Beta Draven had served Renwick Lunaris for decades. None of it came close to preparing him for this particular shitshow. He killed his whiskey, then reached over and killed Renwick's as well.
"Keep him," Renwick ordered. "He'll be useful."
Kael snorted. "Keep me? You should know, I bite, I shed, and I will absolutely shit on your rug the second you turn your back."
Two men slammed Kael to his knees. One grabbed a fistful of his hair and jerked his head back violently while the other pressed steel to his throat.
"Really," Kael said flatly. "Easy on the hair, ladies. I just washed it."
Renwick's hand closed around Guinevere's cuffed arm. He led her to the center of the tent and shoved her on her knees.
"You'll cooperate or I open your loud dragon's throat and let his brother find the pieces. No flame. Do you understand?"
