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believe in compulsion to take positions of power.”
    “There are Irina who believe in compulsion?” Ava asked.
    “Yes,” Sari answered. “We are not of one mind. Nor do we have to be. But we’ve changed in the years since the Rending. There are too many who lost everything to the Grigori and the Fallen. They won’t be compliant again.”
    They spoke of specifics for some time. Which council members were sympathetic. Which were hostile. Sari was passionate. Damien was fed up and clearly wanted to kill someone or something as soon as possible.
    It was a full hour later before she and Sari could speak privately.
    “You’re not using your magic,” Sari said.
    “Sari, I—”
    “I don’t want to hear excuses. I want to know why.”
    Ava pursed her lips. “You’re not my mother or my boss.”
    “I care about you, Ava. And your mate is one of Damien’s closest friends. Your power is substantial, and whatever we may be facing, we need you to be able to control it.”
    She said nothing. How could she explain the threat she felt inside? It came from within. There was a darkness that lived in her. Ava had never sensed the same in Sari or Orsala or any of the Irina she’d met at the haven.
    “I’m different, Sari.”
    “Do you think I don’t know that?”
    “Did Orsala—”
    “My grandmother knows your power is not like the others. That doesn’t make it dangerous unless you don’t learn control. Are you shielding at least?”
    “Yes.”
    “How about offensive spells? Have you practiced those? Malachi and Rhys can help you.”
    She clammed up.
    Sari huffed out a breath. “You have to use your magic.”
    “I’m using it.”
    “Not the way you need to be.”
    She picked at the edge of the blanket in their bedroom. She could hear Malachi waiting in the hall, trying to give her privacy. She wished he would just come in.
    “I have other stuff on my mind, Sari.”
    “What is more important than learning how to harness your power?”
    “I don’t know. Learning where it came from, maybe?”
    The other woman was quiet, and Ava heard Malachi pacing. Frustrated, she sent out a tentative brush of power. It was hard to describe. A little like blowing air in his direction, but with her mind. A second later, she felt an answering brush of awareness, and he cracked the door open with a grin.
    “You called me,” he whispered, smiling.
    She shrugged one shoulder and said, “I need to go, Sari. Malachi is here.”
    “How is he?”
    “He’s a pain in the ass sometimes. Right now he’s very smug.” Her mate kept smiling and lay down on the bed, putting his head in her lap. “But he’s mine.”
    “You sound content.”
    She brushed a hand through his hair. “I am.”
    Malachi let out a rumble of pleasure and turned his face to her belly, putting an arm around her waist.
    “I’m going to send Orsala to you.”
    Her fingers tightened in his hair. “What?”
    “Ouch,” he said. “Ava, really… ow.”
    “I just decided. This will be good! You were going to come here, but Vienna is unstable right now. I don’t know how you’d be received. Instead, Orsala can go to you. Mala is here and restless. I’ll send them both to you in Istanbul. Damien says Rhys is one scribe short for the house. Mala will more than make up for that.”
    “And she’ll torture me.”
    “You’re probably out of shape.”
    “Sari!”
    “Let go,” Malachi said with a grunt. “It’s not my fault she’s sending them.”
    “Tell Malachi I heard that,” Sari said. “What are you doing to him?”
    Ava was panicking. “Sari, I really don’t think—”
    “Damien is nodding. He agrees with me. I’ll talk to her tonight, and we’ll let you know when they will arrive.”
    Malachi untangled her frozen hand and sat up next to her.
    “But I need to go find my—”
    “Whatever it is, my grandmother can help. She needs something to do anyway, and that way she’ll be able to continue your lessons like she was going to after Oslo.