"Pull over near the café on the right."
There was a brief pause in which the driver could reflect on his career, training, convoy formation, and possibly the entire concept of monarchy.
"Yes, Your Highness."
Dean leaned toward the speaker. "Tell them this is a pastry-related emergency."
Arion closed the line before the driver could suffer further.
"Coward," Dean said.
"I protected the command structure."
"You protected them from joy."
"I protected them from you."
Dean considered that. "Fair."
The convoy slowed.
That was the first ridiculous thing.
The second ridiculous thing was the way the entire security formation adjusted around a tiny café with green awnings and fogged windows as if the building had been identified as a hostile fortress. Two armored vehicles moved ahead. One stopped behind them. A security officer stepped out and scanned the street with the solemn focus of a man prepared to neutralize a threat or, apparently, approve a croissant.
Pedestrians slowed.
