By the time Windstone delivered the report, the apartment wing was already winding down for the night. Outside the tall windows, the city was a scatter of lights against the dark, the hum of distant traffic reduced to nothing by glass and heavy curtains.
Trevor was propped against the headboard in a loose T-shirt, sleeves pushed back, the glow from his tablet painting his face in shifting light. Lucas was stretched out beside him, scrolling idly through his phone, the duvet drawn carelessly over his hips.
"She accepted," Windstone said from the doorway, voice as composed as ever. "Miss Mia will attend the dinner. She has also been informed, accurately, about His Majesty recognizing Lord Christopher as a dominant omega and placing him under his protection."
Trevor's eyes lifted from the tablet, one brow ticking upward. "Accurately?"
