I told him about Ethan’s call to my father, watched his face for a sign he knew about it. I didn’t see it. Instead he looked surprised and a little appalled. “Not a good idea.”

“No, it wasn’t. But it’s done now. Is there something we can do? Protection we can offer?”

“Do you think your father would take it?”

“I don’t know. What about the human guards? Could we post a couple near his house?”

Luc put a hand on my arm. “Sentinel, considering how angry you are at Ethan for talking to your father without checking with you first, do you really think it’s a good idea to put guards on your father without talking to him first?”

I curled my lip. “Don’t try to use logic against me.”

“Perish the thought. Look, why don’t I talk to your grandfather, broach the issue with him? He might have a better sense of, let’s say, the proprieties.”

Some of the pressure in my chest loosened. “I’d appreciate it.”

Luc nodded. “This screws my plan for you to help Paige with the alchemy tonight. We need to focus on translating it.”

“You’re preaching to the choir. Unfortunately, using that metaphor, Ethan’s the bishop. He makes the rules, and I can’t just let him go by himself.”

“What do you think Reed’s got in mind?”

“I don’t know, but I’m sure he’s got a plan. That’s the kind of man he is. Even when we’re aggressive, like with Hellriver, he’s still two steps ahead of us.”

“He’s the bad guy; they usually are two steps ahead until they’re caught.”

“Yeah.” I sighed. “I’m going to try to keep Ethan out of trouble.”

“Do your best,” he said. “And I’m glad you came to me, told me about it. I’m pissed he didn’t, but he’s one of the more stubborn among us.”

“Stubborn barely scratches the surface,” I said, thinking of the night before at Little Red. “Have you heard anything from Gabriel? From the Pack?”

Luc’s expression darkened. “No, although we wouldn’t necessarily. I guess that’s Ethan’s complaint. At this point, not hearing anything is probably best. Means they haven’t declared war against us.”

“They wouldn’t do that.”

Luc didn’t look as convinced. “It wouldn’t be the first instance of internecine warfare.”

“I know. And I know Ethan’s pissed, and Gabriel’s probably pissed now, too. But they’re both adults. They both want what’s best for their people, and that can’t be war with each other, Luc. It can’t.” My voice had become pleading.

“Let’s hope not, Sentinel. Damn. What a night. Ethan’s probably talking to Malik, but I’ll throw myself onto that grenade if he hasn’t.”

Resigned, I nodded and began walking toward the door to the parking garage. But I glanced back at Luc. “Do me one more favor?”

“Anything, Merit.”

“Call the lawyers, and get them ready.”

•   •   •

The Botanic Garden had been—and still was—a beautiful place to visit. But I knew this trip wasn’t going to go well, and the paths and gardens were still shadowed by my memories.

My mother had held my sister Charlotte’s sixteenth birthday there. I’d been stuffed into a party dress and forced to join in. She was three years older, and I felt ugly and coltish beside her friends, who already knew their ways around makeup, clothes, and pretty hairstyles. I was already uncomfortable in starchy crinoline and a training bra. I felt even more so when matched against Charlotte’s beautiful friends.

More recently, I’d walked there after Ethan’s death, when I’d wanted solitude and solemnity. That hadn’t fostered happy memories, either.

The park had closed a few hours ago. But the large black gates at the entrance were open, a man in a dark suit checking invitations and waving expensive cars into the park.

He waved us in, and Ethan pulled into a parking slot backward, the car facing the front entrance in case we needed to make a quick getaway.

“You look beautiful and formidable,” Ethan said as he opened my door and offered a hand to help me out of the car.

“Let’s hope the latter more than the former.” Once out, I adjusted the skirt so it fell appropriately around my hips. Not that it wouldn’t make an impression regardless, which was surely part of the reason Ethan had chosen it.

The deep black tuxedo he’d selected for himself certainly made an impression. He’d brushed back his hair, tucked it behind his ears, and looked very much the rich magnate. Which was true, to a point.

He didn’t say anything, but offered me his arm, and when I slipped mine into it, we walked from the parking area to the main building, where a jazz ensemble played and Chicagoland’s wealthiest humans sipped champagne.

Just inside the door, two women sat behind a table with LADIES AUXILIARY printed across the tablecloth. Ethan offered our names, and one of the women provided small silver pins in the shape of tulips. No sticker name tags or Sharpies for this crowd.

The other woman gestured toward the door. “You’ll find the silent auction over there, cocktails and light snacks on the terrace. You’re welcome to explore the park. The lights of Evening Island are on, and it’s a lovely night for a walk.”