Sylvia had been given three days to prepare for Rohan.
Thomas claimed this was because she had recently been declared healthy and should not be rushed into international travel.
Sylvia knew better.
Thomas had spent most of those three days enjoying the fact that she was healthy, bonded to him, and no longer required to sleep beneath the judgmental glow of medical monitors.
Very little mental preparation had occurred.
Now their private jet was less than half an hour from Rohan's capital, and Sylvia was beginning to consider whether jumping from the aircraft would be medically irresponsible or merely politically inconvenient.
She stared through the window at the mountains emerging beneath the clouds.
Thomas sat beside her, reading a security report as though he were not taking his newly transformed, newly marked mate to meet the queen who had known him since childhood.
Sylvia adjusted the collar of her dress.
Then adjusted it again.
Thomas lowered the report.
"Stop."
