““He passed an irritated smirk at Bart. “Given that I be the rightful king of the throne Flowery’s father currently parks his arse upon, aye. I dare them to question me.” He turned back to his cousin. “That not right, Flowery? Or have you finally found the bullocks to behead your father and come for me?” He stiffened visibly in his saddle. “What would you have of me … Majesty?” The word was more insult than title of honor. Ignoring the slight, Devyl glanced over his shoulder as he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Gadreyal was about to pierce the veil and come after them. He could feel it like a tangible touch on his skin. “You might want to gather up some troops.” Flaithrí arched his brow. “Might I inquire as to why?” No sooner had he asked the question than Devyl’s enemies brought down the shield and found their way into his grandfather’s realm. Devyl smiled coldly at Flaithrí. “No particular reason, other than if you don’t, you’re going to have something a lot worse than me to worry about.””
