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“The pauper bows to the princess, Colt. You’d do well to remember that.”
“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.
“You’re perfect, you know that?” he said, kissing my shoulder. “We are,” I corrected. “We’re perfect.” In that moment, I believed it.
It would be hours later before I realized Banjo had never said I love you back.
