Loreen's POV
Loreen sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that night.
His meeting with Lord Oslo had gone on far longer than it should have, stretching deep into the evening until the candles in the office had burned down considerably and his patience had burned down with them.
Lord Oslo was a thorough man, which was admirable in most cases and deeply exhausting in this one.
Every point had been made twice, every concern turned over and examined from every possible angle, and by the time the man finally rose from his seat and took his leave, Loreen had been ready to tip sideways out of his chair.
He leaned back now and let his eyes close.
The office was quiet, and the chair beneath him felt comfortable.
For one brief, hopeful moment, Loreen allowed himself to believe that perhaps the people who had been waiting for him earlier had finally looked at the late hour, chosen wisdom for once, and gone home to return another day.
The door opened.
