Liam had approached the scheduling meeting with a plan.
It was, in retrospect, the first mistake.
He sat at the long table in his private office with a cup of coffee near his elbow, three open tablets in front of him, and the increasingly optimistic belief that if he shifted enough ceremonial obligations into larger combined appearances, he might reclaim several entire afternoons for engineering work.
Rubis sat opposite him in dark Nurian formalwear, one leg crossed over the other while he moved appointments between calendars with the calm precision of someone who had already anticipated every attempted escape.
Kamal occupied the chair at the end of the table.
He had brought tea.
That should have been Liam's second warning.
"I think this works," Liam said, studying the week displayed before him. "Move the agricultural delegation to Thursday after the infrastructure committee, combine the veterans' reception with the foundation dinner, and cancel this."
Rubis did not look up.
