Once again, my plate sits untouched, though I’m already on my third glass of wine. The buzz is a welcome escape from this wretched dinner. Conversation fills the room as I take another sip of the bitter red. Liam’s brow furrows, but to his credit, he doesn’t pry the glass from my hand.

A small mercy, since the wine is the only thing making this night bearable.

I’m doing everything I can to avoid glancing at the empty seat where Sebastian should be. Instead, Mr. Stone sits there, his sole purpose to glare at me, it seems. But it’s not his presence that makes me guard my gaze. I can’t bring myself to look that way, because every time I do, I expect to see Sebastian.

Memories of past dinners wind around my neck, cinching tighter whenever someone mentions the plane crash. I take another sip of wine, the spiced oak and cherry notes carrying me adrift on a deceptively calm sea.

“The queen shouldn’t have been in Los Angeles to begin with,” says Pax Monroe’s father, a severe looking man with raven hair and an angular face of hard lines. “If Castle hadn’t stolen time from the House of Libra, my son would have trained her. She’d know her place is here in this tower, serving our boys, not off playing dressmaker.”

“You’re absolutely right.” Mr. Stone’s cold indigo eyes settle on me. “Had she been properly trained, the stupid girl would know her place.”

“And where is my place?” I ask, boldly returning his hostile gaze. “On my knees in the dungeon?”

“Novalee.” Liam covers my hand, his gesture a warning, but I shrug him off.

“He started this.” I point at Sebastian’s father. “So let him finish it.”

Mr. Stone huffs, thick with disdain. “Better on your knees than gallivanting around the globe. Actions have consequences, little girl. If not for your disgrace, my son would still be alive.”

His words slam into me like a physical blow, knocking the air from my lungs.

Elise gasps, her face flushed with fiery indignation. She’s sitting beside Landon, who places a hand on her arm, calming her as he turns the heat on himself.

“You’re out of line, Mr. Stone,” he says, jaw clenched in a struggle for composure.

“I don’t believe I am. She’s the reason Sebastian and Tatum were in the States, which makes her responsible. The fact is, you boys indulge her.” Mr. Stone glances around the table, slowly taking in each house.

Everyone is here tonight, except Ford, who is missing in action.

“I say it’s time she goes through proper training,” Mr. Stone continues. “Before she engages in more reckless behavior.”

“What do you propose?” Mr. Monroe asks.

“Well, your son could give her a good flogging. That would be an appropriate starting point.”

“Like hell,” Liam growls. “No one’s laying a finger on her.”