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Every man in the row stood and offered their spot with a warm smile. Each eager to be the one to assist her.

When her gaze locked with Trevor’s, her smile grew tight.

“It appears you’re a femme fatale, after all.”

Her gaze dropped as if she were wary and undesiring of his attention. Perhaps she was. Her suffering at his hands was significant.Only the fence separated them, and his need to haul her across the bar and into his lap was strong.If the situation had been any different and his programmed threat to her any less, he would’ve, to reassure them bothnothing had changed and whatever they had between them was still viable.

“Thanks for the spell, Damian,” she said in a low voice, casting a fleeting glance toward the high table. “I’ve created one of my own.” Opening her hand, she displayed three small vials of what looked to be dirt. “Will you toss them at Asshat Agnes, Devil Deni, or Melvin the Malevolent if they eventhinkthe word ‘nothing’?”

“It would be my utmost delight,” he replied. His gaze sharpened as he studied the containers in his hand. “This is dirt from my estate.”

“Is that a problem?”

“It may be slightly more powerful than you expected.”

Her worried gaze dropped to the objects Damian cradled. “Should I modify them?”

“Not at all. But if you’re certain you can live with the consequences of your actions, I’m happy to assist.”

“Why does that sound dire?” Trev asked with a downward twist of his lips. “And why do I want you to save us all the time and chuck them across the room now?”

“Because you’re as bloodthirsty as your mate,” Damian replied dryly. “Soleil, my dear, please take a seat. The trial is about to resume.”

Trevor once again locked gazes with her. “Thank you for coming. There’s so much I want to say, Dalli. And I hope you’re willing to listen.After.”

“I’m willing.”

Beneath her sweet smile lurked uncertainty. The urge to sweep her up and teleport away was chipping away athisrestraint, but resolving the issues at hand was paramount. After another twenty minutes, it became apparent why his instinct to grab her and run had become an insidious need to act immediately.

“Sentencing will now commence,” Councilwoman Maria Aguilar intoned.

As one, the Council rose and joined hands.

“Wait.” Damian’s commanding voice jolted them from the trance they’d entered. “It’s imperative you consider one final fact.”

“What’s that, Aether?” Councilman Doyle asked with arched brows.

“Trevor Blane’s power is no more. I suggest you consider the possibility that you’re sentencing a mortal to a magical being’s punishment should you find him guilty.”

“What’s this?” Agnes bound to her feet.

Damian unfurled the fingers holding the vials. “I removed his magic the first time your daughter used compulsion against him.”

“Give it back!” Melvin demanded, casting a panicked look around. “He’s essential for… er, uh… well, his power is essential for a Death Dealer, should the Council decide to reconstitute him.”

“Reconstitute him?” Damian climbed to his feet and rested his knuckles on the table, leaning forward. “What an interesting term, Mr. Glen.Why should you be concerned with their wish to reconstitute his power, I wonder?How does it benefit you?’

The Aether’s voice deepened, becoming as smooth and seductive as a siren’s. Nearly the entire collective of individuals present stared at him, eyes glazed. The exceptions were the Sentinels, Soleil, and him. Trev sought Fintan across the distance.

“What the fuck is he doing, Fin?”

Fintan didn’t reply, remaining hyper-vigilant and focused on the Aether.

“They’re sharing a power, cher,”Draven responded in the Seer’s stead.

Soleil shifted, turning her head to watch Fintan.“How is that possible? I thought Fintan was a Seer. Is he a Siren, too?”

Trevor glanced at her over his shoulder.“If he is, I didn’t know about it. We’ll ask Damian when this is over.”