“The glory of knighthood is lovely, isn’t it?” Raoul asked as they urged the indignant Peachblossom and the calm Drum to pull. “The brilliance and fury of battle, the sound of trumpets in the air, the flowers, and the pretty girls—or pretty boys, in your case—climbing all over us.” Kel, every bit as muddy and weary as her knight-master, grinned. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, my lord. You are a bad man.”
