“It’s going to start in less than an hour.” Ruqaiya strode into the suite in an elegant gray saree with navy borders. “And you haven’t even knotted your tie yet.”

She plucked the offending piece of fabric from Jehan’s hands and started looping it efficiently around his neck. “You’d never have held down a job if you weren’t a genius.”

Jehan cocked his head to the side, his lips quirking. “I’m not sure whether to take that as a compliment or an insult. Is she here?”

“She is. They all are. Down in the lobby, ready and waiting for you.” She gave the tie one final tug, then patted it in place against his chest. “There you go. All suited up and ready for the big boys’ party.”

Jehan smiled, pulling awkwardly at his sleeves. This shirt fitted him a little too well for comfort. “Thank you. For coming out here at such short notice–” He waved a hand. “I really couldn’t have done this without you.”

Ruqaiya shrugged. “I’m not sure you’ll be able to do this with me. It’s right on the teetering edge of what I’d even call a plan.”

“Your confidence means the world to me,” he deadpanned, examining himself critically in the full-length mirror next to his wardrobe. “I look distinguished.”

“You look like a twink in a suit.”

He frowned, taking her assessment into consideration. “A distinguished twink in a suit.”

She rolled her eyes. “You should take Abhijat with you,” she said, her tone losing all traces of humor. “If Maganti tried to kill you once, he might try again. In fact, he’s more desperate now than ever before. And we’re in his capital city. His stronghold. You need all the protection you can get.”

Jehan shook his head, turning away from the mirror. “Nah. I need someone with her. Someone who can protect her, yes. But also someone I can trust not to turn on me. Not many people would be willing to risk murdering the prime minister in a place like this. But she’s an easy target. I can’t entrust her safety to anyone less than completely trustworthy.”

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“And Abhijat Shian is that person?”

“He’s already betrayed me once.” Jehan slid an arm into his jacket, pulling it on with a huff. “It’s kinda lame to betray someone twice in two days. Plus, I’m pretty sure Rito would murder him if he let anything happen to her friend.”

Ruqaiya raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“And,” Jehan sighed. “A little distance might be good for our relationship.”

“You’re awkward around him, aren’t you?”

“He just looks so…guilty all the time,” Jehan said plaintively. “Won’t look at me, won’t even talk unless I address him directly. It’s painful.”

“No less than either of you deserve, I’m sure.” She strode out of the room, smirking.

“Hey, wait up!” Jehan caught up with her at the elevator bay, breathing hard. “Have you spoken to Ivanovna yet?”

Ruqaiya nodded. “You’re so out of shape, I worry for the future of our nation. Though I have to say, whatever you said to her, it seems to have worked. She agreed to make the introductions at the gala, personally. I didn’t even have to ask twice.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “And…the other thing?”

“Oh, that. Yep. She’s agreed not to press charges or publicize the incident…yet. She didn’t seem happy about it. But then, he did kidnap her daughter. If anything’s going to get you riled up, I suppose it’s that.

“But she’s more than willing to help us, from the looks of it. She seems to like you. And I suppose it helps that she’s been at loggerheads with her step-son ever since her husband died fourteen years ago. She wants to stick it to Maganti as much as we do, if not more.”

“Well, her daughter seems to have taken a liking to Rito.” Jehan followed Ruqaiya into the elevator. “If all goes well tonight, the future leaders of Naijan and Maralana might end up being in-laws.”

Ruqaiya chuckled. “I’d like to see you try and sell that idea to Abhijat. All the guilt in the world won’t keep him from strangling you if he finds out you’re scheming to sell his sister into a political marriage with the Maganti girl.”

“Worth a try.” He shrugged. “All for the greater good, of course.”

“Well,” Ruqaiya murmured, as the elevator doors slid open. “If your plan works out and Ivanovna really does become the next president of Maralana, we can secure strategic partnerships and free trade agreements the likes of which no one has dreamed of in decades. Your name will go down in history as one of the most successful prime ministers Naijan has ever had.”

“That,” agreed Jehan, stepping out into the brightly lit lobby. “Or one of the most short-lived.”