Oh for gods’ sake,” Tristan muttered. “Are you spreading your syrup with your knife?” He looked up. “Yes.” Kestrel raised a single eyebrow. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t that knife buried in somebody’s gut yesterday?” “It was.” Roan stared at him, clearly unfazed. “I cleaned it.” Suddenly Adrian laughed, and the rest of them laughed too.
