Ira had gathered with the others when Jinx had summoned them all to her, cruel and cold eyes scanning each of them in turn, noticing as his eyes narrowed until he was squinting at each of the motley crew gathered that one of them was missing. The one who had considered himself all high and mighty the one and only time the insolent Prince had came into contact with him. The pieces had began to come together to paint something of a crude and rudimentary picture just before Jinx had began to speak, claiming the focus of Ira’s gaze and his utmost attention.
A cruel sneer might have left the Princeling’s lips as Jinx spoke of Majesty’s crimes that had warranted him a swift boot in the ass out the door if they had not been so severe. Now, in the warnings that followed the aftermath, was not the time to sneer on the creature’s name, despite how inherently sweet and effortless the vengeance had been. How arrogant and foolish the earthen kissed man — if Ira dared to call him such a thing — had been, lording around Ira as if he had any right only to be kicked out for disobeying Jinx, and worse yet fraternizing with the enemy. Ira, when Bones had been around and they had been something of an item, had at least told Bones to stay well away from Silvertip’s borders and to exercise caution when she was in the free territories near Silvertip.
A twisted part of the pallid Prince wished he could have been there to see it happen. To laugh in the ignorant fool’s face because Ira was cruel like that. How are your overstated lists of things you supposedly did for Silvertip working for you now? Ira thought though attempted, for the sake of not missing what Jinx was saying, to reel in his thoughts.
It was only when Jinx finished speaking did Ira let his gaze touch each of the wolves gathered again, wondering which ones would be abruptly leaving and which ones would be staying with them. Those that were loyal to Jinx and Silvertip Mountain.