The car rolled through the palace gates in a smooth, whisper-silent glide of engineered dignity Chris desperately wished Dax possessed right now.
No such luck.
The moment the intercom clicked off and Rowan's exhausted breathing vanished from the speakers, Chris felt Dax turn his head toward him with the single-minded focus of a predator who had been temporarily leashed and was now planning his jailbreak.
Chris straightened his shirt again, even though it didn't need straightening, and tried to look composed. "When this door opens," he said quietly, "you will remember you are a king."
Dax tilted his head. "I remember."
"Good."
"I remember," Dax continued, leaning closer, "that kings take what is theirs."
Chris slapped a hand over Dax's mouth before those words could hit their target, shoving him back into the seat. "Absolutely not. No poetic feral nonsense before we're even out of the vehicle."
