Ronan laughs. “King and Queenie? That’s epic.” “We’re just friends,” I explain. Kingston’s fingers flex on my waist. “I’ll take a half pint of the house lager. Queenie, what would you like?” “Whoa, wait a second. He’ll have a pint of milk, and I’ll have a root beer.” I poke Kingston in the chest. “Alcohol and ax throwing do not go together.”
