‘Who cares a shit what they think?’ shouted Tunny, jerking forward and stabbing at Orso with the stem of his pipe. ‘Long as they bloody obey! You’re king, boy! Not me, not Yolk and not Leo dan bloody Brock! You! Now, I daresay being king has its downsides but I can tell you there are worse jobs.’ ‘Huh,’ grunted one of the girls, adjusting her bodice. ‘All this bloody self-pity. It was fun when you were a crown prince, but fuck, it doesn’t suit a king.’
