A. M. Sullivan

“It took a while to master the right phrases, but once I got him going, old Gilly”

“Degan struck the wall with the back of his head, bounced off, and fell to his knees. Hadrian felt the pain in his knuckles and only then realized he had hit him.Gaunt glared up, his eyes watering, his hands cupping his face. “Crazy fool! Are you mad?”“What’s going on?” Arista called back down the line.“This idiot just punched me in the face! My nose is bleeding!”“Hadrian did?” the princess said, stunned.“It was… an accident,” Hadrian replied, knowing it sounded feeble, but not knowing how else to describe his actions. He had not meant to hit Gaunt; it had just happened.“You accidentally punched him?” Wyatt asked, suppressing a chuckle. “I’m not sure you have a full understanding of the whole bodyguard thing.”“Hadrian!” Royce called.“What?” he shouted back, irritated that even Royce was going to join in this embarrassing moment.“Come up here. I need you to look at something.”Degan was still on his knees in a pool of water. “Um”

“You fight like a street thug,” Mauvin commented.“Because that’s what he is,” Royce assured them as he approached from the direction of the keep, “a big, dumb street thug. I once saw an old woman batter him senseless with a butter churn.” He shifted his attention to Hadrian. “Now what have you gotten yourself into? Looks like this kid will hand you a beating.”Mauvin stiffened and glared at Royce. “I would remind you that I’m a count’s son, and as such, you will refer to me as lord, or at least master, but not kid.”“Better watch out, Royce, or he’ll be after you next,””