Scar

‘Back to the palace in your chauffeur-driven car, aye?’ Scar observes flatly.

‘Jesus, Scar – what do you want me to do, cycle there?’ Rev asks, uncharacteristically annoyed. ‘I’m needed back in Windsor in an hour. I guess I could drive myself, but…’

‘The limo’s got a minibar,’ says Scar. ‘We get the idea.’

‘Stop being a cow, Scar,’ Janene says, unexpectedly. ‘None of this is Rev’s fault. Leave him be.’

Scar glares at her for a moment, then realises she’s looking a little tearful. ‘Ah well, if that’s what he wants,’ she mutters, and turns away.

Trojans, pp127-28

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Smart, contemporary political thrillers. A new kind of urban fantasy,

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