Sahir arrived with such timing that it was impossible to believe it was a coincidence.
The door opened without the usual announcement of Rowan over the intruders. Just the Prime Minister of Saha stepping into the queen's office as if this was normal, as if he hadn't been elected into one of the most powerful positions on the planet, as if he hadn't spent fifteen years holding the country steady with nothing but competence and a spine made of policy.
He held a single folder in one hand.
One.
Chris looked up from the procurement dispute he was currently dismantling and felt a flicker of amusement turn into something warmer.
Rowan straightened by instinct, posture shifting from 'tired' to 'ready,' because Rowan's body didn't understand the concept of safe - not even when the man entering the room was an elderly omega with silver at his temples and a reputation that could make ministers sweat just by clearing his throat.
