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“Right.”

I winced as I realized my error. “I should have invited you, too. I’m sorry. I assumed you were busy with the party planning—” She’d seemed so happy to plan Nyx’s Naming Day celebration. I hadn’t thought to ask if she wanted to join us for the debrief, certainly not about such a miserable subject. But I was glad Elain hadn’t been there to witness my fight with Amren.

Elain quickly shook her head, though her features had tightened. “You have enough on your plate already to bother remembering which sister to invite to your meetings.”

The truth was, I hadn’t invited Nesta—she’d just become part of the unit, and I routinely gave her the same information that I passed to Mor or Cassian. Even if recent events had strained some of that ease of communication and welcome between us all.

But Elain . . . I buried my guilt down deep. “I can give you an update if you want,” I offered. “It’s grim, though. We think Rask, Montesere, and Vallahan are seeking a Made item of their own—likely at Koschei’s urging or manipulation. We need to find it first. Mor is going back to Vallahan after the party to see what she can find out, but . . .” I sighed. “Who knows?”

Elain angled her head. “Do you want me to try to . . . See it?”

“No,” I said, sighing again. “Thank you, but no—Nesta tried scrying before the meeting but couldn’t discover anything. I thought, because she’s Made, that whatever spells are hiding the object might not apply to her, since it seems no spells can even hold Nesta, but it was no use.” I didn’t add the obvious: that if Nesta couldn’t find this thing, Elain, Seer or no, likely couldn’t, either. Nesta’s power had always been stronger.

“All right,” Elain said quietly, and turned to the pile of gifts. “It’s going to take you a month to open these, by the way.”

I let her drop the subject and followed her lead. “Writing all the thank-you notes will take longer.”

“Maybe there’s some magical charm that could write them for you.”

“If someone has invented that, I’ll kiss them right on the mouth.”

Elain laughed. A rare sound these days, I realized. When had I last heard her laugh—or seen her brown eyes really light up like that? I couldn’t remember. Another pang of guilt pealed through me.

Once the Naming Day was over and done with, maybe I’d pull Elain aside for a heart-to-heart. Last year, she’d mentioned the trauma she had endured at the Cauldron’s hands—and how much it hurt her that our focus had been solely on what her trauma did to us, rather than what it had done to her in the first place. I’d never followed up.

I was a terrible sister.

But now wasn’t the time for that talk. So I asked, “Everything is ready for the party?”

“Yes,” Elain said, tucking a strand of hair behind an arched ear. “The Velaris High Priestess has her acolytes preparing the city temple based on the specifications I gave them—I know they’ll want to have their own Equinox ceremony before, so the trickiest thing has been balancing their ritual requirements with the decorations we’re bringing in. But it should be all sorted out, and everything here should be in order for the luncheon afterward.”

“Thank you,” I said. “Not only for planning this, but for taking it off my plate, and Rhys’s. He loves to throw a good party, but I think this would have stretched him too thin.”

Elain laid a hand on her heart. “It’s my honor. And my pleasure to do it for Nyx.”

“He loves his Aunt Elain.” Though Nyx had a nursemaid—Ana—who tended to him during the hours when Rhys and I couldn’t, Elain often gladly took over her duties, walking Nyx around the grounds, reading him books, and doing the one task I truly had no stomach for: changing his soiled muslin diapers.

Elain’s doe-brown eyes softened. “And his Aunt Elain loves him.” For a second, I could have sworn I detected a note of longing. Of pain.

But I had another meeting to rush to, with the Minister of the Palace of Thread and Jewels to discuss much-needed repairs on the south colonnade. They were about three hundred years overdue. And while my sister’s well-being was important . . . I was High Lady of this court. My people were dependent on me.

So I said, “Thank you again. I’ll see you at dinner?”

“I might be late,” Elain said. “The burlap for the garden just came in and I’d like to get some on as many of the topiaries and beds as I can before winter gets too close.”

Something tight eased in my chest. Good. Elain would be kept busy, at least, with that. She’d have something else to do beyond sorting through all these presents.

With a nod of farewell, I winnowed to the front lawn, stepped beyond the wards, and winnowed again to the heart of the city proper.

It had indeed turned out to be one of those days when I couldn’t seem to find a moment to breathe. As I crawled into bed beside Rhys, my mate propping our son in a sitting position with some pillows, Nyx’s little wings flapped—or rather, one did, as his body and mind were still figuring out how to get both to move together at once—when he saw me. He broke into a gummy smile that I couldn’t help mirroring. “Hi, my love,” I said, tickling his warm belly. “What are you doing in here this late?”

Rhys, a stack of paperwork balanced on his lap, said without looking up, “He didn’t want to go to sleep.”

I hummed and stroked a hand over Nyx’s softer-than-soft hair. “He didn’t want to, or you didn’t want to be the bad guy?”

Rhys flipped a piece of paper over to read the back. “The rest of the world thinks I’m a monster. I don’t need my son thinking it, too.”

I clicked my tongue. “You couldn’t resist that face, could you?”