“I know your histories, Covey Fircrown. And I know you have no love for the prince.” “To say so would be treason,” Ronak points out. “It would,” she agrees. “But the fact remains.” “Yeah, we hate the fucker,” Evert says. When the guys give him an exasperated look, he shrugs. “What? We do.” Sylred sighs. “Tact, Evert.” “And maybe some restraint,” Ronak adds with a frustrated shake of his head.
