"The gravity of the improvement stifles me."
"...Well, she's on the right path."
"The temper is in her veins," Alexios said. "Ask her brother or sister."
Somewhere in another world entirely, her brother declined to comment. Lilith, meanwhile, sneezed.
"Don't look so betrayed, rabid dog," Quinlan told her, warm as anything. "This is generosity. I'm playing marriage counselor for two people who wanted to kill me not long ago."
"I still want to kill you!" Morgana clarified with a guttural shout. Then, for good measure, she added, "And I do not want to be reunited with this wrinkly piece of shit!"
Quinlan leaned back in his stolen chair and considered the deadlock.
Words had failed. Bribery had failed. Devotion had failed.
Time for art.
A pinch of mortar peeled off the fireplace masonry, crossed the study in a lazy spiral, and settled on the desk between the two men, where it became a pair of small clay figures.
One wore a tiny crown. The other held a tiny staff.
