The man opened his mouth to continue, then hesitated with an irritated look. “Why do you do that? I’ve expressly asked you to call me Philip.”
“Philip is so proper.” Kris gestured around the room vaguely with his fork. “I don’t want to be stuck in formality every second of the day, so I’m trying to make our working relationship more relaxed. You know, to differentiate it from when I meet stuffy dignitaries with poles up their asses. You do want me to be able to differentiate between you and—”
“Kris,” Tommy murmured, face down.
“Don’t you?” Kris jumped to the finish.
“Fine.” Philip’s sigh was long-suffering. “But training to be king doesn’t mean you can do anything you want.”
“Trust me,” Tommy said, “his attitude has nothing to do with that.”
Kris smirked.
“Regardless, it’s poor form to repeatedly shirk your own guard. Particularly after repeatedly being asked not to.”
“Again?” Tommy angled a narrowed stare at him.
“It’s fine.” Kris glanced at them both. “I don’t need guards. I wouldn’t have to shirk them if we just gave them the night off. They work hard.”
Philip looked aghast.
“Why not?” Kris’s heartbeat grew louder in his ears. Anticipation coiled in him as he casually eyed his advisor. “What exactly do you think might happen to me?”
He’d waited for the right moment to ask, because unless this palace was populated by ignorant fools, someone else must share his suspicions about the deaths of his uncles and cousin. And they were keeping it from him.
“Is there a threat we don’t know about, Phil?” he asked, angling his head.
Tommy froze beside him, then looked up to watch Philip.
“Only if your head’s been stuck in the hay, Your Highness,” the man answered. “Royal-obsessed public. Paparazzi. The usual concerns that are no less valid just because you haven’t yet learned to take them seriously.”
Kris gave a hum. Tommy glanced out the window.
“Do you disrespect your team so much?” Philip gestured behind him to where Peter and Hanna were stationed just outside the closed doors.
“I don’t disrespect them.” He didn’t know them. Despite his efforts, the pair rarely spoke, never smiled, and their expressions always lay somewhere between mildly disapproving and dull-minded.
“You must,” Philip said, “since you risk their jobs every time you run off.”
Kris turned his mouth down at the corners, impressed. “Breaking out the emotional manipulation, I see.”
“This is serious.”
“So is what I’m doing,” he said, telling the absolute truth.
“Look, this is the last time I’ll bring it up,” Philip said. “But be warned, security has tightened after last night. I’ve been told you won’t get away again.”
Kris almost groaned. Tighter security. Great.
Instead, he cocked a challenging brow. “Tell them to tackle me.”
“I’ll do no such thing.” Philip’s lips thinned. Then he tossed the folded newspaper onto the table. “Care to explain this?”
Curious, Kris and Tommy both tipped their heads to see the headline. Cowboy Prince Shouts Round at Foreign Embassy. Beneath was a photo of Kris standing at the entrance to the embassy of the neighboring minister for agriculture, flanked by his guards, holding a six-pack of the palace’s own microbrew.
“I told you I’d sort it out.” Kris gestured to the newspaper with his toast. “Publicly.”
Philip’s face flushed. “With beer?”
“Why not?” He bit into the sourdough. “We shared a few drinks. I apologized for walking out of his presentation. He gave me a few pointers on political extrication, as he called it. He’s an alright guy. No hard feelings.”
There was a room-wide silence in which even the serving staff seemed to hold their breath for Philip’s response. But he just said faintly, “I’m not built for this. I’ll see you in your study in twenty minutes.” With that, the advisor left, the grand double doors closing in his wake.
Twisting his lips, Kris returned his attention to Tommy.
His brother was watching him steadily. “Are we really sure Mark loves Ava?”
“Why does everyone keep asking that? I can handle this.” Kris leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. “Want to come out with me tonight?”
The corner of Tommy’s mouth quirked. He gestured to where Philip had been standing. “Did we just experience two different conversations?”
“I didn’t say we’re going to slip security.”
Tommy raised a wry brow. “You know I’m not coming. And we both know what you’re going to do.” He paused. “And that it’s a bad idea.”
“I have no choice.” Kris shoveled the last of his toast in his mouth. “Didn’t you hear that challenge?”
His brother muttered, “Oh, dear God,” as he scratched between his brows. “Just bring