The Hall still trembled from the explosive slamming of the door. Still echoed with the sibilant whisper of Black shields locking into place around the massive structure. Usually, there was no sound made when a shield was formed or triggered. He’d added that sibilance as a bit of flash and glitter, as a way to remind anyone who challenged him that he wasn’t quite like them. Oh, he was Blood, yes, but not quite like them. Not since he’d made the Offering to the Darkness and walked away wearing Jewels no man had ever worn in the history of the Blood. Or maybe he’d never been quite like the rest of them, and that’s why he wore the Black.

His hand wasn’t steady as he held up the small, ornately carved box. He couldn’t stop the tremors going through his body, a reaction to the shock. But his feelings were numbed by exquisitely brutal pain. He felt nothing except awareness that the pain had shoved him to the edge of a precipice. He knew the landscape beyond it. No trained Black Widow feared the misted, twisting roads so close to that edge. They learned how to stray over that border, walk those roads—and come back. But he held on to the precipice and, by doing so, held on to the self-control that leashed everything he was.

“Did they tell you what was in the box before they sent you here, Ambassador?” Saetan asked. His voice, soft thunder, rolled through his study and over the man trying hard not to show fear.

“No,” the Ambassador said, licking dry lips. “I was told to bring it to you immediately. That was all.”

“Do you know what is in this box?”

The Ambassador shook his head. “I thought, judging from the size, it was a trinket of some kind, something your wife had worn to confirm she was a guest of the Zuulaman Queens. A ring, perhaps, or a pendant. Maybe a—”

“Finger,” Saetan said too softly. “A baby’s finger.”

The Ambassador stared at him, looking sick. “No.”

“Yes.” Saetan smiled—and watched the Ambassador shudder. “So I’m going to tell you the new agreement between Dhemlan and Zuulaman. My wife and child will be returned to me at once. If there is no further harm done to either of them, I will forget Zuulaman exists.”

As the words sank in, the Ambassador shook off his fear. “What kind of agreement is that?”

“A generous one,” Saetan replied. “However, if anything more is done to either of them, it will be considered a declaration of war.”

The Ambassador gaped for a moment. “You think Dhemlan will go to war—”

“Dhemlan will not go to war with Zuulaman.” He paused. “I will.”

“But—”

“You don’t understand what I am. No one would do this who understood what I am.”