Quinlan looked down at the basin from above and let himself have the moment.
His girls were scattered across the scorched floor in clusters of battered armor and bloody grins, each one standing over the remains of an officer who had outleveled them by significant margins.
Kaelira was on her hands and knees while Feng pressed a healing potion to her lips. Lyra leaned against the basin wall with one arm hanging useless and Ria kneeling beside her, pouring a second vial across the exposed bone of her ribs. Blossom's shoulder was a ruined mess of torn leather and blood, and she was wagging her tail so hard that Felicity couldn't keep the potion-soaked cloth in place.
On the far side, Lucille and Iris stood on either side of Drekken's corpse while Seraphiel climbed off the garrison commander's shoulders with blood matting her blonde hair to her face. The healer elf was giggling, extremely proud of herself.
