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Whatever studied me wasn’t the warm, strong force I’d felt before in Prythian. The force that had saved me, my son, and Nesta’s power. This force, this being, was something wholly different from the Mother. And it didn’t feel kind.

A shadow shifted behind me, but I didn’t dare try to see if Az was there. I knew he wouldn’t be visible anyway.

“I beg you,” the Mistress intoned, “bless this meeting, bless your true adherents, and turn the hearts of the nonbelievers to your cause. In your name, we shall do the good work to ready this world so it may one day be purified for your Great Revealing. I beg you again, bless us all.”

The Mistress lowered her hands, the tattoos around her eyes shrinking and fading. And as she opened her eyes, her gaze was already fixed on mine again. “Given the gravity of our talks today,” she said, her mouth thinning, “some divine assistance seemed necessary.”

The grand vizier grunted, but the Duke of Bernion remained notably impassive.

The Mistress didn’t drop her stare from mine, her face stern as she suddenly asked, “Have you dedicated your child to the service of your Mother yet?”

It took every ounce of self-control to keep from snarling at her mere mention of Nyx. I didn’t need to look at my mate to know he fought the same battle. Instead, I asked as blandly as I could, “What business is it of yours?”

“The Unseen whispered to me of his unbound soul.”

It would take me half a thought to send a lash of flame to wrap around her neck. To squeeze until something popped.

But the Duke of Bernion laid a warning hand on the arm of the Mistress’s chair and said, “While I know you speak with the kindest intentions, Mistress, we should leave our companions to decide what is best for their son.”

The Mistress didn’t take her eyes off me. I’d never hated anyone more.

Rhys answered smoothly, not a glimmer of the lethal rage I knew was smoldering right beneath the surface, “His Naming Day approaches. No more unbound soul after that.” His teeth flashed in a smile that was pure predator.

Our son’s Naming Day would be a modest ceremony to officially add Nyx’s name to the court’s lineage, then a party for which I’d handed off the planning to Elain, though the Mistress didn’t need to know any of that. Most babes had their Naming Day on the eighth day after birth, but . . . well, things had played out differently for us. We’d settled on the Autumn Equinox, six months after Nyx was born, if only to give us time to settle things enough for a party. And feel like having one.

The Queen of Vallahan cut in imperiously, “And I suppose our invitations to your son’s Naming Day were lost?” She gestured at Mor, and though I did not appreciate her one bit, I couldn’t help but admire how the rune tattoos on her fingers were etched with razor-sharp precision. “Or were you going to hand-deliver them?”

“The ceremony is limited to family,” Rhys answered, unruffled. “Nothing fancy.”

I kept my face blank. Rhys had wanted shooting stars, cascading garlands, at least three choirs in his initial vision of the celebration. We’d settled on something more reasonable: lunchtime tea and cakes. The Autumn Equinox wasn’t one of our largest celebrations at the Night Court, but its feasting and harvest decorations would certainly add some pleasant vibrancy to our own merriment.

“Wasn’t there some old story,” the Queen of Vallahan mused, fingers now drumming on the stone table, “about the dangers of not inviting everyone you know, even those you don’t like, to life’s great celebrations?”

I glanced at Mor, searching for a hint as to what story the queen was referencing. Mor’s brown eyes darkened. “Are you planning on sending a curse Nyx’s way?”

A rumble of deep, unbreakable power reverberated down my mating bond. Rhys was one breath away from violence.

The queen smiled, all teeth—well aware of the monster she had provoked, and finding it highly amusing. “Of course not. I am simply offering advice.” A nod toward the Mistress, now watching us with naked distaste. “As was she.”

“We appreciate it,” I bit out.

“Enough with babes and curses,” the Prince of Vallahan said, crossing his muscled arms, fur coat shifting with the movement. “Let us get down to the business we came here to discuss.” His father shot him a weary, reproachful look, but his mother lifted her chin in approval.

I refrained from telling Mor mind to mind that we should drastically increase her salary for dealing with these people. And maybe give her a nice, long vacation.

“Very well,” Rhys agreed, interlacing his fingers and setting them on the table as if he had not been poised to turn the Queen of Vallahan into bloody mist a heartbeat ago. “If you already know what we wish to discuss, then it shall come as no surprise when I ask what, exactly, are your intentions regarding the human lands to the south.”

My mate was a beautiful balance of charm and power—and implied threat. He could handle them easily. So while he did what he was best at, it was time for me to embark upon my own mission.

Az had likely already completed his shadows’ sweep of the room. Half a thought had my own magic unspooling, invisible threads that wended around the table, lightly brushing over the occupants.

Both Az and I had come to seek a Made object, using our very different powers to detect whether one of our enemies possessed such a thing—and were dumb enough to bring it here.

Az hadn’t been able to confirm it a few days ago, when he’d braved Montesere’s highest peak on information from one of his spies: a Made object was being hunted by Montesere, Rask, and Vallahan, but did our enemies already have possession of a Made object? Did they seek a second, or were they still searching for their first? Aside from the Trove, which required that its bearer be Made, most other Made objects could be wielded by anyone with magic. A category that certainly included our enemies.

I was one of the few people in any territory who might be able to detect if they already had one. A Made object, either on them or recently used by one of them, would have left a lingering aura of power. A scent, like the odor of smoke from a bonfire. Or so Nesta and Amren had claimed when Az presented his findings.

Nesta would have perceived such an object in a heartbeat, but her mere existence was already unsettling enough for these people. Bringing her would have been an unwanted distraction—and possibly interpreted as a threat. Elain, of course, was too inexperienced. So even though my Made powers were different from theirs, it was worth a shot. Worth it for Az and his shadows to see if something felt amiss. They were not Made, but they could sense such things.