed with an erudite lady. The morning of Nee’s question to Elenet about coronations, I found the usual letter waiting when I returned to my room. I decided to change everything. Having scanned somewhat impatiently down the well-written comparison of two books about the Empire of Sveran Djur, I wrote: I can find it in myself to agree with the main points, that kings ought not to be sorcerers, and that the two kinds of power are better left in the charge of different persons. But I must confess that trouble in Sveran Djur and Senna Lirwan seems a minor issue right now. The problems of wicked mage-kings are as distant as those two kingdoms, and what occupy my attention now are problems closer to home. Everyone seems to whisper about the strange delay concerning our own empty throne, but as yet no one seems willing to speak aloud. Have you any insights on why the Renselaeus family has not made any definite plans?
Sherwood Smith (Court Duel (Crown & Court, #2))
May I ask you a personal question?” She looked up in query and made the graceful little gesture that I had learned was an invitation. “Isn’t Shevraeth a friend of yours?” “Yes,” she said cautiously. “Then why the fan, and the careful words when you asked about your friend Elenet?” Nee set her cup down, her brow slightly furrowed. “We are friends to a degree…Though we all grew up at Court, I was never one of his intimates, nor even one of his flirts. Those all tended to be the leaders of fashion. So I don’t really know how close he was to any of them, except perhaps for Savona. It took everyone by surprise to find out that he was so different from the person we’d grown up with.” She shrugged. “He was always an object of gossip, but I realized recently that though we heard much about what he did, we never heard what he thought.” “You mean he didn’t tell anyone,” I said. “Exactly. Anyway, Elenet is an old friend, of both of us, which is complicated by her family’s machinations. Her safety is important to me. Yet in referring to it, I don’t want to seem one of the busybodies or favor-seekers.” “I don’t think you could,” I said. She laughed. “Anyone can do anything, with determination and an inner conviction of being right. Whether they really are right…” She shrugged. “Well, if he wants to be king, he’ll just plain have to get used to questions and toadies and all the rest of it,” I said. Remembering the conversation at dinner and wondering if I’d made an idiot of myself, I added crossly, “I don’t have any sympathy at all. In fact, I wish he hadn’t come up here. If he needed rest from the fatigue of taking over a kingdom, why couldn’t he go to that fabulous palace in Renselaeus? Or to Shevraeth, which I’ll just bet has an equally fabulous palace?” Nee sighed. “Is that a rhetorical or a real question?” “Real. And I don’t want to ask Bran because he’s so likely to hop out with my question when we’re all together and fry me with embarrassment,” I finished bitterly. She gave a sympathetic grin. “Well, I suspect it’s to present a united front, politically speaking. You haven’t been to Court, so you don’t quite comprehend how much you and your brother have become heroes--symbols--to the kingdom. Especially you, which is why there were some murmurs and speculations when you never came to the capital.” I shook my head. “Symbol for failure, maybe. We didn’t win--Shevraeth did.” She gave me an odd look midway between surprise and curiosity. “But to return to your question, Vidanric’s tendency to keep his own counsel ought to be reassuring as far as people hopping out with embarrassing words are concerned. If I were you--and I know it’s so much easier to give advice than to follow it--I’d sit down with him, when no one else is at hand, and talk it out.” Just the thought of seeking him out for a private talk made me shudder. “I’d rather walk down the mountain in shoes full of snails.
Sherwood Smith (Court Duel (Crown & Court, #2))
Well, if he wants to be king, he’ll just plain have to get used to questions and toadies and all the rest of it,” I said. Remembering the conversation at dinner and wondering if I’d made an idiot of myself, I added crossly, “I don’t have any sympathy at all. In fact, I wish he hadn’t come up here. If he needed rest from the fatigue of taking over a kingdom, why couldn’t he go to that fabulous palace in Renselaeus? Or to Shevraeth, which I’ll just bet has an equally fabulous palace?” Nee sighed. “Is that a rhetorical or a real question?” “Real. And I don’t want to ask Bran because he’s so likely to hop out with my question when we’re all together and fry me with embarrassment,” I finished bitterly. She gave a sympathetic grin. “Well, I suspect it’s to present a united front, politically speaking. You haven’t been to Court, so you don’t quite comprehend how much you and your brother have become heroes--symbols--to the kingdom. Especially you, which is why there were some murmurs and speculations when you never came to the capital.” I shook my head. “Symbol for failure, maybe. We didn’t win--Shevraeth did.” She gave me an odd look midway between surprise and curiosity. “But to return to your question, Vidanric’s tendency to keep his own counsel ought to be reassuring as far as people hopping out with embarrassing words are concerned. If I were you--and I know it’s so much easier to give advice than to follow it--I’d sit down with him, when no one else is at hand, and talk it out.” Just the thought of seeking him out for a private talk made me shudder. “I’d rather walk down the mountain in shoes full of snails.” It was Nee’s turn to shudder. “Life! I’d rather do almost anything than that--” A “Ho!” outside the door interrupted her. Bran carelessly flung the tapestry aside and sauntered in. “There y’are, Nee. Come out on the balcony with me? It’s actually nice out, and we’ve got both moons up.” He extended his hand. Nee looked over at me as she slid her hand into his. “Want to come?” I looked at those clasped hands, then away. “No, thanks,” I said airily. “I think I’ll practice my fan, then read myself to sleep. Good night.” They went out, Bran’s hand sliding round her waist. The tapestry dropped into place on Nee’s soft laugh. I got up and moved to my window, staring out at the stars. It seemed an utter mystery to me how Bran and Nimiar enjoyed looking at each other. Touching each other. Even the practical Oria, I realized--the friend who told me once that things were more interesting than people--had freely admitted to liking flirting. How does that happen? I shook my head, thinking that it would never happen to me. Did I want it to? Suddenly I was restless and the castle was too confining. Within the space of a few breaths I had gotten rid of my civilized clothing and soft shoes and had pulled my worn, patched tunic, trousers, and tough old mocs from the trunk in the corner. I slipped out of my room and down the stair without anyone seeing me, and before the moons had traveled the space of a hand across the sky, I was riding along the silver-lit trails with the wind in my hair and the distant harps of the Hill Folk singing forlornly on the mountaintops.
Sherwood Smith (Court Duel (Crown & Court, #2))
Well, if he wants to be king, he’ll just plain have to get used to questions and toadies and all the rest of it,” I said. Remembering the conversation at dinner and wondering if I’d made an idiot of myself, I added crossly, “I don’t have any sympathy at all. In fact, I wish he hadn’t come up here. If he needed rest from the fatigue of taking over a kingdom, why couldn’t he go to that fabulous palace in Renselaeus? Or to Shevraeth, which I’ll just bet has an equally fabulous palace?” Nee sighed. “Is that a rhetorical or a real question?” “Real. And I don’t want to ask Bran because he’s so likely to hop out with my question when we’re all together and fry me with embarrassment,” I finished bitterly. She gave a sympathetic grin. “Well, I suspect it’s to present a united front, politically speaking. You haven’t been to Court, so you don’t quite comprehend how much you and your brother have become heroes--symbols--to the kingdom. Especially you, which is why there were some murmurs and speculations when you never came to the capital.” I shook my head. “Symbol for failure, maybe. We didn’t win--Shevraeth did.” She gave me an odd look midway between surprise and curiosity. “But to return to your question, Vidanric’s tendency to keep his own counsel ought to be reassuring as far as people hopping out with embarrassing words are concerned. If I were you--and I know it’s so much easier to give advice than to follow it--I’d sit down with him, when no one else is at hand, and talk it out.” Just the thought of seeking him out for a private talk made me shudder. “I’d rather walk down the mountain in shoes full of snails.
Sherwood Smith (Court Duel (Crown & Court, #2))
Well, if he wants to be king, he’ll just plain have to get used to questions and toadies and all the rest of it,” I said. Remembering the conversation at dinner and wondering if I’d made an idiot of myself, I added crossly, “I don’t have any sympathy at all. In fact, I wish he hadn’t come up here. If he needed rest from the fatigue of taking over a kingdom, why couldn’t he go to that fabulous palace in Renselaeus? Or to Shevraeth, which I’ll just bet has an equally fabulous palace?” Nee sighed. “Is that a rhetorical or a real question?
Sherwood Smith (Court Duel (Crown & Court, #2))