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“The pauper bows to the princess, Colt. You’d do well to remember that.”
“So, your plan is to just go all high school detective like you’re Veronica Mars or something?”
“Can we talk?” he asked me. “Banjo!” Colt said again. “You’d better go. Your king is calling.” “He’s not my king,” Banjo muttered. “Could have fooled me,” I said quietly. There was no malice in my voice this time, though.
“Be good to our girl.” My heart thumped. Our girl. Was that what I was? Warmth kindled inside me when Banjo nodded.
