‘Don’t you trust me?’ ‘It can be hard to trust men who stab their allies in the back.’ ‘I don’t plan to do it once a week!’ he snapped. ‘Or ever again,’ he added, hurriedly. He felt bad for Lord Marshal Forest. A good man, a good soldier. He felt bad, but there’d been no choice. And as a point of fact, he’d stabbed him in the front.
