"We're going to Saha," Trevor said casually, like he was announcing a trip to the vineyard and not to a kingdom known for political theatrics and fondness for war.
Silence followed.
Birds chirped. The estate cat sneezed somewhere in the hedge, deeply unimpressed.
Windstone blinked. Once. Twice. "I see."
"You don't," Lucas said flatly. "He decided this five minutes ago."
"Correction," Trevor offered. "I decided it this morning. I'm just choosing to share it now."
Windstone's jaw tensed exactly once before relaxing into its usual, terrifying calm. "Naturally. Why plan when you can destabilize foreign relations before lunch?"
Lucas made a sound that was probably laughter, or a quiet cry for help.
"We leave in a week," Trevor went on, as if this were all very normal. "Schedule the convoy. No Crown aides. No borrowed guards. Only our people. And seal the guest wing in the Sahan palace before we arrive—Dax will understand."
