David was no longer King. Did that mean that if his son who still loved him and missed him and had dreamed of nothing but this for eight bleeding months endeavored to beat the living shit out of him, it wouldn't be seen as treason? Because Ethan was seriously considering charging over there and belting the jackass right in the damned mouth, regardless of consequence.

As it was, however, he simply took a deep breath, squared his shoulders again, and drew himself up. He was a motherfucking Spade, goddamnit, not some sniveling child. At least, not anymore.

"Do you. Then I'm sure everyone in the Deck will rejoice at your return." Formality, yes, let's use that. It would serve the mask well. "And what Suit will hold your allegiance, pray tell?" Inquiring minds would definitely want to know.