Heena stopped in front of him, eyes half‑lidded with exhaustion and murder. "Robinson."
Estov winced in sympathy. "Ah. The one with the permanently sweaty forehead."
"He woke me up," Heena said, "to tell me that the Northern Empire is sending an embassy in seven days."
Estov stared. Then slowly covered his mouth, shoulders shaking.
"Don't," Heena warned.
A muffled snort escaped anyway. "Sorry, sorry. I just—seven days, 'middle of the night'… he really signed his own death contract, huh?"
Heena rubbed the corner of her eye with one knuckle, smearing a bit of kohl. "If I kill him now, the paperwork will take longer than the satisfaction."
System 427 bobbed beside them, tail stiff. "Host, jokes aside, seven days isn't much. We still don't know if that marriage talk from the border kingdom is tied to this delegation or if it's a separate move. And if X‑system is behind their timing—"
