Lowering the tariffs wouldn't be a significant blow to the kingdom. If anything, it would smooth relations and invite prosperity. Trade would flourish if done right, and that was what he kept reminding himself. Repeatedly. Because the real sting wasn't in the deal. It was in losing. Publicly. Badly.
When he entered the main hall, the atmosphere was thick with expectation.
Sahira, the diplomat from the Black Panther Tribe, sat gracefully on one of the long cushioned benches, sipping a cup of tea. Her golden eyes sparkled with amusement the moment she saw him. Leon didn't return the smile, but he nodded curtly, acknowledging her with dignity.
The Dowager Queen sat at the head of the long table, fingers interlaced, hiding her inner concern beneath a composed expression. She was worried. Of course she was.
