Chris tilted his head back to look up at him, eyes narrowing with familiar amusement. "See? Payment."
Dax smiled faintly and leaned in anyway, brushing his lips in a soft, warm kiss. He straightened with a quiet exhale, resting one hand on the edge of the desk, the towel still hanging loose around his neck.
"So," he said. "What version did you find?"
"The one where you didn't want the crown," Chris replied. "The one where you waited until the country could survive you taking it."
Dax's expression changed into something thoughtful. "I waited because a crown is a promise," he said. "And broken promises kill faster than weapons."
Chris glanced at the closed laptop. "You ruled for five years without one. That doesn't sound like someone afraid of responsibility."
"It sounds like someone who understood timing," Dax corrected. "If I'd taken it earlier, they would've called it tyranny. Later, they would've called it weakness."
"And instead?"
