Andrew adjusted the cuff of his shirt and checked his reflection one last time, more out of habit than vanity. A dark suit with a neutral cut and no unnecessary insignia. Glasses with a gold frame. Rings on, because he wasn't about to meet a king unarmed.
He didn't feel like a guest.
The door chimed softly. One of the palace attendants, a man dressed impeccably, deferential, and clearly trained never to look too closely at anyone who might start a diplomatic incident, bowed.
"My lord," the man said, voice smooth. "His Majesty is waiting for you."
Andrew exhaled through his nose.
"Thank you," Andrew replied, his tone polite, clipped, and professional. The voice of a man who had once stood in courtrooms and dismantled careers without raising it. "Lead the way."
The walk through the inner corridors was brief, as Dax seemed to choose the guest area and not his office. That meant the king didn't want Chris to find out about this meeting. At least not yet.
