“King,” he slurred. “I think there’s a wee ghosty behind you.” I twisted my mouth into a grimace. “This is the guy we’re trusting to sail through the storms at the border?” “Don’t worry, Ghosty. Crow’s been sailing longer than you’ve been dead,” Atlas said, a lopsided smirk on his irritating face. “I hate to break it to you, dog, but that’s not saying much.”
