"Oh." I feel my face heating. "Well, it should be. Communication before violence. That's just good conflict resolution."
One of the soldiers chokes.
Devyn's head turns. Slowly. The soldier immediately develops a fascinating interest in the ceiling.
"Perhaps," Devyn says, turning back to me with a warmth that looks almost like tenderness, "we can discuss conflict resolution strategies later. For now, let's focus on the basics."
I catch the soldiers exchanging a look of absolute disbelief. I have a feeling...they’re wondering why Devyn hasn’t divorced me yet.
"The four territories," Devyn continues, pointing at the map. "North—Quinn Haydraugh. West—Skye Wyndham. East—Wolfe Sideris. And South."
"That's you."
"That's us."
Us.The word does something to my heart. Makes it flip over in my chest.
"Rhode Island and Connecticut," I say, proud of myself for remembering. "You control Rhode Island and Connecticut."
"Wecontrol Rhode Island and Connecticut."
There it is again.We. Us. Our.
"Good." He nods once. "You're learning."
Behind him, both soldiers look like they might pass out. I think...they’re not used to hearing Devyn compliment anyone, much less for something as basic as knowing which states are under his rule.
I bite my lip to keep from smiling.
"What about the other kings?" I ask. "Are they...like you?"
"No one is like me."
"That's not what I—"
"Quinn is ice. Doesn't speak unless necessary. Wolfe is..." He pauses. "Volatile. But honorable. Skye...is good at retrieving information. People underestimate him. They shouldn't."
"And you?" I can't help asking. "How would you describe yourself?"
He looks at me. That golden gaze, giving me nothing.
"Impatient," he says finally. "Demanding. Difficult to work with."
"You're not being difficult right now."
"I'm making an exception."
"For who?"
His mouth curves. Just barely. "Who do you think?"
I forget what I was going to say next.
He steps closer. Points at the map—I have no idea what he's pointing at, because his arm is brushing against mine and his scent is everywhere and my brain has apparently decided to stop functioning.
"The border here," he's saying, "is contested. We've had skirmishes with—" He stops. "Bailey."
"Hmm?"
