and some by virtue fall; any

[Kushiel]

Damn it, this was not going as planned. Sure, they’d successfully burned the living daylights out the the tree, and Gryffen had carried off the queen like he had wanted. But then, Weed, Erebor and himself had been carried off like a sack of potatoes.

Bloody fantastic.

Was one queen worth three good men? Kushiel did not think so. Not if that queen was Fiasko and one of the men was himself. Straia would have been worth all this fuss. She was necessary to her kingdom. Without her, the various rabid animals she ruled would surely turn on each other. Kushiel didn’t think anyone in the Gates had enough of a spark to turn on anyone. Without a ruler they would probably just start up a republic. The gray stallion groaned inwardly, and it was hard to keep it from turning external. He scowled at Shahrizai, suddenly loosing his already poor patience.

“Shah, good buddy, I wish I could tell you. I really do. One minute I was burning that stupid tree and the next minute I’m here, being interrogated by you, your creepy desert lady, a vicious dog, who should be put down, by the way, and her! He cast a look at Wichita, who had successfully delivered her son. It was really all too much to be born. The fire in the stallion’s mane grew a little higher and his dark eyes, usually bored or sarcastic, or glinting with delight, turned wicked.

“And what’s it to you? If that’s what I was doing?” He was talking about the tree of course, and the whole business with the Gates.

“Last I checked, the Gates was no ally of the Desert. Surely, you’re not enough of a hypocrite to provide no aid and then whine at their attackers.” Another glinting, wicked grin. He needed to cool it a little, but it was so hot here, and already he was so thirsty. Arrogantly, Kushiel pushed past the large group and took another drink of water. Determined to show them that he wasn’t going to be pushed around, even if there was a pack of them.

Hey, it wasn’t much, but Kushiel did have some pride left.