Sahir went very still, the stunned silence of a man whose heart had just tripped over something it didn't know how to deal with.
His gaze snapped to Chris.
Chris slept on, face relaxed in a way that felt almost indecent for someone who ran an empire through paperwork and spite. His hair was a mess from his own fingers and Dax's, his robe loose, and his mouth slightly parted. He looked younger like this, softer, like the palace had finally stopped asking him to be sharp for five minutes and he'd immediately collapsed out of pure exhaustion.
Sahir's throat worked, and he did not speak or move for two minutes.
Killian watched him with that maddening calm that always meant he'd already made three contingency plans and one insult list.
Tania blinked slowly from the carpet, judging Sahir like he was a potential threat.
Rowan's voice stayed low. "Prime Minister."
Sahir blinked once.
His eyes were wet. No one said anything about it, because saying anything about it would be suicidal.
