"All the better then, that someone disgusting as me is here to disrupt your appetite," Ankari says wistfully, his princely tone played up again, cloying and honey sweet. That worked better upon his slavering council of worgs than the warrior prince himself, Ankari knew that well enough from their short first meeting. Khoriya only played along out of spite for that pack of hounds, not because he found any charm in Ankari's political play.

Maybe he saw a brief flash of understanding, when he spoke truth and Khoriya accepted him. Only then, only so very shortly. Never again.

He needs to keep Khoriya talking and disdainfully focused up. The past is a cruel thing, a terrible distraction. It's perfect to open old wounds about now. Ankari heals quick, after all, he can self mutilate if it means getting Khoriya somewhere contained.

"My father was a coward who ran the moment he heard his first son was felled," Ankari goes on, knowing he wants to know and also that he hates knowing, "did Caldera put up an entertaining fight, I wonder? He was more feral a beast than any of your lot,"