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I led Vale around one side of the table, pulling her chair out for her, but halfway into her seat, she froze.

“Why are there four place settings?”

My head snapped up. Spirits be damned, I was so distracted by Titus I hadn’t even noticed.

“I thought it would be wrong to keep this dinner just to us.” He sneered as he spoke—just barely—but I caught the accidental twist of his lips and the threat threaded through his words. “We must include your ally.”

As if on cue, a side entrance to the dining room opened, and Harlen strode into the room. His gait was strong, confident, but mystlight shone across his face, and a freshly-blooming bruise mottled his cheekbone.

“Harls!” Vale gasped, standing up with palms braced on the table.

I placed a hand to her back, glaring at Titus. “What did you do to him?”

“He needed a reminder of the contract he signed.” He shrugged, and worry squirmed through my gut. Had Harlen told Titus anything about Vale?

“Are you okay?” Vale asked, gaze still locked on her friend.

“I’m fine,” he assured her. His eyes begged her to sit, to obey what was being commanded.

It made me sick to consider, but this was the chancellor’s game. Even if Vale said she would not succumb to his plans for her, we had to tread carefully.

With a gentle squeeze of her hip, I tried to communicate that I agreed with Harlen. Reluctantly, Vale sat. I claimed the seat beside hers, Harlen across from us. Titus took his time settling into the head of the table and fanning his napkin across his lap.

The chancellor snapped his fingers, and staff members filled the plates before us. But I barely even looked at the food or the wine they poured. I kept my glare on Titus and imagined every creative way I could end his life right now.

“This is lovely,” he said with a content sigh as the servers cleared the room.

A clap of thunder echoed over Valyn. The storm’s prickling tension bled through the glass windows and stone walls, settling over the table and testing my sense of control.

“What is it you want, Titus?”

His brows rose at my lack of decorum. No title, no false niceties.

“I don’t recall you being the one with a brash temper, Mr. Kastroff. That was Mr. Vincienzo, was it not?”

I thought back to the Rapture when Tolek had sternly spoken to the former Mindshaper Chancellor, Aird, for how the man addressed Ophelia.

“I suppose I just needed the right motivation,” I said with a shrug.

Titus smirked, smug. “You know, when word first reached me that you were in my territory, I assumed it was in search of that emblem your Revered hunts.”

“A task you have yet to assist with,” I reminded him. The chancellors—all but Aird, who had died during the Battle of Damenal—had each agreed to assist with finding the shards of their Angel’s power.

“Have I not?” Titus crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair.

“Not in the least.” I bristled. He hadn’t written a damn word to Ophelia regarding the Starsearcher token. Only that he had people working on it, as requested, but after so many months of silence on various alliance efforts, we suspected it was a lie.

“Regardless”—he waved off my accusation as if the emblems were inconsequential—“after what Harlen witnessed in Lumin and what occurred last night, it seems there is something else at play here.” Titus turned his attention on Vale. “What is happening with your readings, darling?”

I followed his gaze to the Starsearcher beside me. Under the table her hand sought mine.

Vale bit her lip as if fighting some words from bursting. Her fingers fidgeted.

And then, an explanation bubbled right out of her like the clouds cracking open outside.

“My magic is malfunctioning. It’s been happening since Daminius, and the episodes have only gotten worse. I haven’t had a clear reading in months, and when I try, I faint.”

Titus’s jaw ticked. For the first time tonight, he wasn’t the one holding control. “You should have come home sooner.”