“They let you keep the sword.”

“Mmm.” She twisted around. It was bound by a sparking red wire. “Major mojo. Cost a prisoner his life. It seems to be holding, though. Unfortunately. How’s Adam?”

I’d thought he was right beside me, but now I realized he’d stayed across the room.

“Are you going to introduce us?” Mom said.

“Intro—?”

Adam and my mother had never met. Even as I realized that, there was a moment where I thought I must be wrong. They’d each been such a huge part of my life, but of opposite halves of it. Although I’d had some contact with my mother for years—and Adam had been there when she’d been “around” in ghostly form, with Jaime mediating—they’d never met face to face.

I glanced over at him, now pouring soda into cups for both of us. I shoved my trembling hands into my pockets.

“It’s okay, baby,” Mom said, tugging one hand out and squeezing it. “I know.”

That’s all she said—“I know.” But when I looked at him, I knew she knew what Adam meant to me. My cheeks heated.

“Something’s changed, hasn’t it?” she said.

I started to nod, then shrugged, feeling like I was eleven years old again, when I’d told her about a boy at school who wanted me to come to the dance and I thought he might like me, but I wasn’t sure.

“Maybe,” I said. “I think so.”

“It has,” she murmured. “I can see it in the way he looks at you.”

I went bright red at that. As we approached, Adam set down the cups and turned to greet us. He smiled, but it wasn’t his usual grin. Not nervous, either. Guarded maybe? It wasn’t what I expected and it threw me a little.

“Adam, this, uh, is my mom,” I said.

“Are you sure?” His grin peeked out now. “Because I don’t see a resemblance.”

Mom laughed and she embraced him, catching him off-guard. As I said, Mom isn’t the hugging type, so it startled me a bit, too.

As she pulled back, she whispered in his ear, probably thinking I couldn’t hear. “I should have sent her back to Miami. I’m sorry.”

“No, that’s all—” he began.

“It’s not all right,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

When she stepped back, that guarded look had disappeared, and I understood that Adam had been angry with her for taking me along in New Orleans. He didn’t want to be angry—and he sure as hell didn’t want me knowing he was angry—but he had been.

“Will you eat now?” he whispered as he came over with my drink.

I nodded, took a plate, and loaded it up. Fast food—not much else open at this hour—but it’s not like I don’t eat the stuff by choice anyway.

We ate without saying much. Not much we could say, surrounded by guards. It was just past three in the morning. Sean would be here soon, Lucas and Paige shortly after. Would Thomas insist on waiting for a more reasonable hour, letting us all stew? No one knew. Or if they did, no one told us.

An hour later, there was a commotion in the hall. I hoped it was Sean, but the door stayed closed. Mom had wandered from the table. She’d seemed distracted, and I thought she was just restless, but when I glanced up she was standing in the corner, her back to me.

I walked over to her.

“—so it’s a mess,” she was saying. To no one.

“Mom?”

She turned. A faint flush rose on her cheeks and she led me back to the table.

“Who were you talking to?” I asked.

“Oh. Um, no one. Probably. Just …” A shrug, then she put an arm around my shoulders and gave me a squeeze. “I’m tired, baby. Haven’t been tired in ten years. I think it’s affecting my brain. So what’s going on?”

“No idea,” Adam said as she sat.

I looked back at the corner. My father. She sensed him here. Was he?

Another commotion in the hall. The door flew open. In walked two massive bodyguards followed by two guys in suits that screamed “lawyer.” With the pomp normally reserved for rulers of despotic nations, they ushered in Thomas Nast.

I’d seen my grandfather before. Met him several times … if you can call it a “meeting” when you’re in the same room and he’s studiously pretending you don’t exist. But my first thought on seeing him today was My God, he’s gotten old. Thomas has always been old—to me, anyway. I remember the first time I saw him, tall, white haired, slightly stooped, and thinking “This is the guy? The one everyone’s so scared of? He doesn’t seem so bad.” He’d looked … grandfatherly.

Yes, I hate to admit it, but the first time I saw Thomas Nast, I’d felt a buzz of hope, because he looked like someone I could imagine as a grandfather. Proud and stern, but softhearted. Um, no. The only person who softened Thomas Nast’s heart was Sean.

As Thomas walked in, though, it was my other brother I thought about. I’d seen the way Thomas acted when Bryce was around—the same way he acted with everyone except Sean. Short-tempered. Overbearing. Irritated, as if they were all incompetents hell-bent on making his life difficult. The same way he treated the man who had followed him into the room. His younger son. Josef.

I’d never met Thomas while my father was alive, but I bet he’d treated Kristof the way he did Sean. The favored child. The heir. The only one who mattered.

I’d seen what such favoritism had done to Bryce. The choices he’d made. How miserable and angry he was. In thirty years, would he become another Josef Nast? Willing to kill me, not because I was any threat to him, but because it might have pleased Thomas. He might finally have pleased his father.

Neither Thomas nor Josef looked my way. I didn’t expect them to. Their people fanned out around them, getting their chairs just right, pouring them coffee and ice water, bending over to whisper and point out items on papers and digital displays. Shielding them from any need to acknowledge our presence.

The moment Thomas had settled, Mom stood. She stayed standing for at least three minutes. Daring him to look at her. When he didn’t, she started forward, chin up, sword glowing stronger, as if it fed off her resolve. Or her rage.

Thomas still didn’t look up. Others did. Until now, they’d struggled to pretend there was nothing unusual about having the long-dead alleged mistress of their former heir in their midst, a woman now whispered to be an angel. They turned. They stared. A few stepped closer, protecting their leader. More stepped back.