Which is why he’d caught the Ebon-gray Wind and ridden to the Hall, arriving at the first breath of dawn. Something was pushing Saetan to the breaking point, and he didn’t want to find out what might happen when a Black-Jeweled Warlord Prince’s control shattered.

Flinging open the study door, he walked into the room.

Saetan stood behind the blackwood desk, tears running down his face as he stared at an open box that sat in the center of the desk.

“They kept his head,” Saetan whispered.

Andulvar moved forward. “What are you—”

He was a warrior, bred and trained. An Eyrien Warlord Prince who had never hesitated to step onto a killing field. But he took one look at what was inside that box and stumbled back two steps. “Mother Night.”

Saetan’s hand shook as he reached into the box and gently brushed a finger over a little leg. “What kind of people are they? What kind of people would do this to a baby?”

“Saetan ...” Andulvar swallowed hard to keep his stomach down, then approached the desk.

“I didn’t think they were capable of this. Even after they sent one of his fingers, I didn’t think they were capable of this.”

They what?

“I’m sorry,” Saetan whispered, brushing a finger over another piece. “I didn’t know they had no honor. I’m sorry. So sorry.”

When Saetan looked up, Andulvar saw a strong man about to break—and wondered if Saetan was even aware of the rage growing beneath that grief.

“Andulvar . . .” Saetan’s voice hitched. “Look what they did to my baby. Look—”

Andulvar grabbed him, pulled him into arms that held on with the strength of a friend’s love as Saetan shattered on the jagged stones of grief. “Hold on to me, Brother. Hold on.”

As Saetan clung to him, sobbing harshly, Andulvar forced himself to look at the jumbled pieces that had been a baby.

You fools. The Darkness only knows what will come of what you’ve done.

The sobbing finally stopped. Saetan stepped back, called in a handkerchief, wiped his face, and delicately blew his nose. His gold eyes were dulled by pain and grief.

Andulvar took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Why don’t you go up to your room to rest? I’ll take care of—”

“No.” Saetan shook his head, vanished the handkerchief. “He’s my son. I’ll take care of him.” After closing the lid on the box, he picked it up. “Would you send a message to the Zuulaman Ambassador and tell him to meet me here in three hours?”

“What are you going to do?”

Saetan swallowed hard. “Sign the damn agreements and get my wife back.”