Saif had barely finished a tense meeting with his senior council when a royal courier from Makana Riyasat entered, his steps crisp, bearing a sealed envelope embossed with the golden emblem of the Kingdom of Amiri. The moment Saif’s eyes caught the seal; something shifted in his chest. He already knew—he could smell the parchment, feel the handwriting beneath the flap, and almost hear the laughter hidden behind the ink. He broke the seal slowly, hands calm but heart thundering like a war drum. As his eyes skimmed the letter, he found the formal invitation to Crown Prince Faris bin Anas Amiri’s coronation ceremony. But what made his breath hitch, just slightly, was the final line—"Your presence is both requested and awaited by the royal family—and personally, by your loved one." His Amira. His Noor. She had written that line, he knew it. His lips twitched, involuntarily, the closest thing to a smile his council had seen in weeks. But he cleared his throat and folded the letter with measured restraint. “Another diplomatic ceremony. We’ll prepare accordingly,” he said flatly, hiding the tremble of excitement beneath political indifference.
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