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Savvine laughed, then gestured to Miral. ‘Please. She’s the one stealing the air from the room.’

Miral shimmered from head to toe.

Her gown was floor-length and backless, woven from iridescent meta-fabric that wept light and color down her frame in soft, liquid gradients.

The tail pooled behind her like sequinned starlight spilled on black crystal.

She shrugged, lips curled. ‘Sante, I can’t help being fabulous.’

Santiago pulled a tray of chilled shot glasses from a hovering server drone. ‘We toasting or what?’

Everyone grabbed one, except Miral, who grabbed hold of two.

Santi groaned. ‘She’s going to go off tonight.’

‘Too late,’ Kaal said, as Miral downed her double shots and lifted two more from an attendant.

They all laughed as Miral raised her chalice. ‘To sin, survival, and sequins.’

Their tumblers met in the center with the crisp chime of crystal.

‘To health,’ Kaal intoned.

‘To friends,’ Santi added.

‘To power reclaimed,’ said Miral, eyes gleaming.

Savvine lifted hers last, catching Xander’s eyes with a soft smile. ‘To joy, love, and kin. The rarest fuel of all.’

They drank, as one family, luminous in their shared contentment.

Later, Abby stood beside Savvine and Laleh with a flute of champagne in hand,

She tried hard not to ogle, struggling to keep her expression schooled into one approximating nonchalance.

She failed with a spectacular, dramatic sigh. ‘Fokk, they’re hot.’

Her eyes tracked the Signet strong guard as they stalked through the crowd, a pack of giant wolves, impossibly dangerous, criminally attractive, and fully aware of it.

‘Is it just me,’ Abby murmured, ‘or do they all prowl like they’ve pulled off at least three sniper hits this morning?’

Laleh snorted into her drink. ‘You mean how Zev moves like a sin with a pulse, with that swagger? You’ve been undressing him since the moment you clapped eyes on him.’

Savvine smirked. ‘That’s just them in dress wear. Wait until they’re on a battlefield.’

‘Or horizontal on a bed,’ Abby muttered, then cleared her throat. ‘I, uh. Wow. That came out.’

‘Sure did,’ Laleh choked.

Abby opened her mouth to retort, but her attention was snatched as Zev cruised past in full Signet formal uniform.

His jet-black tunic was tailored within an inch of scandal, charcoal collar undone just enough to hint at ink, his dark honey skin and sinewed muscle.

He carried the enigma of mystery, midnight, and wicked intent.

When his eyes locked on Abby, they gleamed.

‘Abby Bianchi,’ he rasped in a velvet-laced drawl. ‘Are you just going to stand there looking like a fever dream, or will you dance with me before I combust?’