As we approached, I caught the shift in Stavros's expression—the flash of disdain that preceded his response. "I fail to see why a pack that can't secure its own borders deserves Crown intervention. Perhaps if they spent less time enabling females to play at being warriors—"
"Minister," I interrupted, my voice carrying the full weight of royal authority.
Stavros turned, his expression smoothing instantly into practiced deference. "Ah, my King." He bowed his head in the traditional gesture of respect, though the movement held the stiff formality that had always characterized our interactions. When he straightened, his gaze flicked contemptuously toward Emma. "I was just explaining to this... gamma... why her request for military engineers cannot be accommodated."
His emphasis on "gamma"
