Four days had passed since Octavia first noticed Jack's absence.
Four days of explaining away his disappearance to visiting dignitaries, of forging his signature on contracts that couldn't wait, of inventing increasingly elaborate excuses for why the heir of Sorne was unavailable.
She sat in her study, surrounded by paperwork that seemed to multiply whenever she looked away.
Trade agreements. Border dispute resolutions. A formal complaint from House Meridian about tariff adjustments that Jack should have handled personally.
The door opened without a knock, a liberty only one person in the household would take.
"You look like death warmed over," Celeste announced, sweeping into the room with a wine glass already in hand. "And it's not even a good look on you, which is saying something."
Octavia didn't bother looking up from the document she was reviewing. "Shouldn't you be recovering from yesterday's drinking bout with Bartram?"
