Leo gave a frustrated growl. “I’ve nothing but respect for you as a swordsman! But we’re boarding that ship. In the name of King Harod, step aside!” He’d never seen Gorst smile before. He’d seemed a man incapable of expressions. But he smiled now as he raised his steels, metal flashing in the sun. Like a man who feels a wonderful relief. “In the name of King Orso,” he piped, his boots grinding into the weathered wood as he lowered himself into a ready crouch, “no.”
