Elspeth yanked an arrow from the wolf's side viciously, wiped the arrowhead, and put it back into her quiver. "No, Ser Jory, I don't think this is all a grand adventure," she gritted between her teeth. "I don't feel like it's an honor: I have to be here, so here I am."
"The Grey Wardens only accept the finest – " Jory began.
"Whether they will or not!" Elspeth said heatedly, pulling another arrow, inspecting it, and putting it into her quiver. "I was assured – my parents were assured – that I would not be conscripted against my will, and yet that is exactly what happened."
That got Alistair's attention. "Wait… what -"
Elspeth examined another arrow, cast it aside as too damaged to be of use. "My father was Bryce Cousland, Teyrn of Highever. Duncan said he would not conscript me because he could not afford to anger the nobles of Ferelden. Our castle was surprised by Arl Howe's men, and they slaughtered our servants, my nephew and sister in law, and left my father dying in a pool of his own blood." She straightened, picking up her bow. "My father pleaded with Duncan to take me and my mother to safety, and Duncan agreed to only if I Joined. I said no. He conscripted me on the spot and dragged me off, leaving my mother to cover our escape." Her voice broke. "I didn't even get to say goodbye…."
She turned her back, her face red and her brows drawn. "So forgive me if I am not enamored of the Wardens and the honor of being chosen. Since neither of my noble parents are alive to protest my conscription to the king, I guess there's no danger of angering them."
It was Davith who regained his voice first. "I am sorry for your loss, my lady…."
She paused, only turning partway towards him. "Thank you," she said quietly. "But I am no longer a lady. No titles. No family. No history."
"Maker's breath," Jory muttered under his breath.