“Jes will stay the bloody pit out of my way while I am in command,” Flint said, “or I’ll put him in front of a firing squad before Lindet can so much as sneeze. You two can either follow my orders or get out of my office. I have real work to do.” Styke glanced at Ibana, then down at his own hands. It was right there at his fingertips, a new commission for him and his men, with horses and kit and a real purpose. All he had to do was reach out and take it. And put aside a decade of hatred. Ten years since he last sat in a saddle. His balls were going to be so damned sore by the end of the night.
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