-Nerissa's POV-

Vance's hand pressed against my back. A question. A warning.

"Does his presence here compromise our position?"

I kept my eyes fixed on the Harringtons, my face a mask of perfect composure. But my knuckles, wrapped around the champagne flute, were bloodless white.

The answer, whatever it was, would be whatever best served the alliance.

"No," I said, my voice steady. "It changes nothing."

"Good."

I felt his palm press slightly harder against my spine—grounding me. Or maybe grounding himself. In this current chaos we had to face, we were all we had.

Across the room, Jovi began to move through the crowd. Zane was stiff beside her,...