Jehan wandered off the dance floor, his eyes scouring the room for Ruqaiya.

Distracted, he almost ran straight into the young woman he’d left gaping in his wake minutes ago.

He blinked. “Oh…um. Hey there! Would you like to have that dance now?”

Her scarlet lips quirked upwards. “I’d love to! But you must be tired, so soon after your last dance. It looked…stressful.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

“You should have a drink, rest a little.” She held up a champagne flute.

She was carrying another in her left hand, this one half-empty. “And then, of course, we can have that dance you promised me. Don’t think I’m letting you off the hook that easy.”

“I’d be disappointed if you did.” He accepted the drink and raised it to his lips.

Ruqaiya’s agitated voice floated to his ears. He turned around.

At the other end of the hall, President Maganti stood at the center of a circle composed of Madam Ivanovna, Afreen, Ruqaiya, and Mr. Sokolov. The president was red faced and fuming.

“Duty calls.” Jehan smiled apologetically at the young woman, before heading towards the unlikely group that had formed near the exit.

“What’s the matter?” he asked mildly, once he was close enough to be heard by the gathered individuals.

“The president seems to be under the misconception that Afreen is a criminal,” Ruqaiya informed him, sounding annoyed. “He’s threatening to have her arrested.”

“I can’t allow that, I’m afraid,” Ivanovna said decisively, her jaw set. “Afreen is my guest. And I can’t allow her to be mistreated in such a way while she’s visiting Maralana. Definitely not on the basis of unsubstantiated hearsay.”

Jehan nodded, idly swirling the champagne in his glass. “I can’t allow it either, I’m afraid.” He smiled apologetically at Maganti, which seemed to infuriate the president even more. “Afreen is a Naijani citizen.

“And as the prime minister, I can’t very well allow my citizens to be detained in foreign countries without due process…and a very solid reason. What’ll people say?” He turned to Afreen. “But what’ve you done to offend the president so much he wants to have you arrested?”

“Nothing.” She looked at him with wide, innocent eyes. “I’d just asked President Maganti for a venue to organize an event in Manganic, on behalf of my organization. I’d planned to give a series of talks in the city, on the subject of trafficking.

“As I was telling the president–” she stole a quick glance at Maganti, who looked like he was itching to wring her neck. “The people of Maralana should be made aware of the dangers of human trafficking, seeing as it’s emerged as such a pervasive problem in Naijan, a neighboring country.

“In particular, I wanted to talk about what’d happened at the La Fantome club, and how new-age drugs are now being used by traffickers to lure children away from their homes. Mr. Sokolov has even agreed to fund the event.” She beamed at the older gentleman. “But the president seems opposed to the idea.”

“That sounds like a fantastic idea!” Jehan beamed at Afreen, raising the champagne flute to his temple. “And I’m sure there’s been a misunderstanding. There’s no way the president can be opposed to such a noble cause.”

“Do you think I’m a fool? She’s an agent from Naijan!” Maganti thundered, pointing at Afreen. “Sent here to destabilize my government.”

A few cameras flashed away at the peripheries of Jehan’s vision. He smiled.

“That’s not true!” Afreen protested, scandalized. “Please, Mr. President. You’re welcome to run a thorough check on my background. I’ve worked internationally as a social worker for years now, to uplift the marginalized sections of society. I have an impeccable record. I’ve worked in more than twenty countries over the course of my career.”

“She’s telling the truth.” A pale woman with dreadlocks came forward from the crowd that’d gathered around their little group. Jehan wondered which one of the northern city-states she was from. “Ms. Afreen and some of her colleagues came to my ancestral village last year. From what I’ve heard from my relatives, they’ve done some excellent humanitarian work in the region.”

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Strong fingers closed in around his bicep. Between one breath and the next, Jehan was being pulled aside by Maganti.

“I know exactly what you’re trying to do, you devious son of a bitch!” the older man hissed into his ear, his voice trembling with suppressed fury. “And let me tell you this. You will never succeed.”

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, Mr. President.” Jehan smiled pleasantly at Maganti, holding his drink carefully away from the older man. “I already have succeeded. Tell me, where’s Rinisa? When was the last time you saw her, anyway? I bet it’s been at least an hour, if not more.”

Maganti’s eyes widened, his hold on Jehan slackening. He looked around frantically. A vein in his temple throbbed a steady rhythm, making him look slightly unhinged.

“She’s gone.” Jehan stepped away, smiling. “And she’s just the first rat to leave a sinking ship. The others will follow soon enough.”

Maganti sputtered. “You’re lying!”

“Well, you could always try calling her, if you don’t believe me.” Jehan shrugged. “Might be a shock to the system, though. I’m guessing you’re not used to having your calls ignored.

“Still, I wouldn’t hold it against her if I were you. At this point, she couldn’t have answered even if she wanted to.”

Maganti glared balefully at him.

Jehan suppressed a grimace. He never had managed to completely overcome his aversion to aggression.

But it wouldn’t do to let Maganti think he had anything resembling the upper hand.

Forcing his lips to curl into a mocking sneer, Jehan flicked imaginary lint off the president’s lapels. “She tried to steal your secret Amven stockpile from the Central Bank and leave the country…not two hours ago.”

Maganti sucked in a sharp breath and Jehan felt something uncoil in his chest. He hadn’t known. Maganti was as surprised as Jehan had been, though he didn’t show it with anything more than the twitch of a brow.

“Not that you need to worry about that,” Jehan continued, examining an exquisite flower arrangement on the wall behind Maganti. “All of that’s already been dealt with. Abhijat Shian has Rinisa in custody, as well as your stock of stolen Amven.”

Maganti growled under his breath. Jehan laughed. “Let’s not kid ourselves, Mr. President. Stolen goods are stolen goods. Not that they’ll remain stolen for much longer, of course. Rinisa is a Naijani citizen and will be taken back to Qayit immediately, along with the drugs she was trying to flee with.

“Soon, both your right-hand woman and your prize drugs will be in Qayit, out of your reach. And there isn’t a thing you can do about it.”

“What’s he talking about, Grigori?” Ivanovna asked, stepping forward, a frowning Sokolov in tow. “What are these drugs that were stolen?”

“He’s lying!” Maganti roared, advancing threateningly towards Jehan, forcing him to take a step back. “Don’t you dare–”

“Tell me, Mr. President.” Jehan twirled the champagne glass between his fingers, staring contemplatively down at the golden liquid. “What would I find if I sent this drink over to the lab for a quick toxin test?

“Could it be that I’d find – to my dismay – that this glass of champagne was laced with a drug that’d make me conveniently comatose? Or better yet, would give me a heart attack a couple of hours after I’ve left this lovely gala? Not that it’d be a particularly bad way to die, all things considered. But still, bit of a rude way to welcome your friends, wouldn’t you agree?”

He glanced at Ruqaiya. “Could you get it to a lab for me? A cursory test shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours. Madam Ivanovna, if you will. It’s only fair that some Maralanese witnesses be present during the testing, to avoid allegations of sabotage or duplicity, if nothing else.”

“If something is found in that glass,” Maganti interjected, an undercurrent of menace in his tone. “What’s to say you didn’t put it in there?”

Balancing the champagne flute casually between two fingers, Jehan raised an eyebrow. “The simple fact that the woman who handed me this drink has been with you all evening, besides being a model for one of the clothing lines owned by your family.” He looked around innocently at the gathered attendees. “You can have the cameras checked, if you don’t want to take my word for it.”

Maganti snarled, launching himself at Jehan.

Seeing the attack coming, Jehan planted his feet, bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, and forced himself not to dodge or move out of the way.

The optics would be worth a few broken bones, if it came to that.

President Maganti attacking the unarmed leader of a neighboring country at his own gala… Just a month ago, Jehan would’ve given his right arm for this opportunity.

And now–

Maganti’s fist connected with his jaw, and Jehan offered no resistance, allowing himself to be thrown backwards into the wall. The champagne flute shattered against the concrete, spraying golden liquid everywhere.

How dramatic. Jehan couldn’t have choreographed this better if he’d tried.

By the time the stars dissipated from his vision, Sokolov and some guards were pulling Maganti off him, even as the president raged and ranted about international conspiracies and espionage.

Jehan schooled his features into an expression of bewildered dismay, rubbing gently at his throbbing skull.

He said nothing. He didn’t need to.

His part was done. Anything more would be seen as unwelcome interference into the affairs of a foreign country.

Besides, Maganti had made enough enemies within Maralana. They wouldn’t need Jehan’s help taking him down. Not anymore.

He heard Ivanovna instruct the guards to escort the president home.

“Make sure he doesn’t leave the house until we’ve decided how to proceed with this issue,” she said, turning away from her fuming stepson. “He’s clearly unwell.”

“And unstable,” someone in the crowd muttered.

Jehan shook his head sadly, looking away as the president was all but dragged out of his own gala, screaming and fulminating.