“There’s no getting out of it,” Tristian says, mouth pressed into a tense, unhappy slant. “But you don’t need to worry. In fact, we’ve worked out a plan to keep you safe.” Rath sinks back into his seat, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I think the royal ‘we’ is overstating our agreement a bit.” I look between them, noting the agitation. “Are you going to give me a gun?” “What?!” Killian looks at me like I suggested he skin a cat. “Fuck no! Are you insane?”
