Chris ended the call with a soft exhale, staring at the dark screen for a moment longer than necessary, still processing the information with a little lag.
A birthday that was absolutely going to be a political ambush disguised as cake.
Rowan watched him from the far end of the couch. "You have that look."
"What look?" Chris asked faintly.
"The one you get when you've just accepted a social obligation that will involve at least three power struggles, two wardrobe crises, and one potential international incident."
Chris sank back into the cushions. "Lucas wants us there. Not wants. Has decided we will be there."
Rowan nodded. "That tracks."
"And I promised," Chris added, rubbing his face. "Which means now I have to go find my husband and inform him that our honeymoon is being temporarily re-routed to a battlefield hosted by Serathine and Cressida."
Rowan's lips twitched. "You're going to tell the King of Saha what to do?"
