The Thief Who Went To War (Amra Thetys, #5)

by Michael McClung

The third jug didn’t do anything for me in particular except make me more drunk, which is all you can reasonably ask from a jug of plonk, really.

From what I could tell, it remained standing solely because it couldn’t be arsed to fall apart.

It was a lot easier to be pugnacious in the face of fuckery when you knew a mage who was death on two legs had your back.

The clover proved to be full of ants, because of course it did.